I lost my mum, Shirley Havens, on 11 August 2013, just three weeks after she was diagnosed with lung cancer on 22 July.
Mum was full of energy — bubbly, outgoing, and always on the go. She’d smoked from a young age, as many people did back then. She was a mother of five, a wife to my dad for over 32 years, and a proud grandmother to my little boy, who was three at the time. She loved spending every weekend with him. Just 11 days after she passed, her second grandchild was born on 22 August 2013 — a bittersweet moment for our family.
A Series of Misdiagnoses
Mum had struggled with painful bunions for years and finally got approval for surgery to have her feet corrected. The first operation went smoothly. After a short recovery, she was back on her feet and working again.
When she was made redundant shortly after, she focused on healing before her second operation. That surgery also seemed successful — or so we thought.
By May and June 2013, Mum began to experience severe back pain and swelling in her feet. Her GP assumed her foot had become infected and prescribed antibiotics and painkillers. But the pain didn’t go away.
By early July, her back pain had become unbearable. She could hardly move or play with her grandson, and it left her feeling low. She returned to the GP, explaining how bad the pain was and that she was now relying on her crutch to get around. Again, her concerns were dismissed — the doctor told her to carry on as normal.
The Pain Becomes Too Much
The pain soon became unmanageable. Mum admitted herself to A&E, knowing deep down it wasn’t just her foot. Doctors there gave her painkillers but couldn’t identify the cause. They recommended an MRI scan, suggesting it could be a slipped disc, and scheduled it for the end of August.
By mid-July, the pain had worsened so much that she couldn’t attend my brother’s birthday meal. That weekend, she went back to A&E. This time, doctors decided to run more tests, including x-rays.
On 22 July, after an overnight stay, an x-ray revealed cloudy areas in her chest. It was lung cancer.
Facing the Diagnosis
I’ll never forget that phone call asking me to come to the hospital immediately. I was out with my son at the park enjoying the summer weather. I dropped him off and rushed straight there. Mum told me the news herself — she had lung cancer.
Further tests confirmed it was stage 3. The doctors’ faces said what their words didn’t — we knew it was serious, and that time was short.
Despite her fear, Mum stayed strong. She joked with the nurses, chatted with patients, and kept her spirits up. She began radiotherapy to ease her back pain. My brother visited daily, bringing her toast — not just for her, but for everyone on the ward, just as she insisted.
Precious Moments at Home
After her biopsy, Mum was told she could go home to rest before her next treatment. We prepared the house so it would be comfortable for her — a hospital bed in the living room and a special chair she loved to share with my son.
She was nervous about leaving the hospital but soon settled back in. Even in pain, she never stopped smiling.
We held a baby shower for my brother and his partner so Mum could be part of the celebration. It was a beautiful day filled with laughter and love.
Her birthday, on 6 August, came just days later. We gathered for her favourite takeaway and made it a joyful day, despite her being confined to bed.
Her Final Days
A few days after her birthday, Mum began struggling to breathe. She was bloated and in pain, so we called the out-of-hours doctor. They increased her pain medication, but she continued to deteriorate.
We arranged a carer to help her during the day. By then, her back pain was so severe she relied on a zimmer frame to move around. When her breathing worsened, we called the doctor again. They adjusted her morphine dosage, but it was clear she was fading.
On Sunday, 11 August, we were all with her when she began to drift in and out of consciousness. We called 999. Paramedics arrived quickly, but Mum didn’t respond. She was taken to hospital, where she passed away peacefully.
It was just three weeks after her diagnosis.
Honouring Her Memory
Mum had always had a cough, but it was never investigated — something I’ll always wonder about. Could more have been done?
Since her passing, I’ve set up a tribute page in her memory and raised over £1,000 through family, friends, and fundraising. I’ll continue to support the Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation, helping fund vital research and support for others affected by this disease.
Mum’s love, laughter, and strength will always stay with us.