My childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with breast cancer at 30. She died at 35

Alex Newman met Nicky when they were 14, then married her years later. She died at 35 from breast cancer. He tells their story

What people don’t tell you about breast cancer: in honour of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, we will be talking to people who have been affected by the disease – from a survivor to a widower to a fundraiser. Meet the fifth in our series, Alex Newman, who tells us the story of his wife’s diagnosis when she was only 29 and their battle against it.
Nicky and I met when we were 14. I’ll never forget seeing her for the first time, hanging out in the park in Guildford. She was way too cool for me but, amazingly, we clicked. We dated on and off, in the way that kids ‘date’: watching Disney movies or Friends, often with Nicky’s parents, Glenda and Bob. Family is so important to both of us.
During a family meal when we were about 21, my Nan demanded: “Are you two going out, or what?” From that day on, it was official. We moved in together, and got married in 2014. When I asked Bob for permission, he said: “You’re already like a son to me.”
After a year of trying for kids, we turned to IVF. It was brutal. Nicky struggled with the daily injections. And despite successfully implanting an embryo, the pregnancy test was negative. We were both devastated.
During IVF, she developed back pain that eventually became unbearable. Physio didn’t help, so she went for further tests. She’d found breast lumps before, and had been told in the past that it was benign fibroadenomas, but then she ended up having a mammogram, biopsy and CT scan on the same day.
The doctor told us it was breast cancer, and it had already spread to her bones. Her spine, hips and ribs were riddled. She had five to 10 years to live.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” said Nicky, when the doctor gave us a few minutes alone. “This will be tough, and you don’t have to be here for it.”
I said: “Where do you think I’m going? I love you. I’ll be here.”
Telling our families was awful. There was a period where we were all just in shock, not knowing what to do, or how to handle it. Oral chemotherapy kept her stable for a couple of years. She also had targeted radiotherapy and hormone therapy, since the cancer was oestrogen-driven.
She gave up her job as a finance assistant, and we got by on my salary as a smart home programmer. That gave her time to focus on Instagram, where she was sharing her story. Her videos were funny, clever and incredibly moving, and her following grew to over 300,000. She used her platform to support charities such as Future Dreams, which provides support for anyone going through breast cancer, as well as funding research into treatments.
Her attitude was amazing. It would have been easy to go into a spiral, but that’s giving cancer more power. She strongly felt that she didn’t want cancer to steal any more of our time together. Nicky’s mantra was ‘go grab life’ and that’s what we tried to do.
Obviously, that can be easier said than done. The last 18 months were so hard. The first treatments stopped working so she was put onto IV chemo which comes with debilitating side effects. When a scan showed that the cancer had gone into her liver, we both knew she didn’t have long.
She went off one day and planned her own funeral; organised it and paid for the whole thing. She didn’t want me, or Glenda and Bob, to have to think about it.
The last couple of treatments were terrible; the injections were painful and difficult. At that point, quality of life is a case of just not being in constant pain. No one other than myself would know the level of pain she was in, daily. Sometimes I would carry her downstairs because the sofa was the only place she could get comfortable, and I’d sleep on the floor just to be with her.
Stopping treatment was an awful decision, one that we made together. She died on September 17 2023, five and a half years after her diagnosis. She was 35.
The funeral was so Nicky, down to the music, including a song from the Splash Mountain ride at Disney World. It was at the funeral that I met the founder of Future Dreams, and talked about how to honour Nicky’s memory. Last month, we presented the inaugural Lightning Bolt Award to Helen Addis who launched ChangeAndCheck with ITV’s Lorraine Kelly, a campaign that has helped many women spot their cancer at an early stage. 
People often say to me, “I didn’t know Nicky, but I followed her for years”. And I’ll tell them: “Then you did know her, because who you saw on Instagram is who she was.” She was so honest, vulnerable and sometimes whacky. That’s exactly who I fell in love with.
Nicky and I learnt the importance of being open and honest about all the difficult aspects of treatment: physical pain, emotional discomfort, fear, anxiety and even planning for the end of life. Talking openly diminishes some of the emotional burden, and means you can offer each other the strongest possible support.
As told to Rosamund Dean 
For more information about Future Dreams, visit futuredreams.org.uk