My son Tom was popular, funny and hard-working.
He loved life; he lived and breathed football, relished family celebrations and was known for his kindness. He was so energetic, always busy and up to something.
Then, just after he’d finished his A-levels, Tom started complaining of stomach cramps. The doctor put it down to stress, then irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). But the pain increased, to the point where my husband Richard had to carry our son up the stairs.
Needing answers, we took Tom to a walk-in centre. The next day, following tests, a doctor told us the terrible news that Tom had cancer – a soft tissue sarcoma in his peritoneum and pelvis – and it was incurable and inoperable. We were devastated but Tom refused to believe he couldn’t be cured: he was going to fight.
He started chemotherapy, having two courses every 14 days. It was aggressive and caused him lots of pain, so he was left feeling very weak and was sometimes forced to use a wheelchair.
When his hair fell out in clumps, he wanted control back, so he decided to do a sponsored shave for Teenage Cancer Trust. He’d been staying at their facility during his treatment so he could be in a comfortable environment with others his age going through the same thing. It really helped him – there was laughter there, as well as the sadness.
His sister Emma recorded the shave, and Tom posted it to an online fundraising page. People donated immediately. Within hours, he’d raised over £1,000.
Tom loved the feeling that his illness was doing some good. He wanted to do more, and set about planning a fundraising ball with entertainment, comedians and an auction. He gave a speech in front of 250 people and was so passionate and funny that people were laughing and crying. £25,000 was donated that night. Richard and I were so proud.
After that, Tom was on a mission. Throughout his treatment, he fundraised tirelessly. He spoke at events and when he wasn’t doing something active, he would be updating the world on his progress to rally donations and raise awareness.
Tom had a lot on his plate but I didn’t worry about how much he was taking on because it gave him such focus and drive. When Tom decided to do something, there was no stopping him.
One of the best moments was when Tom spoke about his journey with cancer before a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. The audience gave six standing ovations and Teenage Cancer Trust saw their biggest ever bucket collection.
Throughout all of this, Tom was declining – the chemotherapy was making him very sick – and the news from the doctors only seemed to get worse. Tom took every blow with the mindset that it might make people donate more money to beat illnesses like his.
He often talked about the future. ‘When I get better,’ he’d say, ‘I’ll launch my own charity for teenagers with cancer.’ And while I was tremendously proud of him, I worried he might not get the chance.
We’d met lots of people like Tom on the cancer wards, and their families. Each had their individual fight – not just with cancer, but everything that came along with it, like funding trips to and from hospitals, paying for accommodation and taking time off work.
We were lucky. We had a friend with a flat near the hospital where we could stay, and our workplaces were supportive. But not everyone had these luxuries, and Tom wanted to help them.
Sadly, exactly one year on from his original diagnosis, we were told the tumour had grown and spread to Tom’s liver. Only then did he accept his prognosis – but he still believed he would never lose his battle with cancer. He told me that it would be his disease that would be cold and dead in the ground because his spirit would be elsewhere.
Tom refused to go to a hospice, remaining in London’s Teenage Cancer Trust facility. After a few days, when Tom was very ill, he told me he’d ‘made my peace’ and I knew we were near the end.
I asked what I was going to do without him and he replied: ‘You’ll crack on, Mum. You’ll crack on.’
A few days later, my boy passed away. He was just 19.
That was seven years ago. Life without Tom was so hard but it helped to know how many lives he’d touched. His funeral was packed full of people and I knew Tom had done more with his short time on earth than most people did their entire lives – he’d raised £175,000 to fight cancer.
Richard and I knew we had to continue his legacy, so six months after our son’s death, we set up The Tom Bowdidge Youth Cancer Foundation with the tagline: ‘Crack On 4 Tom.’ Our aim was to support teenagers and young adults with the disease through funding research, providing individual grants and building age-appropriate rooms in hospitals.
Through events and fundraisers, we quickly raised thousands, then hundreds of thousands. Seeing what a difference it made, I quit my job to work on the foundation full time.
People need more help than we ever realised. Some are worrying about keeping a roof over their heads, feeding their families, while their children battle cancer. It’s the last thing anyone should have to think about.
So far, we’ve raised £310,000 towards research into rare teenage cancers; £126,000 has been used to create specialist rooms and facilities for teens in hospitals and we’ve supported over 300 young people with grants.
Every year, we host an event called The Feather Ball to raise money for our foundation with up to 300 guests. It marks Tom’s birthday and the start of our charity. At this year’s event in February we hit a milestone during the auction: we’d raised £1million since the foundation’s launch.
I thought about Tom’s first fundraising head shave, and how thrilled he’d be to know we’d done this in his name.
Since the coronavirus pandemic, our foundation has hit a bump in the road. People need help more than ever: we’ve seen an 1,000% increase in grant applications from this time last year that, fortunately, we’ve been able to fund. But with lockdown curtailing events we haven’t as much money coming in. The help we’ve received through grants is slowing. All we can do is hope for a steadier future.
People often ask me what the next steps are for Tom’s foundation and I don’t hesitate to tell them: another million.
My son made such an impact during his time on earth. He helped so many people and shared the message to live life to the full. In his memory, we hope to do the same.
As told to Kim Gregory.
Visit tombowdidgefoundation.org
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