This week, the This is Haslemere team had the pleasure of chatting with Sophie Disley. Sophie has always lived in this area. She was born in Bramshott Chase and grew up in Grayshott (she went to primary school there) and then went on to Bohunt in Liphook for secondary school. Now 39, she has spent her whole life in this corner of Surrey. Over the years, she has lived in Milford, Godalming, Guildford, Cranleigh, and Chiddingfold, and now she's back full circle in Haslemere with her husband and three children. 

Her words are so powerful that we felt it only right for us to keep this article in her words.... We would encourage you to read on. 

I'm a local girl through and through! This area is home in every sense of the word. I own my own marketing business, and my children are growing up in the same beautiful corner of Surrey that I did. There's something really special about raising your family in the place where you were raised yourself. I know these roads, these woods, these shops. This is my community.

The local community of small businesses I knew through my work have been absolutely incredible throughout my cancer journey. From the moment of diagnosis through surgery and recovery, the support has been overwhelming in the best possible way. Local businesses have donated amazing raffle prizes without hesitation. Friends have rallied around us with meals and childcare and kind messages. People I barely know have reached out with donations and words of encouragement.

That's what makes this place so special. When someone needs help, the community shows up. No questions asked. I've lived in a lot of places, but I've never experienced community support like this. It's been one of the most beautiful parts of this horrible experience, if that makes sense.

So, can you tell us about your cancer journey....

I found a lump in December 2024. Honestly, I thought it was going to be another benign lump like I'd had before on the other side. My mum and sister have always had lumpy boobs, so I just assumed it was the same for me. But Dr Claudine Anstead at Haslemere Health Centre didn't just check the lump I'd found. She examined my whole breast and found a different area that she said wasn't quite right. I am so incredibly grateful for her thoroughness. When I got home and felt that area myself, I honestly didn't think it was anything I would have gone to the GP about on my own. It felt like grainy sand under my skin. Nothing alarming. Nothing obvious.

But that's the terrifying thing about cancer. It doesn't always announce itself. That decision to trust my instincts and get the obvious lump checked potentially saved my life, because it led to finding something I never would have noticed myself.

The initial biopsies showed intermediate grade DCIS, but an MRI revealed it was far more extensive than anyone had thought. About 60mm across my breast with multiple areas of concern scattered throughout. It was quite shocking to learn how widespread it was, especially as much of it wasn't visible on standard mammograms. The cancer was hiding in plain sight.

On 22nd March 2025, I had a left mastectomy with immediate DIEP flap reconstruction at The McIndoe Centre in East Grinstead. Nine hours of surgery. They used tissue from my abdomen to create a new breast. I was incredibly fortunate to have an amazing team who worked together to remove all the cancer whilst giving me the best possible cosmetic outcome.

The recovery is intense. You can't move without help when you first wake up. You have to learn to walk again. You're hunched over for weeks. You can't lift anything heavier than a kettle for weeks. No housework, no heavy lifting, not even pulling laundry out of the washing machine. It was tough being a mum of three young children. I had been cut open from hip to hip and boy I knew it.

Our kids are 11, 9 and 5. I've been quite open and honest with the older two. At first we didn't use the word cancer but were very open about stuff in my boobs that needed to be removed by a doctor. They've seen my body and my scars. They've been so patient with me, though it's been hard for them. They couldn't hug me properly for weeks after surgery. They had to be careful around me. That broke my heart more than the cancer did, if I'm honest.

The final pathology was actually quite reassuring, though 'reassuring' is a strange word to use about cancer. It confirmed 60mm of high-grade DCIS, which is highly likely to develop into invasive cancer if left untreated. But it was completely excised with clear margins and, crucially, there was no invasive cancer component. The cancer hadn't spread beyond the milk ducts yet. My surgical treatment is now complete and is considered curative. I feel incredibly grateful it was found when it was. Timing was everything.

