In December 2014, shortly before his 32nd birthday, Mo Haque was diagnosed with stage 4 inoperable bowel cancer. He was told there was only a small chance he could be treated successfully. However, thanks to immunotherapy, he has had no evidence of disease since 2018. Following his diagnosis, Mo also learned he had Lynch syndrome, a genetic condition which makes him more pre-disposed to certain types of cancer.
My symptoms first started in the spring and summer of 2014. I was getting severe stomach cramps that would only go away if I stood up and paced around, and I needed the toilet more. I would have to get up in the middle of work meetings and excuse myself to go to the toilet.
My fitness levels were also faltering. I was used to running a lot and regularly ran laps with my running buddy. We had always been at the same fitness level and ran together, but I started noticing that he was leaving me behind, lapping me on the running track. It was as if I had lost my form overnight. It didn’t make sense.
Then, one day in October, I was on the tube coming home from work. I remember I was reading the paper, about the big Tottenham Hotspur match taking place that evening. I suddenly had severe pain in the left side of my abdomen. It was different to the previous pain I’d experienced – it was more severe and would not go away. That evening, I watched the football on TV, still in pain, and the pain was still there when I went to bed. I was healthy, ate well and went to the gym regularly. It never crossed my mind it could be anything serious.
But the next morning, when I woke up and tried to move, the pain was still there. A friend suggested I go to A&E, so I set off, walking very slowly. I must have looked incredibly unwell as another friend, who spotted me from the bus as he passed by, messaged me asking if I was alright.
When I arrived at the hospital, the triage nurse asked if I had taken any painkillers. I knew it was a different kind of pain that I was feeling, but for a moment, I felt stupid, as if this was something that should go away with paracetamol. She gave me some painkillers and told me to wait for a doctor to see me. The pain did not ease.
Eventually, I saw a doctor who did some blood tests. These showed that I was anaemic. He asked about my family history, and I mentioned that I had lost my dad to bowel cancer in 1985 when I was two years old. The doctor said I would need to have more tests, including a camera inside me to see what was going on. He gave me something for the anaemia, some antibiotics and told me to take some over the counter codeine for the pain. I would be given a follow-up appointment for further tests.
“I never believed I could have cancer”
I carried on working, but the painkillers did not help. My bowel habits had changed and I needed to go to the toilet more frequently but I hadn’t noticed any blood in my stool. I was going back and forth to the GP for solutions to control the pain. Each time I would see a different doctor. One of them asked me to step on the scale and I was shocked to see how much weight I had lost. I had noticed I needed to use a belt to hold up my jeans, but I had not realised I had lost 5kg without even trying. That’s when things started to click for me – the weight loss, the constant pain, the frequency in needing the toilet… But I never believed I could have cancer.
On 6 December 2014, I went for an endoscopy and colonoscopy. The colonoscopy was very painful and I was told that due to inflammation in my bowel, it could not be completed. I was sent for an immediate CT scan to check for Crohn’s Disease or possibly cancer. I wondered whether the doctor knew it was cancer, but didn’t want to scare me by telling me he’d found a mass. While waiting for the scan results, I Googled Crohn’s Disease. I was hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
A week later, I had a follow-up appointment with the consultant. It was then I was told I had bowel cancer. He answered all my questions, even drawing me a picture of where the mass had been found in my bowel. But he explained that I would need to meet the oncology team to find out more and determine the next course of action. He could not tell me how advanced the cancer was, but he did say the mass was quite large.
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It was a shock. I felt like everything around me stopped. I just wanted to wash everything away. But I had done a lot of personal development over the years, and I realised in that moment that all the psychology I had studied was preparing me for this ultimate test. I was able to access the inner resolve to get through it, and at that point, I felt optimistic, I felt I could get through this.
“I left the appointment in tears”
I was due to see the oncologist the following week. In the meantime, I searched online about the different stages of cancer and was aware that it needed to be caught early to have the best chance of a favourable outcome. So, when the oncologist told me my cancer was stage 4, inoperable, and that there was only a small chance of treating it successfully, it was very hard to hear. He laid out the treatment plan for me, explaining that I would start chemotherapy on Christmas Eve to try to shrink the tumour.
I left the appointment in tears. At this point, the picture seemed very bleak to me. I was devastated. I remember signing the consent form ahead of starting my chemo, thinking ‘What’s the point?’ as my chances were small.
I decided to see an integrated physician privately who proved invaluable to me in terms of providing alternative therapy, advice and mental health support. As I was going through treatment and all its side effects, he worked with me on my mind, my emotions and my spiritual side to help me stay positive. It was a sort of therapy for me. He also suggested that I should ask my oncology team about genetic testing.
