My Story
Rob Steele – Date of Birth: 24/03/1970
In 2009, I started to notice a small mole growing on the left side of my neck. At first, I assumed it was just irritated from shaving — it bled occasionally, but I didn’t think much of it.
Over time, the mole gradually grew to around 4–5mm, and it began bleeding and itching more often. Still, I didn’t believe it was anything serious.
My wife, Mel, urged me to see my GP. The doctor at the time was a locum, and after a very quick look, he told me it was nothing to worry about — to come back in six months if anything changed.
Mel was still concerned, so I booked another appointment, this time with a different GP. He took one look and said it didn’t look right — and that I needed to be referred to a dermatologist.
I was referred to Dr. Mallett at Stamford Hospital. He took a biopsy and called me just seven days later with the news: it was skin cancer.
From there, I was referred to consultant Dr. Moncrieff at Norwich Hospital. He explained that this wasn’t just any skin cancer — it was melanoma, and its location on my neck made it especially dangerous. At that time, I had no real understanding of melanoma or how aggressive it can be.
Three weeks later, I underwent surgery — a sentinel lymph node biopsy — and had a deep excision on the left side of my neck. The incision was around three inches long, and much of the surrounding deep tissue had to be removed.
A Moment of Hope — December 2009
During the initial surgery, a lymph node was also removed from my left chest so that a biopsy could be performed. The goal was to see whether the cancer had begun spreading through the lymphatic system. Three weeks later, on 23rd December 2009, I received the call: it was all clear. The cancer had been fully removed. I was incredibly fortunate. From that moment, I had regular check-ups with Dr. Mallett at Peterborough Hospital every six months. These appointments monitored for any unusual moles or lumps that could signal the cancer’s return. I was back to living a healthy, active life — and I felt strong.Then Everything Changed — July 2015
On the morning of 23rd July 2015, everything felt wrong. I woke up feeling extremely disoriented. I had little to no movement in my right side, and I was violently sick. I couldn’t focus or understand what was happening around me. My speech was affected. My balance was gone. Paramedics rushed me to Leicester Royal Infirmary (LRI), where I had a CT scan. The results showed a tumour in the front left lobe of my brain.This diagnosis was a turning point. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Everything I thought I had already overcome was now back — in a new and terrifying form.“I had no idea how long it had been growing. But looking back… I remember feeling unusually depressed in the months before. Maybe that was the warning sign.”
I had further MRI’s scans where they also found lung, liver & chest gland tumours. Consultant had many conversations with my wife as I wasn’t capable of any understanding or had any mental capacity. My symptom’s (myself) were random light shows, language deficiency, memory, didn’t know who people were that came to visit or remembering family members, occasionally it did return and I could speak but its more off than on.
I was transported to Nottingham Queens Med after 3 weeks in LRI to have brain surgery, my operation was a huge success and after my operation I can remember firstly being very hungry and my speech had returned but not back to 100%. I still had memory issues, speech and a lot of weakness to my right side specifically my leg.
The Road Ahead
This diagnosis was a turning point — not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Everything I thought I had already overcome was now back, in a new and terrifying form.
Soon after the scan, I was transferred to the specialist team at Queens Medical Centre in Nottingham. Within days, I had undergone brain surgery to remove the tumour in my frontal lobe. The tumour was affecting my movement, vision, and cognition — and surgery came just in time.
Recovery was slow and painful. I had to relearn simple tasks and rebuild movement on my right side. At one point, I struggled to speak clearly or walk unaided. It felt like my body had betrayed me, and every day was a fight to reclaim just a little more of my independence.
After surgery, I was referred to oncology and started targeted treatment using a combination of Dabrafenib and Trametinib — BRAF/MEK inhibitors designed to suppress the spread of cancer cells with the specific BRAF mutation my melanoma carried.
For a while, it worked. But then, new metastases were discovered — in my lungs and elsewhere. That’s when my team decided to move me to pembrolizumab — an immunotherapy drug designed to help my immune system recognise and attack the cancer.
Starting Immunotherapy — Pembrolizumab
Pembrolizumab was a new kind of treatment — an immunotherapy designed to help my body recognise and attack the cancer itself. I began receiving infusions every three weeks, and while the idea of it gave me hope, the side effects quickly became a reality.
I felt exhausted. Not the kind of tiredness you can sleep off, but a deep, dragging fatigue that clung to every part of my day. I experienced flu-like symptoms, joint pain, and brain fog. At times I struggled to hold a conversation. My skin broke out. My confidence sank.
But I kept going. Because I had no other choice. And somewhere in all of it — I began to realise that movement was going to be my anchor.
“Cancer had taken my strength, my speech, even my balance — but I was determined it wouldn’t take my spirit.”
At first, all I could manage was walking around the block. Then a few seated stretches. Eventually, I got back on a bike — a moment I’ll never forget. I cried the first time I rode again. It wasn’t just a ride; it was freedom. It was me telling cancer: not today.
That moment changed the direction of my life. It wasn’t about chasing fitness anymore — it was about reclaiming ownership of my body and mind.
Today, I use movement as medicine — and I help others do the same. My program, Breathe. Move. Reconnect., was born from this experience. For every survivor who’s been left wondering, “What now?” — I’ve created something to support their next step forward.