Latest news with #terminalillness
The Independent
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Woman given terminal diagnosis says she plans to fulfil her life dream
A 27-year-old woman with a terminal illness is planning an ambitious solo round-the-world sailing voyage. Jazz Turner, from Seaford, East Sussex, aims to take part in next year's Royal Western Yacht Club of England 's WorldStar challenge. Should she succeed, Ms Turner would become the first female, disabled sailor to complete the feat. Diagnosed at 18, she lives with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, a debilitating genetic condition that affects connective tissue, and causes fainting and seizures. Due to complications, doctors have told her that her condition is now terminal. 'As my condition has progressed, the one thing I made sure of was that I never stopped sailing,' she said. Next year's challenge follows her recent circumnavigation of the UK and Ireland, known as Project Fear, but she now needs to secure the right boat and sponsorship to carry her around the globe. 'I've always been drawn to challenges that push me to my edge,' she said. 'Project Fear was born off the back of the announcement of the WorldStar 2026. I face many a 'no' in my life, and I do my best to turn them into 'yes'. The right partnership could turn this vision into reality. 'Whether it's a boat owner willing to lend their yacht or sponsors eager to back a remarkable human and sporting story, I'm inviting them to join me on this journey.' The WorldStar 2026 leaves Plymouth in September next year and tests sailors to circle the globe without outside assistance or stops. Adrian Gray, commodore of the Royal Western Yacht Club, said: 'Jazz is the epitome of why we created this Corinthian-style race. 'This is a race for sailors, run by sailors and the only one of its style in the UK. 'When we initially reached out to Jazz and she told us her 'Project Fear' campaign, a solo, non-stop, unassisted circumnavigation of the UK and Ireland, was started following our announcement of the WorldStar, we knew we wanted to help Jazz fulfil her life's dream.'
The Sun
04-08-2025
- Health
- The Sun
Terminally ill James Whale, 74, ‘feels happy to go now' after moving to a hospice
TERMINALLY ill James Whale has heartbreakingly admitted he feels "happy to go now" after moving into a hospice. The broadcaster, 74, previously confessed he "probably won't be here next week" after re-locating to the end of life facility. 6 6 6 James has terminal kidney cancer and recently celebrated his "last birthday" surrounded by loved ones after stopping his treatment. Back in May, the TALK radio host revealed his long-running programme could be coming to an end as he reached the final stage of his battle. James was first diagnosed with kidney cancer back in 2020 yet the disease then spread to his brain, lungs and spine. He has now admitted he "feels at peace" in his new facility after being told he has weeks to live. The charity fundraiser wrote in a new newspaper column: "What's surprised me most is how much better in myself I feel since finally moving into a hospice near my home in Kent a week or so back." He added in his peace for the Daily Express: "I began to feel better immediately. More positive. "I feel at peace here, even though I'm not a religious person. "I know I've reached the end of my life but I'm quite sanguine about it. "Despite everything, I'm happy to go now and a lot of that is due to the people who work here, because they make dying as peaceful and pain-free as possible." TalkTV's James Whale shares emotional cancer battle update as he says 'I haven't got much longer' in heartbreaking video One of the country's most revered radio personalities, James has been in the business for 50 years and, in 2023, received the first ever TRIC Recognition Award for his outstanding work. He's helped countless others too, having launched the James Whale Fund for Kidney Cancer in 2006 - now known as Kidney Cancer UK - the nation's leading specialist charity of its kind, after beating the illness two decades ago. He then urged fans to support the hospice as he outlined the range of activities they plan for guests. SAD UPDATES Back in 2023, James told how he planned to have two funerals - so he could attend one of them. Yet last month he gave a worrying update as he admitted he was struggling to talk and breathe. Speaking on his podcast Tales of the Whales alongside his co-host wife Nadine in July, they spoke about his conditions. He also admitted his speech has become very slow and he is forgetful, while suffering with painful pressure sores. On the emotional recording, he said: "I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't talk. "Anyway. Good morning. Welcome to Tales of the Whales, our weekly podcast. I have terminal 5 cancer. Can you get 5?" Nadine explained: 'You're getting quite tired, so from next week, we're restricting visitors to just very close friends and family.' He added: 'The most tiring thing I found… I still can't hear very well, which is more frustrating than anything else. "I've become very slow in my speech and then forgetful and everything else." Talking about his pressure sores he said: 'I'm tootling along, which is all you can do really, trying to get my breathing sorted and the mark on my bum.' He humbly asked: "People have to go through a lot worse, don't they? Do they?" The poignant conversation concluded: "Anyway. I don't feel I can go on much more... "The other thing is, my energy levels have gone completely. "So I wish everybody well, and let us hope we go through these phases as quickly as we can." 6 6 6
