Johanna had a stem cell transplant in 2024, after being diagnosed with blood cancer. She shares her experience so far and how through the challenges, she found resilience.
There’s no preparation for the moment your life changes forever.
In May 2023, I heard the words no one ever wants to hear: You have acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. Everything after that became a blur—hospital rooms, endless tests, doctors discussing things I could barely comprehend. I was scared. Not just scared—terrified.
I began chemotherapy almost immediately, followed by immunotherapy. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. My hair was gone, my energy vanished. Some days, the nausea and exhaustion were unbearable. Other days, it was the silence that weighed the most—the long, lonely hours where I was left with nothing but my thoughts.
In the darkest moments, I found something I never expected: resilience. It didn’t arrive all at once, and it wasn’t always strong—but it was there. In the way I forced myself to eat despite having no appetite. In the way I smiled for visitors when I wanted to cry. In the way I clung to hope, even when I didn’t fully believe in it.
By the end of my second round of chemo, I was told the cancerous cells had not been eradicated. I needed to continue with the next phase of treatment and prepare for a stem cell transplant. But even after a third treatment, I still wasn’t in remission. I was then given immunotherapy.
Surprisingly, this was one of the lighter chapters in my journey—I experienced no side effects. My daughters even began jokingly calling me Dora the Explorer—I’m originally from Peru, where Spanish is the main language, and I was wearing a backpack 24/7 to carry the medication. That humour carried us through.
My second chance
In October 2023, I received incredible news: Anthony Nolan had found a perfect 12/12 donor match for me—a kind stranger from Norway. It was a second chance at life.
By December 2023, I was finally free of detectable cancer cells and cleared to go ahead with the transplant. My family and I were overjoyed. This meant I could live.
The big day came on 5 January 2024—the day of my stem cell transplant. I had been counting down with equal parts hope and fear. I remember lying in the hospital bed as the new cells entered my body, knowing that from that moment on, everything was different. The fight wasn’t over, but this was a huge step toward healing.
I stayed for four weeks at Nottingham City Hospital, cared for by an incredible team of professionals. The week before the transplant included six days of intensive chemotherapy. Despite its intensity, I felt mentally strong and positive. The night before the transplant, I developed a rash—but thankfully, it was resolved within hours.
Recovery
Shortly after the transplant, I developed frequent diarrhoea, facial swelling, and extreme fatigue. It felt like a new, more intense version of chemotherapy. Yet throughout this painful period, I felt the overwhelming love of my family, friends, doctors and nurses. I was supported in every possible way—from help with showering to encouraging words that kept me going.
Even in my most vulnerable moments, I never lost faith. Deep down, I believed I would survive.
The transplant left me with a pancreas that now requires enzymes to digest food, and I developed lactose intolerance. But I also gained something far greater: my life back.
I’m still here. Still healing. Still trying to make sense of all that’s happened. Some days, I feel strong. Other days, the weight of it all is overwhelming. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this: cancer took a lot from me, but it didn’t take me.
I am more than my diagnosis. I am more than the treatment. I am still here. And for now—that is enough.