Dear everyone,

Thank you for taking the time to come onto my JustGiving page. 

My name is Leeanne Davies-Grassnick, I am 42 years old, I live in London with my amazing wife Emma, and I am mum to our beautiful little 4-year-old son. 

Four years ago, I received some devasting personal news, and now with the help of my dear family and friends I have set up this page to help me raise funds to pay for the right medical treatment and general life support I so desperately need to continue living with Stage 4 metastic bowel cancer.

Now, I would like to share my story with you. 

It all starts with when I met Emma. It was falling in love with her that opened my belief in soul mates, miracles and happy endings. She is my person. And that is why I still believe in the good. And little did I know it would become so ironic and beneficial that she is a doctor and at the time was training to become a bowel surgeon.

However, it was in May 2022 when our world fell apart.  

I was only 38, fit, healthy, we had just married and I had recently given birth to our amazing son. I was the happiest I have ever been, life was light and becoming a mother was a dream come true. 

I will honestly admit that we were oblivious to the world of cancer, it was something that happened to other people and especially not to young people, and then it happened to us…

After severe unexplained pain and days of medical investigations, I will never forget sitting in the consultation room when the doctor explained I had metastatic bowel cancer. 

All I could think about was my precious family and my baby boy. I can still feel the ice like stabbing feeling in my heart, the floor being pulled from under my feet, the panic and shock spreading through my entire body, and my voice trembling as I repeated the words “My baby. My poor baby.” I had a panic attack, I couldn’t breathe and all I thought of was our little four-month-old baby boy. 

I’ve never really understood when someone says they’ve had an outer body experience, but now I totally get it. It was like I was floating above, watching myself, I was paralyse. It was there and then in that waiting room that I was allowed to breast feed my son for the very last time, it was traumatic for everyone. 

I was told my cancer is incurable. 

I have more than 22 tumours in my liver, one major tumour measuring at 15cm at diagnosis. Based on statistics the median overall survival was a year at diagnosis. A shocking prognosis and one I intend to continue to prove wrong with all my might. 

Since my diagnosis in May 2022, I have received my cancer care by an incredible team of doctors at the Royal Marsden Hospital in London. Regular rounds of intensive chemotherapy helped drop my tumour markers dramatically, and scans showed a complete metabolic response. But the tumours in my liver have never shrunk enough to allow curative surgery, my only real chance of being cancer-free. 

50 rounds of chemo and additional ongoing integrative oncology care, including high dose vitamin C infusions, mistletoe injections, targeted supplements, emotional therapy, dietary requirements, acupuncture and specialised blood tests, allowed me to remarkably stay stable for almost three years. 

Unfortunately scans revealed some progression in February 2025 and we switched to second line treatment. After only six months, on the usually more promising targeted therapy (Encorafenib and Cetuximab), we discovered the cancer had significantly progressed in my liver and to other lymph areas. 

Since September 2025 we are re-challenging with chemotherapy (back on FOLFOXIRI) and I have recently undergone Cyberknife radiotherapy to target one liver tumour that wasn’t controlled. 

At present, I am considered “stable.” Stable is good, but it is not a cure. And while it means some time but it does not mean much time. 

However, we have just received some big news. 

Following a biopsy of one of my liver tumours, I may be a candidate for immunotherapy in addition to chemotherapy. This means hope! Not for a cure, but for more time!

Unfortunately, this treatment is not  the “standard of care” in the UK, which means it may need to be self-funded.  

The UK has great care, however it is also sometimes more restricting than other countries in the world. Clinical trials and advanced therapies (like Histotripsy) here are increasingly restricted. 

If we want to get more options, more time to be a mama to our son, then we need to explore second opinions and innovative treatments in countries such as Germany and the United States. 

Self-funded Treatment Options & Managing Life with Cancer

Pursuing international consultations, specialised genomic testing, travel, accommodation, and accessing treatments and continuing with my integrative care comes with enormous financial pressure.

On top of this, Emma and I are now facing the very real challenge of planning for full-time carers to live with us. When I am unwell, I need additional support, both for my own care and to help look after our son.

To make this possible, we need to restructure our home so that live-in carers can potentially stay with us as part of our family. It’s a big adjustment, but it’s one that would allow us to keep our little family together, safely and sustainably.

From the very beginning of my diagnosis, our families have been incredibly supportive. Sadly, my own family lives abroad. Visiting them — or having them come to us so we can spend precious time together — involves significant travel costs, which simply aren’t manageable alongside the ongoing medical expenses and our reduced household income.

Emma and I have always faced this together. Every decision we make is as a team, because whatever happens affects all three of us.

Our son is now four years old. He deserves a mum who gets to watch him grow up, to see him start school, learn to ride a bike, fall in love, and build his own beautiful life.

I don’t want to give up. Science is evolving every single day. I am responding to treatment. I am strong. I am doing everything in my power, medically, physically, and holistically, to stay here for as long as I possibly can. But I can’t do it alone.

Asking for financial support is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I truly wish, from the bottom of my heart, that I didn’t have to write this. I wish our circumstances were different.

If you are able to donate, share this page, or help us connect with international specialists or trials, it would mean more than I can ever express. Every contribution brings us closer to accessing the next best treatment. You would be helping us buy time - time as a family, time as parents, time together.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, for sharing, and for standing beside us in this fight.

With hope and gratitude,

Leeanne