The Guardian
30-07-2025
- Health
- The Guardian
I spent my childhood in and out of hospital. At 19, I finally realised I had a terminal disease
Yvonne Hughes was 19, and attending the funeral of a friend with cystic fibrosis, when she realised: 'Oh shit, I'm going to die of this.' She had met him during shared hospital stays in childhood, and although Hughes had always known she had CF, she had never understood her illness as terminal until that day in 1992, when she stood at the back of the crowded chapel in Glasgow. For three days afterwards, she couldn't stop crying. 'I had a kind of meltdown. That's probably the first time I thought that this thing I had was going to kill me.' Over the next few months, Hughes, who was studying at the University of Glasgow, listened to her mum, dad and older sister chatting during family meals as if she was a ghost at the table. 'I pulled back from them. I deliberately didn't talk or include myself,' she says. 'I wanted them to get used to sitting and chatting without me, so that when I died, they wouldn't notice I wasn't there.' It's a harrowing responsibility for a teenager to take, but self-erasure must have felt like a way to pre-empt death, perhaps to resist it. When she was growing up, cystic fibrosis was considered 'a childhood disease' – because about half of those diagnosed did not survive their teens. A genetic condition in which the body creates thick, sticky mucus, it makes digestion difficult, damages lung function and can lead to respiratory failure. It affects about 160,000 people globally. Now 52, and enjoying what she calls a 'second chance' at life more than 30 years later, Hughes has emerged as a comedian. We are speaking on a video call before her one-hour show, Absolutely Riddled, which she is performing at the Edinburgh fringe, based on her experiences of living with the condition. 'I want to be true to myself and my story,' she says. Why does she think she survived when so many didn't? For most of her childhood, Hughes, who works as a community development worker in Renfrewshire, didn't regard herself as struggling for survival. Her parents didn't sit her down in childhood to explain her illness; she had been diagnosed at six weeks old. But there were hospital visits and tablets and eating often made her vomit. Gradually, she says, she 'put together those two words, cystic and fibrosis, with something that I had'. At school, she kept her illness hidden, taking her medication at home. She was popular; joined the Brownies, then Guides. 'I'm a very level-headed person, but I keep a lot in my mind. I remember when I was younger thinking: 'There's no point telling people about this because everyone is dealing with something. I'm nothing special.' I just got on with it.' Roughly one in every 2,500 people are born with cystic fibrosis in the UK, Australia and the US. Hughes's older sister does not have the illness and the family had no idea what it meant for their lives, or for Hughes herself. Only as she grew older did Hughes build a sense of the precariousness of her life. 'My mum said to me: 'We thought you were going to die, every day. We just didn't know.' It became their new normal to keep me alive.' If she got a chest infection, pleurisy or pneumonia, she would go into hospital, and over the years made friends on the CF ward, a fragile community. When the curtains were closed around a bed for a long time, Hughes and the other children knew not to go past. She reasoned with herself, to allay her fears: 'People were dying around me but I put it down to: 'Maybe they had a really bad infection, maybe they were worse than me.'' In childhood, she developed 'a lot of level-headed thought processes around why those people died'. She found solace in the Cystic Fibrosis Trust magazine, and dreamed of attending one of the advertised camps. 'Luckily, I didn't,' she says, because in the early 1990s, scientists discovered that the camps were a hotbed for the spread of bacteria, present in the lungs and phlegm of children with CF. Many cross-infected each other, some with fatal consequences. Did Hughes struggle to accept that sense of herself, as both vulnerable and a threat? 'Absolutely,' she says. Hospitals implemented a policy of segregation, according to bacteria carried. Hughes has the pseudomonas bacteria, and after her friend's funeral in 1992, she stopped seeing people with cystic fibrosis in case they had different bacteria or bugs that might lead to cross-infection. She has stayed in touch by phone with one old friend. 