As a result, I was put forward to see a geneticist. I wanted the process to move quickly, but there was so much happening. I had six cycles of chemo, but a CT scan in March revealed I had a clot in my lungs. My immunity was poor, so I was forced to remain in isolation, and I was so unwell that my appointment with the geneticist was pushed back.
By April, my tumour had shrunk enough for me to have surgery. I had an ileostomy, where my colon was removed along with part of my stomach as the cancer had spread there too. After the operation, I was given another six cycles of mop-up chemo to reduce the risk of cancer recurring.
I started my recovery and returned to work. But in September, I met my oncologist again and he told me that things were up in the air. The cancer was growing again and was now in my lymph nodes. By this time, I had also been through genetic testing and had found out I had Lynch Syndrome, a genetic condition that increases my risk of developing certain cancers. Because of this, my oncologist suggested I would be a good candidate for immunotherapy.
I was put on another six cycles of chemo, but in December I received bad news. The chemo was not working, the cancer was growing again and it was now terminal. There was no more treatment available to me.
“I started questioning the price of life and whether I was deserving of it”
I asked about the option of immunotherapy, but it was not available to me on the NHS. I applied to be put forward for clinical trials and approached 2016 with a feeling of hope. But in January, I was told that there were no suitable trials opening for me. I was put on a phase 1 checkpoint inhibitor – a type of immunotherapy that targets proteins that regulate the immune response – but my first scan revealed that this was not working. In February, one of the nodes in my neck ballooned and I was given 10 days of radiotherapy.
I continued to chase potential trials and studies, but everything that fitted my type of genetic profile was either closed or completed. I applied for immunotherapy on the grounds of compassionate use but was turned down for this.
Then a friend suggested that we fundraise for me to have the treatment privately. At first, I was against the idea. I felt I would be begging for my life. I went to bed every night, not sure if I would be able to sleep or whether I would wake up the next morning. I started questioning the price of life and whether I was deserving of it.
Then one night, I experienced one of those ‘dark night of the soul’ moments. It changed me. I suddenly felt awakened, worthy and deserving of life. We started fundraising in earnest, setting up a JustGiving page and promoting my story on Facebook. Word spread and the local newspaper picked up my story. I went to see my local MP – who at the time was Sir Keir Starmer – and he took on my case. My story featured in the London Evening Standard and the ITV News. We managed to raise close to £200K to fund my treatment.
“By 2018, there was no evidence of disease in my body”
Thanks to this, I started immunotherapy in June 2016, and I was on it for a year. After the first month of treatment, the cancer started reducing, but even after the year was complete, it continued to work. I was scanned every four weeks, then every eight weeks. By 2018, there was no evidence of disease in my body and my scans since then have continued to show I am cancer-free. I had my last scan in April 2025 and now, after ten years of monitoring, I have been discharged by my medical team. Symbolically, I can draw a line under it all. My cancer story is over.
I still suffer some side effects as a result of the immunotherapy treatment, particularly rheumatoid arthritis which still affects my hands from time to time.
I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in 2023 and had to have surgery to remove my rectum. I spent 39 days in hospital. Because of this, I was unable to have my ileostomy reversed so I still have a stoma bag. After my very first surgery, I had initially thought I would have a stoma for nine months, but I am grateful to the stoma nurses who warned me at the time that it might not be a smooth journey. They planted the seed in my mind that I might have to live with it for longer. Now, I know that I will have my bag for life. I have had accidents and it has not always been easy, but I have learned to live with it and accept it. I have managed to travel, climb mountains, spend several weeks in the jungle and I continue to run, swim, dance and live life to the full. There have been scary moments, but it doesn’t hold me back.
“I’ve started the next chapter of my life”
Cancer research has been absolutely crucial in keeping me alive. I am very aware that I have benefitted from previous immunotherapy research. In 2019, I was invited to speak at a Lynch Syndrome conference in the USA where I met a woman whose sister had been on the clinical trial which led to the development of my immunotherapy treatment. Her sister sadly passed away, but it was very emotional to meet someone directly connected to the research that saved my life.
If it was not for the scientists and researchers who are continually plugging away, the immunotherapy drug I took might not have been available to me. I remember when they cracked the genome in the 1990s. I was still a student at the time, but all those years later, key discoveries have led to bigger things. In my case, scientists have been able to put the pieces together which has given me a new option for treatment. The data will tell you that with my diagnosis of stage 4 bowel cancer, I should not be alive, but here I am because of the drug I was given.
These days, when I go for a run in my Saturday morning running club, no one would even know I had cancer. I've started the next chapter of my life and make the most out of the life I've been given.
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