Meet Nick
Professor Nick Embleton had worked as a Consultant Neonatal Paediatrician in Newcastle for over 20 years helping to save the lives of thousands of babies, until in 2021 he became a patient himself when he was diagnosed with a rare type of blood cancer. His only hope was a stem cell transplant, and thankfully, thanks to Anthony Nolan a match was found, and Nick had his transplant in 2021.
Recovery was tough and Nick thought he would never get back to the job he loved. He kept a blog during that time, snippets of which he's shared below.
Four years on, he is back doing the work he loves, and he has met the man who saved his life. Nick has also been volunteering with Anthony Nolan to educate young people about the stem cell register and the difference donors make.
February 2020
Today I went to do the job I love, prepared to work the night on call, but instead came home at teatime with a “touch of cancer”! I had been feeling more tired than usual and convinced myself that I was just un-fit and getting old. I didn't really have any other symptoms and had no idea what was about to unfold.
The 24 hours between turning up to work, thinking I was going to work another normal day, and the next morning, when I finally plucked up the courage to tell my family, were the worst of my life. I was fully aware I might die. I felt saddest for my kids - I didn't want them to grow up the rest of their lives without their dad.
I was told I needed a stem cell transplant and this would be from an unrelated donor. In my work as a paediatrician in the 1990s, I had helped organise stem cell transplants in children using the Anthony Nolan team. Now I was relying on them to save my life.
October 2020
Around 30 minutes and it was all over. It'll take a few days / weeks for the new cells to set up home in my bone marrow. Getting my new cells isn't the end of it. Emotional yes, but for me no sense of relief that's all over. It's not. Not by a long way. More immunosuppression, bloods, headaches, nausea, drugs, temperatures, complications, sore mouths, skin and always the lurking fear of relapse.
A big shout out to my donor. I don't know who my donor is but whoever you are I am really grateful. I rarely show my emotions, but just thinking about my donor makes me feel quite emotional. We've made a good start, and it is a good day.
November 2020
After the serene beauty of watching the donor cells gently trickle in, all seemed good. However, to stop the new cells going on a total “Mad One”, and to keep what's left of my immune system from joining the party, you get 'immunosuppressive' medicines. They don't make you feel great. Sleep deprivation adds to the misery, and I apologise for not playing ward staff the electric piano I took into my hospital room during those dark days.
As the days went on, I felt a bit better, and my neutrophil and platelet counts are very slowly going up. Struggling to eat though, and losng weight. But, thank you Mx Donor; it does feel good. Long, long, way to go and many other future issues to contend with, but for now I’m so grateful to get through these first steps.
The staff on the ward have been amazing. Caring, efficient, professional; most importantly I really trusted them.
December 2020
I got to go home after 27 nights in a bubble. Getting home means better sleep, choice of foods - although the smell of most foods makes me nauseous and many still taste weird. Fruit juice and ice gets me through the day. I have to go to hospital twice weekly for bloods, to check my Hickman line etc. Fortunately, I live close to the hospital.
Getting to this stage is a good start but it’s tough. I'd mentally prepared myself for feeling tired, and “changes in taste or appetite” but hadn't expected to feel nausea/anorexia and dislike eating this long post-transplant and chemo. I've been reassured that this is normal but after a while it sort of drags you down. And that's mixed in with total lack of motivation to do anything. I have more energy though, so I’ve been trying to get out and walk more.
January 2021
Not going to lie, the start of 2022 has been crap. I started falling apart with graft versus host disease – GvHD - when the new donor cells started attacking my mouth and liver. I'm optimistic it will get sorted out, but GVHD can be pretty serious. I'm always looking for silver linings otherwise all of this would be relentlessly depressing, and there is some good news: It means the graft is working well.
February 2021
It is now 365 days since I worked in the ‘intensive care area’ of NICU. I really miss work. I miss the buzz, the excitement and challenges, the sense of camaraderie. I miss morning meetings, chatting with the trainees, coffee and lunch with colleagues. I miss speaking to parents, working out best management for the babies and always making the right decision. Being ill has really made me think about what it must have been like for the children with cancer and their families that I looked after years ago.
Caring for sick babies and families is where my heart is. I don’t think I’ll ever get back to that now, and it feels so sad.
Four years on
Gradually things improved. I had Extracorporeal Photopheresis (ECP) twice a week every two weeks which got rid of my GvHD. The ECP was a bit like dialysis – you are connected to a machine that transforms the blood cells causing the inflammation in GvHD into less 'angry’ sorts of cells! My eating improved and I started putting weight on again. Too much probably.
By early 2023 I was back at work, starting to go to the gym and regain my fitness a bit. Also starting to adjust to a life that’s a bit different to what I thought it would be!
In 2024 I met my donor. It was very emotional. I hugged him and told him: "The cancer cells have all gone. I would be dead if it wasn't for you. I've got four children - they wouldn't have their dad. Thank you so much."
I also started volunteering for Anthony Nolan, going into local schools to educate young people about the difference stem cell donors can make. Years ago when I was thinking about what job or career I wanted, being a doctor looked interesting, but it was also a job with ‘meaning’; the ability to do something interesting that contributes to society or helps others. I’ve always felt a deep sense of gratitude for all the good things I’ve had and experienced in life and wanted to ‘give back’. Supporting Anthony Nolan allowed me to feel that in some way I was giving back to the team who helped save my life.
Because I am a doctor, I have the advantage that I have a good understanding of blood cancers and stem cell transplants, and I can use this to better explain to students and others who are thinking about joining the register. I like to think that when students register, I might be playing a small part in saving someone else’s life, just like mine was saved by Marius.