I've now finished my main treatment. I recently had some minor refinement procedures in October to perfect the reconstruction. I'm healing well and slowly getting back to normal activities, though I'm not sure what 'normal' means anymore. My body has changed forever. I have annual mammograms scheduled for my right breast and my first annual review is next month.

My biggest piece of advice is to know your own body and never dismiss changes, even if you've had benign lumps before. I could have so easily assumed it was just another fibroadenoma. But something made me book that appointment anyway, and my GP's thoroughness found what I couldn't feel. That instinct to get it checked, and her decision to examine properly, made all the difference. If I'd waited even a few months, high-grade DCIS is highly likely to progress to invasive cancer, and my story could have been very different. I might not be here talking about fundraising. I might be talking about chemotherapy, radiation, and an uncertain future.

You have 3 children, aged 11, 9 and 5, a boy and 2 girls. With 2 girls, might this affect them?

This is something that keeps me awake at night, if I'm honest. As part of my treatment, I was eligible for genetic testing because of my age (I was only 38 at diagnosis) and the high-grade DCIS found in my mastectomy. They tested a panel of 13 genes, including BRCA1 and BRCA2, under what's called the R208 criteria.

The results showed a VUS, a Variant of Unknown Significance, in the BRCA2 gene. What this means is that they found a genetic variant, but the doctors don't yet know if it increases cancer risk or not. It's not the same as having a known harmful BRCA2 mutation. My surgeon explained that it's not clinically actionable, which means it doesn't change my treatment or surveillance plan. However, in the future, this variant might be identified as a risk factor for developing breast cancer as more research is done.

The uncertainty is hard to live with, if I'm honest. I don't have a definitive answer about whether my daughters are at increased risk. There's a 50% chance I may have passed this variant onto each of my three children, but we don't know yet if that variant actually means anything. It might. It might not. We just don't know.

When I was diagnosed, my first thought wasn't death. It was whether I had passed something onto my girls. I think that shows how far treatment has come, that I didn't think it would kill me. But it also shows where a mother's mind goes first.

What I do know is that my daughters will be able to have genetic counselling when they're older. If they've inherited the variant, we'll know about it, and by then there might be more information about what it means. If it does turn out to be significant, they'll be monitored. They'll be informed. They'll never be in the position I was in, wondering if that lump is something or nothing.

It's not the clear answer any mother wants, but knowledge is still better than ignorance, even when that knowledge comes with uncertainty. It means my daughters can make informed decisions about their health as more research becomes available. That's why raising awareness about breast cancer in younger women is so important to me. Cancer doesn't just affect those over 50. It can happen to anyone at any age, and early detection truly is lifesaving.

For me personally, I've been recommended to have annual mammograms until age 50, and then I'll enter the NHS Breast Screening Programme thereafter. The VUS hasn't changed my management, but it's something we're keeping an eye on.

Can you tell us about the fundraising challenges you are doing? What and when are they?

I'm doing two main fundraising initiatives for CoppaFeel!

First, I'm hosting a 'Dip Your Boobs' event on Sunday 23rd November 2025 at MUD Retreat in Fernhurst (a natural pool and sauna). For a £25 donation, participants can take a cold-water plunge in the natural pool, with an optional 'dress up your boobs' theme to add some fun and humour to the day. Because sometimes you have to laugh, you know? Afterwards, everyone can warm up in the sauna and by the fire, and we'll have hot drinks, cakes, and badges for sale. 

This event is now fully booked but it's still possible to support it via the raffle I've also organised. This has incredible prizes donated by local businesses including Hemingways in Haslemere, The Mulberry Inn in Chiddingfold, Bakes by Eloise, and Yoga with Mary in Fernhurst. The raffle prizes are worth nearly £1,000 and include things like personal colour analysis, fitness classes, private swims, distillery tours, facials, meals, yoga sessions, and more. Raffle tickets are just £1 and are available to everyone, whether or not they join the dip. I'm absolutely thrilled to say I've already sold out of all the dipping slots, which is amazing. The support has been overwhelming.

