I battled leukaemia and then lost my fiancée to cancer. Here’s how I found hope in the grief

“Unfortunately, you have cancer,” Brett Harman recalls being told over the phone. 

He was 26 when he received the diagnosis: acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, an aggressive cancer which needed immediate treatment.

“It was one of those moments where, as you have probably seen in movies, the camera pans out from a character and everything becomes big and echoey. It’s as if you are not in the room anymore. They said: ‘We need you in Nottingham hospital today.’

“I remember hanging up the phone. I cried, hugged my family, and I walked out into the garden and looked up at the sky. I don’t know why. I looked up at the sky, and I thought: ‘This could be the end.’”

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Brett went through chemotherapy and further treatment for three years. He was cared for beautifully by his partner Hannah, who was training to be a nurse, until he got the all clear.

“She was reassuring and loving and told me I would get through this. That was the voice I needed to hear from the person I loved. She was an incredible shoulder to lean on and a best friend. My family was amazing but, without her, I would have really struggled,” Brett says.

They had a few lovely years after Brett recovered. They got engaged in 2018 and found out that Hannah was pregnant in early 2021.

“Hannah had always wanted to be a mother,” Brett says. “We had cats, and she was so motherly and lovely. She was so kind. When we had the news that we were going to have a baby, that was the best news ever. Her dreams had come true.”

But a few months after that, their family was hit with another devastating blow. Hannah discovered a lump in her leg. It was cancer. Hannah was diagnosed with BCOR sarcoma and had to start chemotherapy urgently.

“She was fierce and never complained. She was in pain and agony, but she never said: ‘Why me?’ It was my turn to do what she did for me. I had to care for her and give her hope.”

There were fears for the baby because of the chemotherapy and Hannah had to be induced early. She nearly died during childbirth. “But they got control of it, stitched her up quickly,” Brett recalls. It was agonising for him to watch the woman he loves go through trauma, and he had a baby to care for too.

“I just thought: ‘If she doesn’t get through this, I don’t know how I’m going to do this on my own. I’ve not done this before. I work full time. I don’t know what I’m doing.’

“She was in hospital for quite a while after the birth because she was so poorly. She couldn’t breastfeed because of the chemotherapy. It was heartbreaking to watch. She just wanted to be a mother, and she couldn’t be. And I wanted to watch her be a mother, and I couldn’t.”

But Hannah did get to be a mother. In early 2022, treatment was going well and it was looking like she would get the all clear. She was getting stronger and by mid-2022, she had the strength to look after Summer. For about a year and a half, they got to be a family.

Then in 2024, the cancer came back – and it was likely to be terminal. Summer was two and Brett was not only having to care for Hannah, but he had to explain to his little girl why her mother was not home. 

Brett tears up as he remembers putting Summer to bed and her saying: “Can Mummy read me a story?” He had to tell her that Hannah was too ill that night.

“Not only was it difficult juggling a full time job and caring for a child, it was difficult to tell Summer why Mummy wasn’t here. What do you tell a two-year-old? All I said was: ‘Mummy’s just a bit poorly. She’s taking some medicine at the hospital.’ I had to cope. I had to for Hannah, and I had to for Summer. 

“I’m a very proud person. I’m very stubborn. I won’t be beaten at anything, whether it’s life or a board game. I think my treatment with cancer helped with that. But I was struggling. There were times, when she went back into hospital, when I started going through depression and anxiety.”

Meanwhile, Hannah’s condition grew worse. The chemotherapy depleted her immune system and she got infections, including sepsis. They had to put her on a ventilator.

“I remember being with her dad, Mark. We would be in there watching these numbers and just praying, holding her hand while she’s asleep, trying to see if these numbers would go up. And they wouldn’t. At the end of October, they told us that they can’t do anymore and they have to turn the machine off. So we made the decision – we had to – to let her go.”

Hannah died on 31 October 2024, 18 days before her 30th birthday.

Brett says it didn’t feel real for weeks. “Everyone handles grief in different ways,” Brett says. “I spent nights sitting on the kitchen floor crying.” 

He worried about not being able to raise a little girl in the way that Hannah would have been able to, whether that be plaiting her hair or understanding a teenage girl in the future.

“All these things were flooding into my brain, and I found myself putting her to bed, holding back the tears, and I would go and tidy up the house. I’ve got all these new jobs I’d never done before. When you’re a couple, you have your own jobs that you do. 

“I’ll do the bins, I’ll mow the lawn. Hannah did the washing, and she was good at sorting all the bits with Summer’s nursery. I had to learn new things. I had to be Mummy and Daddy.”

The hospital and Summer’s nursery were supportive. He was told that best thing for Summer would be to tell her that ‘Mummy was very poorly and Mummy died’, and they had to use the word ‘died’ because otherwise she could get confused.

Summer is three now. She’ll be four in December. She is doing brilliantly and Brett has learnt to plait her hair.

But Brett found that there was limited support for his own mental health as a single dad. He had gone to his GP for help but the waiting list was extensive. He found that the biggest help, beyond having supportive people around him, was TikTok.

Brett had been a teacher for seven years before his illness, after which he founded an escape room business with Hannah, which he still runs now. He also does voice over work. But he had always loved social media, and he decided to start making videos about films, gaming and pop culture.

“I could either let grief and loneliness consume me, and go down a dark path, or I could try and beat this thing. One night I thought: ‘You know what? I love TikTok. I think people have so much fun on there. Let’s try it.’”

TikTok was escapism. It was a release and a way to connect with people. “I was never really talking about my loss. I put that to one side. I was just happy entertaining,” Brett says.

Eventually, he posted about Hannah. He spoke about his grief, but he said he will hold onto hope and continue to provide for his daughter and try not to let it consume him. That video went viral and scores of people reached out who had been through similar circumstances to thank him for sharing his story.

Brett wanted to speak to give people hope that life can continue after losing someone. There is still so much stigma around talking about grief, particularly among men, but he wants to normalise it to help others feel less alone.

“Something devastating can happen but there is still hope and happiness in life. It’s just about finding that thing that keeps you going,” Brett says.

His TikTok now has hundreds of thousands of followers. He mostly posts entertaining quizzes about films or funny videos about TV shows like Celebrity Traitors. He has launched a podcast, Brettflix, where he talks about the latest movie news, celebrity gossip, and quizzes listeners on their pop culture knowledge.

“It’s an escape from the everyday. People can come home from work and just have fun. I would like people to see that someone like myself, who has gone through these things, can still enjoy life. There is still hope. I hope they enjoy my content. I just want to put a smile on people’s faces.”

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