When Lisa Wilkie walks onto the stage at Courage on the Catwalk in May, it will mark an end to the most tumultuous chapter of her life.
In the past two years, the 43-year-old mum-of-two has been diagnosed with breast cancer, endured months of chemotherapy, and emerged — tentatively — on the other side.
The Courage charity fashion show at P&J Live in Aberdeen, where she will join 23 other models, all with their own cancer stories, will be a chance to draw a line under everything.
“It feels like a way to move forward on my own terms,” she says.
But she knows it won’t be that simple. Even with a full recovery, cancer leaves its mark.
So while Courage on the Catwalk will close one chapter, it also marks the beginning of the next.
Lisa’s lump that wouldn’t go away
At the National Hyperbaric Centre in Aberdeen, where she manages a facility training deep sea divers, Lisa has spent years helping people recover from being pushed to their limits.
But nothing could have prepared her for her own fight to resurface from the depths of cancer.
It was at the end of 2022 that Lisa first noticed a lump. Concerned but not alarmed, she did what many women in her position would do — she went to the doctor.
After an examination, she was reassured that it was likely due to hormonal changes associated with perimenopause. There was no reason to worry.
For the next year, Lisa carried on with her life. She had recently stepped into a management role at the Hyperbaric Centre, a job she loved. She was busy with work, her husband Barry, and the couple’s two teenage sons, Blair and Brody.
But as months passed, the lump grew — slowly at first, then alarmingly fast.
By late 2023, the lump had grown so much it pushed her arm out slightly. Even then, she hesitated — she had already been told it was nothing, so why worry?
It wasn’t until the end of the year, between Christmas and New Year, that she finally returned to the doctor. This time, there were no reassurances.
“They asked me who was with me and told me to call my husband,” she says. “That’s when I knew.”
By March 2023, the diagnosis was confirmed: breast cancer.
Lisa starts her cancer treatment
Chemotherapy began quickly. Lisa was given The Red Devil — a drug as brutal as its name. It drained her, left her sick, and came with relentless side effects.
Despite everything, Lisa was determined to carry on as much as she could.
Even during treatment, she pushed herself to return to work when she was able, desperate for normality. Sitting at home, alone with her thoughts, was worse than the treatment itself.
But it was a gruelling road.
“I had to just put my head down and get through it,” she says. “My husband couldn’t deal with it — he was worse than me. He didn’t leave my side.”
Barry, whom Lisa had been with for 26 years, became her rock. He took over responsibilities at home, making sure Lisa was cared for and managing the household alongside Blair and Brody.
Their family unit became tighter than ever.
Lisa’s friends, many of whom she had known since childhood, rallied around her. She wasn’t the type to ask for help, but they didn’t give her the choice.
They were there when she needed them, keeping her spirits up, making her laugh, and reminding her that this period would pass.
And, in the midst of it all, she and Barry made an unexpected decision.
A wedding brought forward
Lisa and Barry had always planned to marry. They had spoken about it for years, always pushing it further down the line due to life’s many interruptions.
The birth of their children, work, family commitments — there was never the right moment.
They had set a date for 2025.
But after Lisa’s diagnosis, everything changed.
“We decided to bring it forward, but not tell anyone,” she says.
And so, in April 2024, Lisa and Barry were married in secret at Kincorth’s South St Nicholas Church, where Lisa’s late grandfather, Rev Bill Wilkie, had once ministered.
Their two sons stood beside them, and Lisa’s godmother acted as a witness.
It was the wedding they had wanted — simple, meaningful and deeply personal.
A week later, at Barry’s 50th birthday party, they finally told their family and friends.
“Jaws just dropped,” Lisa recalls, laughing.
For a moment, the celebrations pushed cancer into the background. But just days later, reality returned.
Lisa received a call that her latest scan had flagged a potential problem in her head. Her chemotherapy was paused while further tests were carried out.
Uncertainty loomed over her. But in the end, the scare was just that — a scare. The irregularity was benign.
Still, it was a reminder that even when she thought she was moving forward, cancer had a way of pulling her back.
Lisa prepares to step onto the catwalk for cancer fundraiser
Lisa had completed her chemotherapy and underwent a double mastectomy. It was a decision she had insisted upon.
“I didn’t want to spend my life worrying about finding another lump,” she says. “I just wanted it done.”
She finished radiotherapy. The worst, she hoped, was behind her.
But for Lisa, sitting still was never an option. Just a few weeks after surgery, she was back at work at the National Hyperbaric Centre.
“I could have taken as much time off as I wanted,” she says. “But I just wanted to get back to normal, even if it was just for a few hours a day.”
Her colleagues were supportive, but they also worried about her pushing herself too soon.
“They kept telling me to take it easy. They thought I was mad,” she says.
“But I needed to do something. I needed to be back in the real world.”
‘Look at us, we’re still here’
Now, as she prepares to take part in Courage on the Catwalk, she sees it as a symbolic moment — a step out of the shadow of illness and into something new.
Lisa was initially hesitant about signing up for the event. But her friends encouraged her, saying she needed a moment to celebrate how far she had come.
Organised by cancer and blood disease charity Friends of Anchor, Courage on the Catwalk is an annual event where women from across the north-east who have faced cancer step onto the runway at P&J Live.
Over weeks of rehearsals, they receive coaching, fittings and styling, all aimed at building confidence before their big moment.
She will walk alongside 23 other models, and for many, the event is more than just a fundraiser, it’s a statement of resilience, strength and survival.
“It’s a way of saying, ‘Look at us. We’re still here. We got through it,'” Lisa says.
Ending Lisa’s cancer story on a high
Though Lisa is eager to move on, she knows Courage on the Catwalk won’t erase what she has been through.
But it’s also a chance to do something fun — something that has absolutely nothing to do with hospitals, scans or waiting rooms.
Rehearsals have been a mix of excitement and nerves. The models’ WhatsApp group chat is buzzing with gossip, shared worries and a common fear — falling flat on the catwalk in front of hundreds of people.
“Somebody’s already tripped over,” Lisa says, joking that if anyone’s going to end up on their backside on the night, it’ll be her.
But if the Courage show is the closing chapter of her cancer story, there are worse ways to end it than with a laugh.
Conversation