Before cancer, my life was busy but predictable. I had a full-time job, a young child and a family to look after. My husband took our son to school in the morning, while I was responsible for picking him up after work. That meant starting my working day early so I could leave early enough to collect him from after-school club. Some evenings, when the Tube was delayed, he was the last child waiting for a parent.

It was exhausting at times, but I knew where my life was going.

Then cancer interrupted everything.

When I finished cancer treatment in 2019, I thought the hardest part was over.

I remember ringing the bell at the end of radiotherapy. People applauded. I walked out of the hospital wiping tears from my face, believing the storm had finally passed.

What I didn’t understand then was that when a storm ends, a city does not immediately return to normal. There is still mud to clear, damage to repair and a new order to rebuild.

My life was much the same.

I was still physically weak and often exhausted. Then, just as I was beginning to recover, the world around me became uncertain too. Britain was going through Brexit, and soon COVID arrived. Schools closed, businesses shut their doors and ordinary life stopped.

My son was still young. While my body was recovering, I became his teacher at home. There were maths and English lessons, lunches and dinners, and all the ordinary things that keep a family running.

I wanted to rebuild my life, but life kept getting in the way.

When the pandemic eased, I thought perhaps my chance had finally come.

Instead, the hospital returned to the centre of my life.

Appointments that had been delayed seemed to arrive one after another. Blood tests, scans and follow-ups filled my calendar. Sometimes I had several appointments in a single week.

I remember leaving the hospital once or twice and crying on the way home. Nothing terrible had happened that day. I was simply tired of hospitals being part of my life.

Why did everyone else seem able to return to ordinary life while mine was still being divided by appointments?

Gradually, they became less frequent. In 2023, I started applying for jobs.

Then I faced another obstacle: the gap in my CV.

During interviews, I explained honestly that I had had cancer. Sometimes there would be a pause. I also had to explain that hospital appointments were still part of my life.

None of those interviews led anywhere.

I was disappointed, but eventually I stopped trying so hard to return to where I had been.

In 2024, I travelled more. I cooked, exercised and began paying closer attention to nutrition. I changed the way I ate and gradually rebuilt my strength. I also started sharing recipes and some of what I was learning about healthier eating and exercise.

Most importantly, I allowed myself to enjoy life again.

And I was happy.

But after a while, another question appeared.

What next?

Travel was wonderful. Having more freedom was wonderful. But I was still in my forties. I wanted something more than filling my days with things I enjoyed. I wanted to feel that I still had something to contribute.

On 1 July 2025, I gave what I had been creating a name: Angelina Studio.

At first, it lived entirely on social media. There was no company, no office and no website. It was simply an idea and a place to share food, stories and pieces of life.

Then, in May 2026, I launched my own website.

That changed something for me. I was investing money, time and thought into building something of my own. I had to decide what was worth publishing, what I wanted to say, and what I wanted Angelina Studio to become.

For years, I had thought rebuilding meant finding my way back to the life I had before cancer.

Now I think about it differently.

A city rebuilt after a storm does not have to look exactly as it did before. It repairs what was damaged, learns where it was vulnerable, and slowly begins to grow again.

A life can do the same.

I am no longer trying to rebuild the life I lost.

I am building something new — and perhaps, something I could never have imagined before.

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