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Music artist Damian Knowles – also known as KNWLSY - was diagnosed with stage 3 locally advanced bowel cancer in February 2023. Following successful surgery and chemotherapy, he now has no evidence of disease. Here, the 44-year-old father of four explains why new developments in cancer research give him hope.
During 2023, I had been doing a lot of fundraising activities and had challenged myself to eleven fitness challenges in eleven months. In September, I took part in a moonlight marathon; carrying a heavy backpack and wearing a tutu, I spent the night walking and dancing through the streets of London.
The following day, I noticed a pain in the left side of my stomach, and I thought I could feel a lump. I had also spotted what I thought was blood in my stool. After a few days, the pain worsened, so I went to A&E. The doctor checked my stomach and told me he thought I had probably torn a muscle while dancing around during the night marathon. But my symptoms continued. I knew the bleeding was something that should be checked out and I felt something wasn’t right. When I went back to A&E a few days later, I was reassured there was nothing to worry about and was told to see my GP for an internal exam.
At the beginning of October, I visited my GP. He did an internal exam, and I showed him photos of the blood in my stool. He was not concerned there was anything serious going on but suggested I send a stool sample for testing.
By the end of October, I was feeling a bit better, and my health was not at the forefront of my mind; I was extremely busy with work, so my focus was on that. I felt fine during November, but things took a turn for the worse on Christmas Day. I felt as though my stomach was being inflated and it would not stop. It was very painful and I was in a bad way. By 27 December, I could barely walk and the stomach pain was so bad, I kept blacking out. My wife took me to hospital.
I had blood tests done which revealed my blood was thick, like jam. The doctors suspected I had diverticulitis, a digestive condition, and might need surgery. I was put on a drip and spent four days in hospital having various tests, including a CT scan. Eventually, I was told I probably had colitis (inflammation in my colon) and I was discharged, with a colonoscopy booked for eight weeks later. While waiting for this appointment, I tried various diets to ease my symptoms, cutting out gluten, dairy, then trying to only eat white foods. But I was still experiencing pain, sometimes so bad that I was on my knees. I later learned that this pain was my stool stretching my colon as it tried to pass around a tumour.
“I didn’t want to give this cancer any space in my head”
In February 2024, I had my colonoscopy. At first, the doctor was confused – my colon looked clean and healthy. But then he found a black lump and could not get the camera to pass it. It was clear this lump was not supposed to be there. He marked the spot with a tattoo inside my colon which, as someone with tattoos all over their body, I thought was pretty cool. It never occurred to me to be concerned at that point. I knew nothing about bowel cancer, its symptoms or what to look out for — and of course, several doctors had already told me there was nothing seriously wrong with me.
I told my wife about the black lump, and she immediately understood that this was not good news, though she did not let on at the time. Meanwhile, I was more excited about the fact that I now had a tattoo inside my body to add to all the ones on the outside!
The doctor told us there was an 80 per cent chance the lump could be cancer, a 20 per cent chance it was not. I was happy to focus on the 20 per cent – that’s the type of person I am. I had come out of hospital in December and performed a gig on New Year’s Eve; in my mind, it just couldn’t be that bad. However, while my wife was keen to read all the information booklets, I just wanted to know what needed to be done next.
.jpg?sfvrsn=4d74922b_1 "Music artist Damian Knowles, also known as KNWLSY (Credit: Damian Knowles)")
Image: Music artist Damian Knowles, also known as KNWLSY (Credit: Damian Knowles)
I was told that a consultant would contact me for further tests to determine if this was cancer and if so, how advanced it was. The following day, I got a call from the colorectal nurse and that’s when the reality of it all properly hit me. She used the term ‘pathway’ which to me, felt like the road to the end. I collapsed in the kitchen, suddenly fearing that I had not had enough time with my kids, especially my five-year-old who was still young enough to forget me. I knew that I needed to lock into a more positive space in my mind to get to the other side of this. I didn’t want to give this cancer any space in my head. I spent a lot of time meditating, reading, journalling, getting in touch with my spiritual side. I cut everything off to focus on getting well.
The consultant confirmed my diagnosis a short while later. I had stage 3 N1 bowel cancer, which meant it had spread to nearby lymph nodes, and the consultant did not want to wait around to start treatment. He booked me in for blood tests and other tests so that we could proceed as quickly as possible. The plan was to remove the tumour urgently and then follow up with chemotherapy if required.
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My surgery was planned for May 2024, and I tried to spend as much time as possible with my kids in the run-up to it, celebrating birthdays and doing fun things together. In April, I got a call to say there had been a cancellation, and my operation could be brought forward. I am convinced this saved my life. I underwent robotic surgery to remove the tumour, along with 30cm of my colon and 22 lymph nodes. Afterwards, I was told that the tumour had started to spread and was just a paper-thin distance away from penetrating through my colon wall.
“I am aware that not everyone is as lucky as me”
Signing the consent form ahead of my surgery was a tough moment. Understanding all the things that could possibly go wrong was incredibly scary. I was warned I could wake up with a stoma, that there was a risk I would be paralysed, suffer from erectile dysfunction, or even die. The fear about what could happen, on top of dealing with a cancer diagnosis, was enormous. After over six hours in theatre, the first thing I did when I came round, was to tap my stomach to check if I had a bag and wriggle my legs to check I could still move. I am so thankful the surgery was a success and am only too aware that not everyone is as lucky. It hits me hard when I hear of others – like Dawson’s Creek actor James Van Der Beek – who had the same cancer as me and didn’t make it.
