Sbba's ovarian cancer story

My name is Sbba Siddique. I’m co-founder and director of Asian Star Radio, a Bollywood music station broadcasting across London. I’m also a craftivist, and for the past 10 years, I’ve run a knitting and crochet community called Knit Your Socks Off, now with over 3,000 members.

Together, we create items for charities - either to donate or to sell and raise funds. In the last year alone, we’ve supported more than 30 charities and made over 10,000 items. Knitting and crocheting carried me through many difficult nights during treatment.

But in March 2022, none of that mattered.

After six months of being misdiagnosed, my world fell apart. I heard the words no one wants to hear: Stage 3C ovarian cancer. As a woman over 50, my symptoms had been repeatedly dismissed as “just menopausal.” With no family history of cancer, the diagnosis came as a complete shock. I hadn’t even heard of ovarian cancer before, let alone imagined my symptoms could be cancer.

I know now I’m not the only one.

My treatment journey was brutal. I underwent two surgeries, IV chemotherapy, and oral chemotherapy.

The first surgery failed. The cancer had spread further than scans had shown. I woke up with a scar running from chest to pelvis - 48 stitches - and no progress. I was devastated, traumatised, and left with PTSD. Even now, I struggle to look at that scar.

Then came IV chemo. It battered my body - fatigue, hair loss, sickness, diarrhoea, loss of taste, and neuropathy in my hands and feet that still affects me today. It left me with a permanent disability. And still, it didn’t work.

My options were running out.

The only treatment left was oral chemotherapy. Its side effects mirrored IV chemo, but worse. A rash began on my face and spread across my entire body. I was hospitalised four times. Doctors in A&E told me it resembled acid burns.

My skin became painful, dry, and raw. I was shedding it from head to toe. My body drew heat from my organs to repair my skin - I burned on the outside while freezing inside. I would shiver uncontrollably for hours until exhaustion took over and I passed out, only for the cycle to begin again.

That was my darkest point.

I reached a place where I wanted it all to end - the pain, the treatment… even life. I was broken physically, mentally, and emotionally. Even now, years later, I’m still working through those mental health challenges.

And yet, I kept going.

I stayed on oral chemo for seven weeks. I couldn’t go further, but it was enough. The tumours had shrunk. My surgeon said, “Sbba, I’m happy to operate again.”

In February 2023, I had my second surgery. This time, it was successful. I was declared 100% tumour-free – NRD, no evidence of disease. Alhamdulillah.

What carried me through those darkest moments was my Muslim faith - it grounded me - and the love that surrounded me.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: knowledge is power.

Awareness of ovarian cancer symptoms is critical. Not just for women, but for GPs too. Misdiagnosis is happening every day, and there is still no effective screening programme for this disease.

When ovarian cancer is caught early, 9 in 10 women survive. Early detection means better outcomes, less invasive treatment, and more time with loved ones. Women need the knowledge, and the confidence, to advocate for themselves.

I was lucky. Many are not.

People say to me now, “Wow, Sbba, you look great. Your hair’s back, your skin’s cleared. You can put it all behind you.”

But you can’t.

Cancer doesn’t end when treatment does. It leaves an indelible mark - physically, mentally, emotionally. Once a cancer patient, always a cancer patient. What changes is the kind of support you need.

I’ve never called myself a survivor. What have I survived, when everything could change in a blink?

I call myself a thriver.

Because, despite cancer, I am still thriving.

But at the end of 2025, I had my “blink of an eye” moment.

The cancer came back.

I’ve already had surgery, and I’m preparing to start treatment again in the coming weeks. So it’s time to put my game face back on - to face what lies ahead with courage, strength, and faith.

Because one thing I know for certain is this:

I will never let cancer define me.