'We shared growing up in the hospital ward and I do love speaking to him.' But after that funeral, 'I became reckless,' she says. 'I thought: 'Well, life's for living. I'm just going to do what I want.' I didn't care very much for myself. I thought: 'What's the point?' I spiralled.' Her 20s and 30s passed in a blur of 'festivals, partying, travelling when I could, flying by the seat of my pants … ' She had hoped to meet someone, and to have children. 'I thought it would happen. And it never did.' In her 30s, her lung function got so low – 45%, then 36% – that she wouldn't have been able to sustain a pregnancy anyway. 'That was something I tried to grieve. But over the course of a year, I thought: 'I'd rather be alive.' My mantra became: 'I'd rather have a full and short life than a long and unhappy one.' These kinds of philosophical things got me through.' Hughes doesn't have a mantra now – 'other than trying to be funny'. The frequency of her performances range from three times a week to every few weeks, depending on her health needs. But even in her reckless phase, she embodied a stoicism, too. She worked throughout – at a call centre, a radio station, the CF Trust. 'I just had to keep going, pay my bills and mortgage.' Did she ever wonder: 'Why me?' She has had years of spitting out and swallowing mucus – 'constant, constant' – hankies everywhere, non-stop sterilising of stuff, endless medication and pain, unable to take the next breath for granted. As a child, when she went into hospital, there was a faint sense of privilege at being given Lucozade and new slippers, things her sister didn't get. But no one else in her family has the illness. Didn't she feel aggrieved? 'It's a difficult question,' she says. 'I've thought about 'Why me?' in a positive sense – that it was me because I could handle it. Or, I'm glad … because this has made me the way I am.' She has also thought, 'Why at all? Why did cystic fibrosis come into being? Why have this weird disease that just kind of ruins lives?' While Hughes survived childhood by reminding herself that she wasn't special, the differences between her life and others' sharpened as she entered her 40s. She became an aunt, and bore close witness to her peers' life transitions while she kept on being 'just Yvonne – the one that never reached any potential'. 'I couldn't have a career because I would always get ill. I never moved social class. I always remained working class.' Her dad was a welder, her mother a GP receptionist. 'Everything I did, I did myself. But it was day by day, week by week. There was never a plan. I always felt I could never get ahead of myself.' In 2018, aged 45, with deteriorating health, Hughes took redundancy from her job as public affairs officer at the CF Trust. Eating was difficult. Her weight hovered around 7 stone. She braced herself for the possibility of a lung transplant, but as her lung capacity dropped to 30%, she was deemed too ill for the waiting list. 'I was like: 'OK, that door's closed. At this point, there isn't anything else on the horizon to keep me alive.'' She completed an end-of-life form, and met the palliative care team. She thought: 'I'll see my days out with my parents, make memories and know I did well to get to 48.' Then, in 2020, the UK government granted access to a new drug, Kaftrio. Hughes had read about its worldwide trials. When the delivery driver knocked on the door, she told him: 'You're going to save my life.' At that point, her lung function was down to 26%. Within an hour or two of the first tablet, she started coughing. 'They call it the purge,' she says. There was so much mucus – dark, watery and horribly fascinating – she captured it in a cup, put a lid on it, and stowed it in a drawer in her bedroom. 'I kept that cup for a long time,' she says. Maybe she already knew it was a relic. The Kaftrio turned Hughes's life 'a whole 180, literally overnight'. There are side-effects – insomnia, weight gain, which have brought other challenges – but before long, she says, 'I could breathe again without coughing. I went back to work within the year. I could run, I could dance, I could speak, I could stand up straight and cook. I used to always be bent over, catching my breath. And then all of a sudden that was gone. It was a miracle.' Energised, she decided to enrol in an evening course. Acrylic painting, maybe, or playing the keyboard? But at the University of Strathclyde's Centre for Lifelong Learning, it was the flyer for comedy that caught her eye. 'I had always loved going to gigs. Something clicked and I enrolled.' She performed a five-minute set for the course finale – and immediately wanted to do it again. 'I started applying for clubs, Monkey Barrel and the Stand Comedy Club [both in Edinburgh]. I got Red Raw [the Stand's beginners' slot] and went from there. I want to change my life,' she says, 'and I am doing comedy to see if I can change my life.' Nearly four years ago, Hughes met her partner, Alan, online. Having spent a lifetime feeling unable 'to rely on a future', she has had to learn to picture one – and to override her old instinct to absent herself to mitigate later losses. Sometimes, this means catching herself in the act of 'pulling back' from Alan, and letting the pleasure she takes in his company teach her to quiet her mind. Life now is so different, it requires a conscious effort to remember how hard it was from one moment to the next. 