Then, the big one: I'm running the London Marathon 2026, almost exactly a year to the day since my nine-hour mastectomy and reconstruction surgery. When I think about it, it feels almost unbelievable. A year ago, I could barely lift my arms. I couldn't get out of bed without help. I couldn't hug my children properly. And a year later, I'll be running 26.2 miles through London. It feels incredibly symbolic to be doing something so physically demanding just a year after such major surgery. It's my way of reclaiming my body, proving to myself that I'm still strong, and showing that recovery is possible even when it feels utterly impossible.

There are a number of cancer charities out there. Why did you specifically choose to support CoppaFeel? 

CoppaFeel! is the UK's only youth-focused breast cancer awareness charity, and that's exactly why I chose them. Their mission resonates with me on such a personal level. They're on a mission to get every 18 to 24-year-old checking their chest regularly, and it's all about early detection, which is exactly the journey I went on.

This work is crucial because the NHS screening programme doesn't start until you're 50, which means younger people are entirely responsible for their own early detection. If you're under 50, you are your own first line of defence. That's a scary responsibility, but it's also an empowering one if you know what to look for.

What I love about CoppaFeel! is how they meet young people where they are. They're in schools, universities, festivals, and all over social media, making potentially life-saving conversations completely normal. They're not being preachy or scary about it. They're making chest checking feel powerful, not awkward. They have a very cool, approachable vibe that speaks to young people in their own language.

They educate people on the signs and symptoms of breast cancer and, crucially, they empower young people to have the confidence to contact their GP and advocate for themselves if they notice something unusual. That confidence to speak up and push for proper investigation can literally be the difference between life and death. I had that confidence, partly because of organisations like CoppaFeel! making these conversations normal. Not everyone does.

I was 38 when I found my lump. I had no family history of breast cancer. I never, ever thought it would be me. But because I knew to check, because I had the confidence to go to my GP immediately, and because my GP acted quickly and thoroughly, my cancer was caught at stage 0. Early detection gave me options, gave me hope, and gave me my life back quickly. I'm here, I'm healthy, I'm training for a marathon. That's what early detection can do.

When diagnosed early and accurately, breast cancer treatments are more effective and survival rates are dramatically higher. Early detection truly saves lives. It saved mine. And that's what CoppaFeel! is fighting for every single day. They're creating a generation of young people who know their bodies, trust their instincts, and act quickly. That's powerful. That's lifesaving.

How are you preparing for these challenges? 

This is absolutely, completely, 100% out of my comfort zone! I'm not a natural athlete by any stretch of the imagination. I only really started properly running in September 2024 after being inspired by a local running event called RunChiddRun, just a few months before my diagnosis. I was just starting to enjoy it, just starting to feel strong and capable, when the diagnosis came and brought everything to a screeching halt for a good four months.

I completed Couch to 5K over the summer of 2025 and worked my way up to 10K by October 2025. I was so proud of myself. Then I had to stop everything for six weeks whilst I had my second reconstruction surgery just a few weeks back on 7th October. I'm still in recovery now, still waiting to get the running shoes back on.

So I'm quite literally learning to run whilst also learning to live in my reconstructed body. The physical challenges are real and sometimes overwhelming. My reconstructed breast doesn't feel like part of me yet. It's numb in places, hypersensitive in others. The scar tissue pulls when I move certain ways. I've had to relearn how to move, how to lift my arms, how to push my body without causing damage or reopening wounds. Some days the training feels impossible. Some days I wonder what on earth I'm thinking, signing up for a marathon.

But I'll be back running in no time, and I'm determined to cross that marathon finish line. If I can get through nine hours of surgery and the brutal 12-week recovery that followed (the learning to walk again, the sleeping upright for weeks, the pain, the exhaustion, the emotional rollercoaster), I can run 26.2 miles. I have to believe that.

Cold-water swimming has also been a huge part of my physical and mental health recovery, which is why the 'Dip Your Boobs' event feels so personal to me. There's something about the shock of cold water that brings you right into the present moment. All the worries and fears and what-ifs just disappear. It's just you and the water and your breath. It's been transformative for me.

