Oa Hackett: After breast cancer I knew I had to help others

She and husband Greg had just bought their first flat close to Norwich city centre, their careers were flying, their social lives were buzzing, their diaries were packed, it felt like life couldn’t have been any better.

She said: “We were sitting in our lovely new kitchen and I said to Greg: ‘I feel so happy right now, I just worry that this bubble is going to burst…’.

“A few weeks later, I found a lump in my breast…”

It was May 2014, around the time of her 28^th birthday, when Oa first noticed something unusual, something unsettling, the first red flag that something could be wrong.

She and Greg were on holiday in St Ives in Cornwall and had returned from a somewhat-stressful wind and rain-soaked cycle ride through the countryside.

“The only thing keeping me going was the thought of a Cornish pasty and a cup of tea at the end of it,” she laughs.

“But then we came across a lady who had collapsed at the side of the road and we stopped to help – by the time we got back to the apartment, I was wet through and shivering.

“I jumped in the shower and when I looked in the mirror I could see a lump sticking out of my breast. I showed Greg, he said ‘that’s definitely a lump…’

“I thought it was probably hormonal, probably just a cyst, so I ignored it. It was quite hard, you could feel round it, Greg kept telling me to go and see the doctor but I thought ‘I’m only 28. It can’t be anything serious…’.”

The next month, Oa and Greg went to a friend’s wedding.

As she lay on a bed with bridesmaid friend Michela, she asked her: “are your boobs lumpy…? Because one of mine has got lumps in it…She said no. She told me to go to the doctor straight away.”

Referred to the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital after seeing her GP (“the doctor said: ‘you hear of these horror stories, so just to make sure, we’ll refer you to hospital…I’m sure it’s nothing sinister…’”), Oa went for tests.

“I thought I’d be there for an hour or so, but there was a mammogram, ultrasounds and biopsies, and then the consultant said to me: ‘when you come back on Monday, don’t come on your own’,” she remembers, “so I knew then, really.”

Oa faced an agonising five-day wait for answers: at 9.30am on the following Monday, she went back to hospital with Greg, her mother Joc, her sister Lilly and her step-dad SImon.

“’You’ve got breast cancer’, they said. And my life changed, instantly.”

It feels as if some people are born with an overwhelming urge to make a difference to the world: Oa Hackett, founder of Breast Cancer charity littlelifts, is one.

The organisation quite literally does what it says on the box: care packages are given to patients about to begin chemotherapy or radiotherapy treatment for primary and secondary breast cancer, each filled with products and treats which can provide a ‘little lift’ during treatment.

Inspired by her own experiences, Oa channelled her feelings – a rainbow of emotions that included sadness, defiance, positivity and everything in between – to create something amazing.

But way before her cancer ‘journey’ (“I don’t like that expression, but it kind of is one,” she concedes), a casual observer could say that Oa’s compulsion to give back had been evident right from the beginning.

Born in Norwich, Oa has a sister and a half-sister.

Named by her teacher parents after the Mull of Oa, one of the most dramatic locations on the Scottish island of Islay, and also after warrior queen characters in a novel, Oa (full name Oamay, she dropped the ‘may’ after sixth form) and little sister Lilith (Lilly) were named for strong women.

When Oa was seven, her parents separated and half-sister Francesca lives with their dad in Italy.

“There was always encouragement from our mum that we would be strong and that we’d fight for what we wanted and not just follow others,” she said, “our names were definitely part of that.”

From an early age, she and Lilly shared a strong social conscience.

Oa recalls the pair crafting whale models with best friends Bess and Jess from cardboard and willow before carefully placing them in the summer house at the bottom of the garden, ready for ‘opening night’ of their Greenpeace exhibition.

Visitors were invited, donations were taken, the young curators were congratulated: their efforts recognised in the charity’s magazine.

“If you came to my house you’d see whales everywhere: I’m obsessed with them! It started with a book we both loved called The Whales’ Song [Dyan Sheldon and Gary Blythe] where a girl called Lily’s grandmother tells her stories about singing whales,” said Oa.

“When I was going through my treatment, I’d watch videos of whales, particularly orcas, in the wild, because it was so beautiful and calming.

“I told Greg that when I was through treatment, I wanted to go and see them in the wild: this thought kept me going.

“On our honeymoon, we kayaked with whales and it was so emotional, I just broke down, it felt like the trauma of the last few years was washing away.

“At one point, we were so close that a female orca looked me in the eye and I know it sounds strange, but it felt like she was saying to me ‘you’ve got this’. It was overwhelmingly beautiful.”

