Lynn: “Supporting ovarian cancer research in memory of my mum”
At Ovarian Cancer Action, saving lives from ovarian cancer is why we exist. As the UK’s leading ovarian cancer research charity, we fund the research that makes earlier diagnosis, better treatments and breakthroughs possible.
But many of the people who support us do so for a deeply personal reason.
They’ve lost someone they love to ovarian cancer. A mum. A daughter. A sister. A friend.
For them, supporting ovarian cancer research is a way to honour that person’s memory, to turn grief into action, and to help protect other families from the same heartbreak.
Every breakthrough starts with a reason.
For Lynn, that reason is her mum and the experience of her ovarian cancer diagnosis, treatment and losing her. This is their story.
“My reason for supporting Ovarian Cancer Action is my mum; Eileen Muir. When the grapefruit sized tumour pressing on her bladder was finally diagnosed the cancer was stage 4.“
Once she was gone and the horror sank in, the question was ‘what on earth can I do?’
“Born Eileen Dunlop, she was named in memory of an Irish woman my granny knew and became Eileen Muir when she married my dad. As was the norm at the time, she left school at 14 to begin training as a hairdresser.
If you were to ask my daughters for their memory of their Granny, they would absolutely say her baking skills. She never felt comfortable if the treat tins were not filled with cake and biscuits.
She was an avid reader and in later life an enthusiastic puzzler and crossword addict. She was also very accomplished at dressmaking and knitting
She was my mum and she was always there for me. She used to make me clothes and knit my sweaters and nurtured in me a love of books by making sure I went to the library every week.”
Lynn's mother, Eileen.
“A story I always remember is that when she was 19, during WW2, she was sent to work in a munitions factory, hundreds of miles away from her home in rural Scotland.
To me this sounds terrifying, but she just got on with it and never complained. She suffered an industrial accident, and her finger was damaged for life. She told people it was ‘just’ the machine clamp that came down on her hand - as if this was perfectly ordinary.
In later years, when I had my children, she would come down from Scotland to visit and always insist she take over babysitting duties so my husband and I could have some time together. This was so typical of her. Always thinking of others.
Most inspiring of all was her determined spirit and stoicism. Nothing was ever too much trouble and she never complained. Sitting in hospital waiting rooms she’d look round and say, ‘some of these poor souls look very poorly,’ when she herself was very poorly.
It was the same quiet resilience she showed throughout her life and it was exactly how she faced her ovarian cancer diagnosis: with courage, concern for others, and without self-pity.”
Lynn and one of her grandchildren
“She never presented with any of the main symptoms of ovarian cancer but begun to have some bladder weakness. It was dismissed down to her age and that she was advised to work on her pelvic muscle control.
By the time the grapefruit sized tumour pressing on her bladder was finally diagnosed the cancer was stage 4.
It was a shock, but she just accepted her diagnosis without fuss and started her treatment.
Her treatment begun at 8am and the journey was over an hour, so it meant an early start. The drugs came from a different hospital, so everyone eagerly awaited the man with the red bag coming with the medication. If not, she had to wait, sometimes for hours for the medicine to arrive. If treatment wasn’t finished by 7pm, then it had to stop and she would have to come back the next morning. This happened at least five or six times and it was exhausting for all of us.
As you can imagine watching her bravely enduring this hopeless lack of care was heartbreaking. I felt she was just another case not an actual person with feelings.
And throughout it all she was her stoic self never grumbled never moaned. Asked how she was she always replied…”Och I’m fine”.
Another photo of Eileen
"Eventually she was admitted to her local hospice on a Wednesday in July. She passed away on the Friday. Those two days were just the best. She was treated with reverence and respect and I was too. The team were amazing.
I did everything I could to support mum throughout the 18 months of her illness, sometimes flying to Scotland for the day to take her to appointments. I think I was probably so focused on her care I didn't have time to think about me.
Once she was gone and the horror sank in the question was ‘what on earth can I do?’
Somewhere I heard about the fledging charity Ovarian Cancer Action (it was 2006) and realised cash was what was needed for the research to enable other women's ovarian cancer to be diagnosed before it is too late.”
Then the charity suggested holding 'a cupcake break' to raise funds and bingo! I wanted to remember the queen of cake by making cake.
“Every summer I host my tea party (with a quirky theme) and people eat cake and drink tea and donate to Ovarian Cancer Action.
If diagnosis can be improved and ovarian cancer spotted earlier, then I shall be so happy, and no one will have to endure what my mum did.”
Behind every diagnosis is a person. Behind every breakthrough is a reason. For some, it’s hope for the future. For others, it’s the memory of someone extraordinary. This Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, discover more about how you can turn your reason into life-saving research.