'I used to breathe so shallowly that I had to take a – haa! – sharp intake of breath – to feel I was breathing,' she says. The sound punctuated even the simplest actions – after getting into a car, for instance, after reaching for her seatbelt, after pulling it across her, after fastening it. 'Now I can get in the car, pull the seatbelt over and go. I can walk and talk. I can laugh without wetting myself or going into a convulsion of coughing, pulling a muscle or breaking a rib,' she says. 'It is a horrible, horrible disease. It suffocates you. It takes every inch of your breath away. And now it is something I can live with and not die from. I'll probably live to get my pension.' Comedy has brought 'fun, joy and laughter' back into Hughes's life. But it has also given her something that nothing else has. 'I had never found anything for me in my life. I'd never married. I had no children. So I had no community. Nothing,' she says. 'There were people getting their careers and their lives sorted. Comedy was the one thing that was for me. And it still is. Just for me.' Yvonne Hughes: Absolutely Riddled is at Snug at Gilded Balloon Patter House, Edinburgh, until 15 August
LBCI
24-07-2025
- Politics
- LBCI
Woman charged with plotting to kill Israel PM: Prosecutors
An Israeli woman has been charged with plotting to assassinate Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, prosecutors said on Thursday. According to the indictment, the woman, whose identity is still unknown, was "engaged in political protest activities" against the government and decided to kill Netanyahu after she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Her plan was discovered after she sought to acquire a rocket-propelled grenade to carry out the assassination, the prosecutor's office at the Tel Aviv district court wrote in the indictment. AFP
The Sun
24-07-2025
- Health
- The Sun
Dying James Whale shares emotional update in terminal cancer battle as he reveals he is struggling to breathe and talk
PRESENTER James Whale MBE has broken hearts with a tear-jerking glimpse into his terminal health battle. Star James, 74 - who has been courageously battling stage 4 kidney cancer since 2020 - was told he has twelve weeks to live. 4 4 He is now up to week seven - but says, 'I'm not me anymore'. Speaking on his podcast Tales of the Whales alongside his co-host wife Nadine, they spoke about his conditions. The much-loved TV personality said he is struggling to breathe, talk and think - and can't hear very well. He also admitted his speech has become very slow and he is forgetful, while suffering with painful pressure sores. On the emotional recording, he said: "I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't talk. "Anyway. Good morning. Welcome to Tales of the Whales, our weekly podcast. I have terminal 5 cancer. Can you get 5?" A confused James continued: "Could I thank everybody for getting in touch and wanting to meet up. "I'm not being rude when I make it difficult to get touched up. I mean... in touch." Nadine explained: 'You're getting quite tired, so from next week, we're restricting visitors to just very close friends and family.' He added: 'The most tiring thing I found… I still can't hear very well, which is more frustrating than anything else. James Whale reveals he's got weeks to live in emotional update on cancer battle, saying 'I spend a lot of time crying' "I've become very slow in my speech and then forgetful and everything else." Talking about his pressure sores he said: 'I'm tootling along, which is all you can do really, trying to get my breathing sorted and the mark on my bum.' He humbly asked: "People have to go through a lot worse, don't they? Do they?" The poignant conversation concluded: "Anyway. I don't feel I can go on much more... "The other thing is, my energy levels have gone completely. "So I wish everybody well, and let us hope we go through these phases as quickly as we can." The star recently celebrated his 'last birthday' surrounded by loved ones after stopping his cancer treatment. Back in May, the TALK show host revealed his long-running programme could be coming to an end as he reached the final stage of his battle. One of the country's most revered radio personalities, James has been in the business for no less than 50 years and, in 2023, received the first ever TRIC Recognition Award for his outstanding work. He's helped countless others too, having launched the James Whale Fund for Kidney Cancer in 2006 - now known as Kidney Cancer UK - the nation's leading specialist charity of its kind. James, who first defeated kidney cancer 20 years ago, had been receiving the aggressive treatment since a second cancer detection in 2020. Nadine, who he affectionately calls Lady W, has cared for him throughout his health battle and meticulously keeps on top of his hospital appointments and prescriptions. 4