Naturally gifted at sport, humanities and languages and a Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award student, 18-year-old Oa decided to take a gap year after sixth form.

She worked in cafes and restaurants to raise enough money to spend nine months’ travelling in Australia with friends Ella and Beth before she took up a place at university.

She took a diving qualification, stayed with family in Sydney, fan-girled at the Neighbours set in Melbourne (“…we met Karl Kennedy and Toadfish and Lyn, who ran the hair salon, complimented me on my hair, I mean does it get any better?” Oa laughs), swam at the Great Barrier Reef, visited Uluru, sailed in the Whitsundays…

“It was incredible,” she says, “totally carefree and totally fun. I just loved it.”

After Australia, she took philosophy and cultural studies at the University of Kent having realised “science wasn’t a strong point”, cancelling out her fantasy job of physiotherapist to the Australian Rugby Team (a girl has to dream…).

Graduation was in 2008, by which time Oa had realised she wanted a career in the third sector, a profession which would help her to make a difference to people’s lives.

She volunteered for The Prince’s Trust, a youth charity which helps young people aged 11 to 30 get into jobs, education and training, and for The Big C, the East Anglian-based cancer charity and an internship at a London-based charity.

Offered a job in 2009 with The Princes’ Trust, Oa’s first role involved working with probation services in Suffolk: she worked with the Trust for eight years in a variety of roles.

“I loved it, I felt like I’d found what I was good at,” she said.

At an after-work pizza dinner with friend Ella, Oa’s waiter was Greg (“he’s just the most incredible human”): the rest was history, the pair have been together since and married in 2016.

It felt as if everything had come together: Greg had returned to university and then started film production company Spindle (clients include Nike and Huawei) with friends, Oa was loving her work, there was a new home and a wedding to plan.

And then came the lump, the appointment and the unknown.

Following that Monday morning bombshell back in 2014, Oa learned she had grade two stage three breast cancer that had spread to some lymph nodes.

There followed a barrage of further tests to discover if the cancer had spread to her lungs, liver or bones and the realisation that if it had, she would be incurably ill (which is not to say that stage four cancer cannot be managed and that people can live with it, they can and they do).

“That’s when the enormity of the situation just hit me,” she said, “that’s when you think ‘am I going to die from this?’”

A planned dream trip to Iceland with Lilly was cancelled due to further tests and instead, the family hired a barn in North Norfolk: as they were there, the results came through: the cancer hadn’t spread, treatment plans could now be drawn up.

“Life suddenly became about appointments, test results, and continual ‘what ifs?’ in your mind as well as dealing with other people’s reactions – it’s such a difficult and complex situation to find yourself in and of course, everyone deals with things differently,” said Oa.

With her best friend Ella’s wedding to concentrate on in August 2014, cancer was put gently on the back-burner until the much-anticipated Voewood wedding weekend had ended.

“And then I completely broke down,” said Oa, “I knew I had to start chemotherapy, that we couldn’t go to New York to celebrate Greg’s best friend’s wedding, that life was going on hold.

“Physically, I felt fine, so it’s incredibly tough to realise that you’re going to have to feel really ill in order to get better.

“I think the most frightening moment for me was when I attended my chemo planning meeting and when the treatment was explained to me and the long list of side effects were read out to me – I felt so alone, so terrified of what might happen,” said Oa.

“That was what sparked the idea for littlelifts: the idea that something could be created that would show people with breast cancer that they’re not alone, that other people understand and are thinking about them with love.”

Taking control over a situation where so much control was in the hands of a disease and its treatment was important to Oa, who held a head shaving party to raise cash for The Big C and raised almost £10,000.

“If my hair was coming out, it was on my terms and not into my muesli as I ate my breakfast,” she laughed, “I think it was the beginning of realising that something terrible could be channelled into something good.”

Oa had six cycles of chemotherapy from September 2014 to January 2015, followed by surgery and three weeks of radiotherapy. Active treatment ended in April 2015.

Signed off work for her fourth session, it was the thoughtful gifts and messages she received from friends and family that helped get her through treatment.

“The first three cycles were manageable and I could work, the last three were harder but everyone’s experience will be different, mine is what mine was and it won’t be the same for anyone else,” she said.

“There were times when it was really bloody tough and my bones were so painful, walking was too hard so I had to crawl and I had nausea, fatigue, mouth sores and everything was an effort. There were days when I felt fine and every day was a day closer to it being over.

“Work was such a huge part of who I was that the laptop had to be practically prised from my hands when I was signed off work. But it was then that I had the head-space to come up with littlelifts.”

Friends and family rallied with support throughout Oa’s treatment.