What do your family think about what you're doing? 

My family have been absolutely incredible. I genuinely don't know how I would have survived without them. My mum moved in after my surgery to support my husband Craig and the children. She was our saviour, truly. She cooked, cleaned, and looked after the children when I could barely move, when I couldn't even get out of bed without help. Those first few weeks at home were so much harder than I expected. The hospital had felt safe, with nurses checking on me constantly. At home, I felt vulnerable and frightened. Mum made it bearable.

My husband Craig and kids will all be at the 'Dip Your Boobs' event, along with my sister, my two sisters-in-law, and close family. They're all joining us. They've all supported us with incredible kindness and, frankly, with their hands in their pockets too. The generosity has been overwhelming.

How can the community support you?

I'm aiming to raise £2,500 for CoppaFeel! When you think about what that money could achieve, it's incredible. Every pound helps them reach more young people, spread more awareness, and ultimately save more lives. That money could fund educational sessions in schools, provide resources for young people learning to check themselves, and support their incredible social media campaigns that make these life-saving conversations completely normal and accessible.

People can donate at my JustGiving page: https://www.justgiving.com/page/sophie-disley-coppa-feel

They can also buy raffle tickets for £1 each at: https://pay.collctiv.com/dip-your-boobs-fundraising-local-raffle-39616

Every contribution, no matter how small, makes a real difference. And if people can't donate financially, simply sharing my page or the message about checking your chest regularly is invaluable. That costs nothing and could save someone's life.

What is your advice for others?

My journey has taught me several crucial lessons that I desperately want to share with everyone who will listen:

Know your own body. Check your breasts regularly and get to know what's normal for you. I can't stress this enough. It's not just about finding lumps. It's about noticing any changes at all: dimpling, changes in skin texture, nipple changes, areas that feel different, even if you can't explain how they're different. Just something that feels off.

Trust your instincts. I already had a benign fibroadenoma, so I could have so easily dismissed the new lump as another harmless change. Part of me wanted to. Part of me didn't want to bother anyone or seem like I was overreacting. But I didn't, and I acted on that instinct to get it checked. Never talk yourself out of getting something checked because you think you're being silly or wasting anyone's time. You're not. You're absolutely not. Your life is worth that GP appointment.

Don't assume age protects you. I was 38 when I was diagnosed. Thirty-eight. With three young children and no family history. Breast cancer can affect women in their 20s, 30s, and 40s. The NHS screening programme doesn't start until 50, so if you're younger, you are your own first line of defence. Don't wait for someone to check you. Check yourself. Men can also get breast cancer, so this advice applies to everyone, regardless of gender.

Early detection saves lives. This isn't just a slogan. It's the truth. My DCIS was caught before it became invasive cancer. That's the difference between a curative treatment and a much more complex, uncertain journey with chemotherapy, radiation, and years of worry. The earlier cancer is found, the better the outcomes. It's that simple.

There is life after diagnosis. A cancer diagnosis is absolutely terrifying. I won't pretend otherwise. But treatment has come so far. I've been amazed by the skill of my surgical team and the results that can be achieved with modern reconstruction techniques. I'm healing well, getting back to normal life, training for a marathon, and feeling grateful every single day. Life goes on. It's different, but it goes on.

Checking your chest isn't scary. It's powerful. That's the message I want everyone to take away from my story. Make those potentially life-saving conversations completely normal. Talk about it with your friends, your children, your partners. Share information without embarrassment. Be the person who reminds others to check. Be the person who might save a life just by having a conversation.

If my story encourages even one person to check themselves or see their GP about a change they've noticed, then sharing it (all the vulnerability and exposure) will have been worthwhile. We have to talk about these things. We have to make it normal.

Finally, I want to say thank you to Dr Claudine Anstead at Haslemere Health Centre, who acted quickly, found what I hadn't noticed, and I genuinely believe saved my life by spotting what I didn’t.

Photography credit to Hester Barnes Photography