Loop & Lift began on the day of my first chemotherapy treatment.
I knew the pump would be attached after the infusion and that I’d be going home with it. That had been explained. But I was so overwhelmed by it being my first treatment that I hadn’t really thought about the practicalities of carrying it.
When I was ready to leave, I was offered a donated knitted bag. It was a kind gesture and clearly made with care. But it wasn’t very practical and it didn’t feel like me. At a point where so much already felt clinical and unfamiliar, that small detail stayed with me.
I’ve since learned that many hospitals are unable offer anything at all.
So I went home and made something.
Not as a business idea, just as a solution. Sewing has always steadied me. Throughout my illness it has given my mind somewhere constructive to sit. I made a pouch that felt secure, functional and more like something I would choose to carry.
When I wore it back into hospital, the chemotherapy nurses noticed. They suggested I share it with other patients. That was the first time I considered it might be useful beyond me.
What followed was connection.
My sister immediately understood the practical need. Edie, our eldest daughter wanted to see every message and post and helped me take some of the early photos and videos. Delilah liked the idea that other people would be wearing something I’d designed and proudly told her friends. Friends offered help with marketing, publicity and web design, practical support given generously. I also began speaking to other patients, online and at the hospital, who understood the very specific issue of not having the right carrier for a medical device. It’s a small detail in the context of cancer treatment, but it affects you every day.
At a time when my thoughts could easily spiral, this gave me something purposeful to focus on. Making something useful helped me deal with what was happening.
In the early months, treatment was working and I was coping well with the side effects. Moving into spring and summer meant fewer viruses and fewer setbacks. There was momentum, both medically and with Loop & Lift.
Then in September 2025, my health shifted.
Scan results were mixed. A run of viruses followed, along with hospital admissions, new medication and new side effects. Plans had to be delayed, then postponed again.
Anyone who knows me will know that I am driven about things I care about. I like structure and I like momentum. Watching our initial timelines slip was frustrating. There were points when my focus wasn’t on website copy or product photography but on much bigger questions. When the future felt less certain, I did question whether there was any point continuing.
Loop & Lift didn’t stop, but it slowed. Sometimes significantly. That was difficult for me.
What has kept it moving isn’t momentum. It’s people.
We'd receive a message from a concerned daughter wanting a pouch for her dad. Or a parent who feels it might help things feel more normal for their children. One patient ordered several to donate to others in their local cancer unit.
Those messages arrived quietly but consistently. They remind me why this matters.
I’m learning how to build Loop & Lift around my diagnosis rather than waiting for everything to feel settled. That means adjusting expectations. Working in smaller windows. Accepting that uncertainty is part of the process.
I’m also very lucky to have my sister, who keeps me grounded when I feel frustrated and hopeful when I struggle to be.
Loop & Lift started as something personal. It has become something shared.
Thank you for your patience while we found our way here.
We’re so excited to finally share the finished website with you.
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