Following my surgery – and once my healing was complete – I started a three-month course of chemotherapy. As some cancer had been found in my lymph nodes, this was necessary to mop up any remaining cancer cells in my system. I was offered chemo in tablet form, as part of a trial study, which was looking at using small pieces of the DNA of bowel cancer that circulate in the blood to work out whether cancer might come back. My blood is tested regularly and will continue to be for the next five years.
My chemo started in July 2024. I had to take 12 tablets a day over a three-month period (four rounds of treatment in total). After round one, I felt great and my energy levels even increased. During round two, I ran a 10K to raise funds for a cancer charity. Rounds three and four totally wiped me out. I completely crashed. I am still suffering the effects of the chemo treatment now, including nerve damage in my hands and feet, as well as fatigue.
When my chemo finished, I went to see a psychologist for a period of time to help me deal with the trauma of everything I had been through. I know that some of the fatigue I feel is driven by the trauma of my experience. Some days I can’t even get up.
With that said, since October 2024 there has been no evidence of disease in my body. I am no longer on any treatment but have regular check-ups and scans every six months.
I have been very lucky to have a close extended family and a strong network of support around me. My wife has been incredibly strong and has held me up through all of this. She was my carer – she helped me shower, get dressed, did everything for me. If she had her moments, she kept these away from me. I know there were times that she struggled with it all, but she did her best to keep me in a positive headspace and not let me see her own stress.
We tried to keep everything as normal as possible for the kids. I made sure I was very present throughout. I did the school runs; I tried not to look exhausted or be out of it for the kids. We made their school aware of what was going on and tried to be very open with them about my cancer. My older boys were 16 and 19 at the time and understood what was happening. With my younger sons (who were only five and seven at the time), we decided not to use the word ‘cancer’. Instead, we gave my disease the name ‘Colin’. We explained that Colin was in Daddy’s tummy and that he was making Daddy feel unwell, so he needed to come out.
My diagnosis has definitely been tough on them all. All my boys felt the impact in their own way, from the youngest through to my eldest. The whole family is still on the journey of processing what we all collectively went through in our own way. My diagnosis and even my recovery has impacted everyone in my family and my close friends.
“So much can change in the space of 12 months”
When I first had my surgery, I could only walk 26 steps. It was the weekend of the London Marathon, and we all joked about the fact that for every step I could take, the runners were doing a whole mile. I decided then and there that I would run the London Marathon the following year: from 26 steps to 26 miles. In hospital following surgery, I had felt weak and vulnerable, but I wanted to show that I could come out the other side and give hope and positivity to others. It was a very different version of me back then – I have changed so much.
My wife and I ran the London Marathon together in 2025, raising almost £7,500 for research into bowel cancer. I wanted to show people what you can achieve if you put your mind to it, and that so much can change in the space of 12 months. We started the Marathon together, but I knew that the chemo had destroyed so much for me, so we agreed to run the race itself separately. As I was coming over Tower Bridge, my knee gave way. I had semi-dislocated my kneecap, but I was determined to finish the course. In the end, I made it over the finish line in 7.5 hours, 45 minutes slower than my wife, which gave the kids much to laugh about.
I am generally a positive person, but I do sometimes think about the possibility of the cancer coming back, of getting a secondary cancer. I know I need to get to five years clear as a first hurdle, and then ten years clear of the disease. I fear what might happen in the future, but I know that if I focus on that too much, I don’t appreciate what I have now. I live much more in the present now than I did before my illness. The fears do surface, but I try to bat them away. There is no cancer in my body at the moment, so I tell myself there is nothing to worry about right now. I try to look to the future and want to give people hope.
“Cancer research is the reason I am here”
Cancer research is the reason I am here. Without the knowledge, technology and treatments that we have today, my four kids would have lost their dad, and my wife would no longer have her husband. It was research that was behind the machine that carried out my robotic surgery, allowing me to have my cancer removed in a less invasive way than traditional techniques, and with an easier healing process.
The developments that come every day from scientists pushing the boundaries mean we will hopefully reach a point where we can tackle cancer before it even appears. It would be great to get to the point where people can go for a preventive cancer jab in the same way as they go for a flu jab, so we can beat this disease before it even starts. Bowel cancer is so prevalent these days, and increasingly among young people, but it is exciting to hear that new technologies – and even vaccines – are on the horizon.
For me, the message is that people need to know the symptoms of cancer and be prepared. I didn’t smoke, I didn’t drink, I ate well and was fit and healthy. After my diagnosis, I learned that my tumour had a faulty BRAF gene – which suggested the cancer was aggressive and less likely to respond to some treatments – there was nothing I could have done about that. I trusted my medical team and concentrated on keeping myself mentally strong. More research into why genes malfunction will give us answers that will save more lives in the future.
I’m planning on organising a Rave Against Cancer, using music to bring people together and raise awareness about the disease. I don’t want people to be frightened of the word ‘cancer’. I want my story to give people hope.
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