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Rebuilding From the Inside Out: Skin, Strength and Life After Cancer

  • Apr 2
  • 5 min read

The moment everything changed

I was 23 years old when my life split into a before and after. I went to A&E with crippling neck pain, hot sweats and severe lethargy and, the next day, after a series of tests, doctors told me I had acute myeloid leukaemia (AML), a very aggressive blood cancer. They had to act fast. One day I was a healthy law student preparing for my final exams. The next, I was a hospital patient in protective isolation facing months of chemotherapy and the fight to survive - with only a 20% chance of survival. My life had changed completely, overnight.


Isolation and the loss of touch

Because my immune system had been wiped out by treatment, I was placed in protective isolation in a small hospital room. I couldn’t leave except for appointments, transported by wheelchair. My family could visit only if they wore masks, gloves and gowns, standing at the end of my bed. No one could touch me; it was a profoundly isolating experience.


The first physical changes

The physical changes were confronting. My sister cut my hair before it all fell out and I donated it to charity, trying to take control of one small part of what was happening.


Before all this, I was genuinely phobic of needles (the kind of person who’d look away during a blood test and feel faint) and suddenly my body was no longer private. I had a Hickman line inserted into my chest, and my days became a cycle of cannulas, blood draws, injections and IV drips. The thing I’d always feared became unavoidable, constant, normal.


But the biggest shift was how unfamiliar my body suddenly felt. Treatment didn’t just make me ill; it changed my relationship with myself. Strength disappeared quickly, and I soon needed help to sit up or walk up the stairs. My independence was gone and I had to adapt fast.


Skin: the impact no one prepares you for

When chemotherapy failed to put me into remission, I eventually underwent a stem cell

transplant preceded by total body irradiation. Miraculously, my sister Sarah was my stem cell donor, so she quite literally saved my life.


The transplant worked, but I developed graft versus host disease (GvHD), where my new immune system began attacking my body.


My skin reacted dramatically. It shed in sheets and broke out in painful red rashes across my face and body. It became extremely dry, inflamed and sensitive, and it stayed that way long after treatment ended.


What surprised me most was how little this side of treatment is discussed. Cancer treatment can severely compromise the skin barrier, increasing inflammation, slowing healing and making skin react to things that never caused issues before.


When survival became recovery

I left hospital nine months after I first arrived, physically unrecognisable and incredibly weak. I couldn’t stand up from a chair without help and I vomited daily for months.


That was the moment I realised survival was only the first step. Recovery would be longer and quieter: rebuilding strength and confidence.


It was two years before any sense of normality returned to my life.


In hospital I had learned that small routines become powerful when everything else is uncertain. I made myself shower every morning and change clothes, even if it was simply another pair of pyjamas.


I also tried to reconnect with my body through movement. I bought a manual cross trainer and a yoga mat and exercised in my room, sometimes at 5am while still attached to an IV drip because the medication kept me awake. The doctors had never seen anything like it!


But just as important as the physical recovery was mindset. I was very intentional about

repeating affirmations (“Keep strong, stay really strong”) and visualising a future for myself using posters on my hospital wall. I made my mind my best friend to keep me moving forward, despite excruciating pain (mucositis is the worst) or the endless days kept in insolation.


Rebuilding skin and strength

Skincare became part of that same process. When I was finally able to be touched again, my sister Sarah started giving me gentle facials and massages to help soothe my inflamed skin and help me relax.


She began creating simple oils and blends to calm the dryness and sensitivity I was

experiencing. Those small rituals became deeply meaningful: moments of comfort, care and reconnection.


They also became the foundation of something bigger.


Years later, we started By Sarah together, our award-winning wellness business for people with sensitive skin. Our Hero Facial Oil was the very first formula Sarah made for me when my skin was at its most reactive and fragile, made with soothing natural plant oils and free from fragrance and essential oil, it was my skin saviour. Today it’s our best-selling product, winning Best Face Oil by The Independent for the past three years, something that still feels surreal considering it began as a simple act of sisterly care during the hardest time of my life.


Our Hero Facial Oil was the very first formula Sarah made for me when my skin was at its most reactive and fragile, made with soothing natural plant oils and free from fragrance and essential oil, it was my skin saviour.
Our Hero Facial Oil was the very first formula Sarah made for me when my skin was at its most reactive and fragile, made with soothing natural plant oils and free from fragrance and essential oil, it was my skin saviour.

What I wish more people understood

One thing I wish more health professionals discussed openly is how dramatically treatment can affect the skin barrier. Patients are understandably focused on survival, but understanding the potential skin changes (inflammation, sensitivity and slow healing) can make recovery feel less alarming.


I also think brands often misunderstand what genuine support for people going through illness looks like. It isn’t inspirational slogans or performative empathy. It’s listening, formulating gently and acknowledging the real experience of living in a body that suddenly feels unfamiliar.


Small steps back to yourself

Recovery taught me that rebuilding happens slowly and often through small acts of care.


A short walk. Caring for your skin. Gentle movement. Positive affirmations.


These rituals create structure when life feels uncertain and help reconnect you to your body over time.


If someone feels disconnected from their body after treatment, my advice is simple: start small and be patient.


Continuing the conversation

Sharing this experience has become an important part of my life. Every week I write a personal newsletter, Rise on Purpose, where I share one practical mindset tip to help people move forward and feel like themselves again.


One step at a time.

One day at a time.

Keep going.


By Sarah sister Lauren and Sarah
Sarah and Lauren

Lauren Murrell is an entrepreneur, former lawyer, and leukaemia survivor. Over the past 14+ years, she’s built resilience the hard way: surviving leukaemia, rebuilding her life, launching an international legal career, and co-founding By Sarah, an award-winning wellness brand, with her sister. Lauren shares practical tools that help people grow through challenges and show up with confidence, clarity, and optimism when life forces a reset. She has been featured in Forbes, Vogue, and The Times, and is the #1 Female Creator on LinkedIn.

 
 
 

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