Friend Suni would buy bunches of tulips at the beginning of each chemo cycle, Rose and Tristan would send Booja Booja chocolates, Susanne, Alex, Amelie and Isla in Germany would send ‘chemo Advent’ bags with 21 little gifts to open between cycles.

Harriet, an illustrator, researched the side effects of breast cancer treatment and sent lolly moulds and a personalised lolly recipe cards (she’s created a version for littlelifts boxes, too), friends Jean and David sent the key to their beach hut in Wells-next-the-Sea.

Oa said: “On my tired days, mum would play Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off and we’d literally dance around our little flat shaking off the fatigue!

“Despite a super full-on job, my sister Lilly travelled from London every weekend to visit me, and my dad and I spent hours watching Come Dine With Me after a chemo sesh! I’d spend hours being crafty with Greg’s mum, Linda. Everyone got mini bunting for Christmas that year.”

“I tell my friends and family that littlelifts was down to them. Their kindness to me when I needed it most, the ‘little lifts’ they gave me when I was down,” said Oa.

When her treatment ended in March 2015 and she was told NED: there was no evidence of disease.

Her overwhelming feeling was that she needed to give back, to say thank you, to pay forward those ‘little lifts’ to the people she knew would need them most.

This year littlelifts celebrates its fifth birthday, having weathered the pandemic storm and grown year-on-year to become a charity that has sent out 5,000 boxes of kindness.

Utterly charming, engaging and funny, Oa is exactly the kind of person you’d feel able to talk to about anything, exactly the kind of person who you’d turn to when you needed to feel better about life: and her charity reflects that.

Her boundless enthusiasm for littlelifts is infectious: when she says she wants to help every single person diagnosed with breast cancer in the UK, there’s no doubt she means it, and she’ll achieve it with the help of team members Kay, Shopie and more recently George who joined as part of the Government Kick Start initiative.

What started as an idea as she lay in her bed, grew into a kitchen table industry and is now a small, thriving team based in an office just outside Norwich with the support of an army of dedicated volunteers, fundraisers and supporters.

“littlelifts has been a massive part of my recovery,” said Oa, who returned to studying in September 2019, completing a charity and social enterprise management course at Anglia Ruskin University and graduating with a First, “it is so rewarding.

“I’m glad I knew nothing about starting a charity at the beginning – because it is hard – but it is such an amazing thing to be part of and such a boost when we hear people (and their families) tell us what the boxes mean to them.

“Of course there is sadness, we have lost some of our box beneficiaries and it is heartbreaking, but we have to think about the good that we can do, the difference we can make.”

Each year, 55,000 women and 370 men are diagnosed with breast cancer and four per cent are under the age of 39. Every day in the UK, 31 people with breast cancer die.

“It’s figures like these and the amazing people that I’ve met that drives me to keep going every single day,” said Oa.

“I didn’t need cancer to make me appreciate what I had in my life because I already knew how lucky I was and how much I loved my life, but pre-cancer me would never have jumped out of a plane, but I did it, five years to the day that I was diagnosed. It’s changed me.

“It’s taken away my fear of trying new things and of being OK with trying and failing, rather than not trying at all. It’s made me mindful of my own wellbeing and made me really think about what I do outside of work to nurture myself, Greg and my family.”

To that end, there are lots of walks with Boston Terrier sidekick Norma (who has recently passed her Pet Therapy Assessment, so she joins the Hackett Kindness Team as soon as Covid restrictions lift to allow community visits), paddle boarding and dreaming up future adventures.

“My ultimate dream is that littlelifts doesn’t need to hand out any boxes because a cure will be found and no-one will need to go through chemotherapy or radiotherapy,” said Oa, “but until that happens, we will be here and we will try to bring a bit of kindness to people when they need it most.

“When you find out you have cancer, it feels like you’re in Cancer World while everyone else is living life as normal. Sometimes, just knowing someone else understands makes it OK. And one small box can make one really big difference.”

How can I get a littlelifts box or help?

Through partnerships with the NNUH, the James Paget University Hospital in Gorleston, the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in King’s Lynn, Ipswich Hospital, the West Suffolk Hospital and Colchester Hospital, the boxes are handed out to patients while a national partnership with charity Make2ndsCount supports nationwide referrals for those diagnosed with secondary breast cancer.

Through the Little Kindness Fund, supported by Spacemasks and Ansvar, people with a breast cancer diagnosis receiving chemotherapy or radiotherapy in the UK can apply for a littlelifts box, subject to funding.

Visit littlelifts.org.uk to find out how you can offer support, whether by personal donation, visiting the shop, corporate sponsorship, volunteering or donating products.