Kayla first tried fentanyl as a troubled 18-year-old, growing up in the US state of North Carolina.

"I felt like literally amazing. The voices in my head just completely went silent. I got instantly addicted," she remembers.

The little blue pills Kayla became hooked on were probably made in Mexico, and then smuggled across the border to the US - a deadly trade President Donald Trump is trying to crack down on.

But drug cartels aren't pharmacists. So, Kayla never knew how much fentanyl was in the pill she was taking. Would there be enough of the synthetic opioid to kill her?

"It's scary to think about that," Kayla says, reflecting on how she could have overdosed and died at any moment.

In 2023, there were over 110,000 drug-related deaths in the US. The march of fentanyl, which is 50 times more potent than heroin, seemed unstoppable.

But then came a staggering turnaround.

In 2024, the number of fatal overdoses across the US fell by around 25%. That's nearly 30,000 fewer deaths – dozens of lives saved every day. Kayla's state, North Carolina, is at the forefront of that trend.

Why fatal overdoses have fallen so sharply

One of the explanations is a commitment to harm reduction. This means promoting policies that prioritise drug users' health and wellbeing rather than criminalising people - a recognition that in an era of fentanyl, drug-taking too often ends with death by overdose.

In North Carolina, where Kayla still lives, and where overdose fatalities are currently down by an impressive 35%, harm reduction strategies are well-developed.

Kayla no longer takes street drugs. And she's a client of an innovative law enforcement assisted diversion (LEAD) programme in Fayetteville. It's a partnership between the town's police and the North Carolina Harm Reduction Coalition. Together, they work to divert substance users away from crime, and get them on the road to recovery.

"If someone's stealing from a grocery store, we run their criminal history. And often we see that the crimes they're committing appear to fund the addiction they have," says Lt Jamaal Littlejohn.

This might make them a candidate for the LEAD programme, meaning they can get support to tackle their addiction, and can start thinking about secure housing and employment.

The proponents of LEAD say it isn't about being soft on crime. Drug dealers still go to prison in Fayetteville. "But if we can get people the services they need, it gives law enforcement more time to deal with bigger crimes," argues Lt Littlejohn, who watched his own sister struggle with a substance use disorder.

• Listen to Assignment: Drugs, Overdose, Hope on The Documentary Podcast on the BBC World Service

Kayla has blossomed. She's such a long way now from the days when she used prostitution to fund her fentanyl habit. As part of the LEAD process, her criminal record has been wiped. She recently graduated as a certified nurse assistant, and is now working in a residential home.

"It's like the best thing ever. This is the longest time I've been clean," she says.

Critical to Kayla's recovery has been treatment. She's been taking methadone for nearly a year when she tells her story to the BBC. "It's keeping me from going back," she believes.

Methadone and buprenorphine are medications used to treat opioid use disorder. They stem cravings and stop painful withdrawal. Nationwide, treatment has played a role in puncturing the overdose fatality statistics.

In North Carolina, it's been a game-changer: more than 30,000 people were enrolled in a programme in 2024, with numbers climbing in 2025.

'You're still playing Russian roulette, but your odds improve'

At 09:00 at one of the Morse Clinics in the state capital of Raleigh, two or three people wait their turn in reception.

"The busiest time is 5.30am to 7am, so before work," says Dr Eric Morse, an addiction psychiatrist running nine clinics offering medication assisted treatment (MAT) in North Carolina. "Most of our folks are working - once they're sober, they show up to work on time every day."

The clinic runs a finely-tuned operation. After patients check in, they're called to a dosing window to receive their prescription. They're in and out in minutes.

They'll randomly be drug tested for illicit narcotics. Dr Morse says around half his patients are still testing positive for opioids bought on the street, but he doesn't see this as failure.

"Maybe you're using once a week and you're used to using three times a day… You're still playing Russian roulette with fentanyl but you've taken a whole bunch of bullets out of the chamber, so your survival rate goes up significantly," says Dr Morse.

This is harm reduction. So rather than be expelled from the treatment programme, patients who get a positive drug test are given extra support and counselling. Dr Morse says 80-90% will eventually stop using street drugs altogether. And in time, many will taper off their medication too.

The abstinence debate

Not everyone thinks this is the right approach.

Mark Pless is a Republican who sits in North Carolina's state House of Representatives, and used to be a full-time paramedic. He points out that illegal drug-taking starts with a choice.

And he doesn't believe in harm reduction. In particular he's against treating opioid use disorder with medications like methadone or buprenorphine.

"You're replacing an addictive product with another addictive product," he says. "If you have to take it in order to stay clean, it's still addictive. We've got to figure out how to get people to where they can do better – we can't leave them on drugs forever."

He favours abstinence treatment programmes, when drug users go "cold turkey".

But there's pushback from health professionals in North Carolina.

"I believe there are multiple paths to recovery," says Dr Morse. "I'm not pooh-poohing abstinence-based treatment - except when you look at the medical evidence."

Dr Morse references a Yale University study from 2023 analysing the risk of death for opioid users in a treatment programme compared to people not in treatment. The study suggested that someone in abstinence treatment was as likely - or more more likely - to have a fatal overdose as a person who wasn't in treatment and was continuing to use street opioids like fentanyl.

• How does fentanyl get into the US?

Treatment aside, another drug is helping.

Naloxone is widely available, and used as a nasal spray it reverses the effect of an opioid overdose, helping someone breathe again. In North Carolina in 2024, it was administered more than 16,000 times. That's potentially 16,000 lives saved – and these are only the overdose reversals that have been reported.

"This is as close to a miracle drug as we can ever imagine," says Dr Nabarun Dasgupta, a scientist specialising in street drugs at the University of North Carolina.

Many users of narcotics like cocaine, methamphetamine and heroin want to know that what they're taking won't kill them. Some people use test-strips to check for fentanyl, because they know it's been implicated in so many fatal overdoses.

But the strips don't identify all potentially harmful substances. Dr Dasgupta runs a national drugs-testing laboratory. Users send him a tiny bit of their drug supply via local non-profit organisations.

"We've analysed close to 14,000 samples from 43 states over the last three years," he says.

A generational shift

Testing drugs for potentially dangerous additives is an additional weapon in the harm reduction armoury. Dr Dasgupta believes another reason for decreasing overdose fatalities in the US is that young people are avoiding opioids like fentanyl.

"We see a demographic shift. Generation Z are dying of overdose much less frequently than their parents or their grandparents' generations were at the same age," he says.

Dr Dasgupta isn't entirely surprised 20-somethings are steering clear of opioids. A shocking four out of 10 American adults know someone whose life has been ended by an overdose.

It was this epidemic of death, set in train in the 1990s by prescription opioids, that motivated North Carolina's former attorney general - now the state governor - to move against powerful corporations benefitting from so many Americans' dark spiral down into addiction.

Josh Stein picked up the phone to his counterparts in other states, and took a leading role in co-ordinating legal action against opioid manufacturers, distributors and retailers.

"There was a Republican attorney general in Tennessee, I'm Democrat in North Carolina… But we're all caring about our people and we're all willing to fight for them," Stein reflects.

The upshot, after years of intense negotiations, was an Opioid Settlement totalling some $60bn (£45bn). This is money that huge companies have agreed to pay to US states, to be used for the "abatement of the opioid epidemic". North Carolina's share is around $1.5bn.

"It has to be spent in four ways – drug prevention, treatment, recovery, or harm reduction. I think it's transformative," says Governor Stein.

Meanwhile, funding from the national government is uncertain. The cuts to Medicaid included in President Trump's One Big, Beautiful Bill Act could have a tremendous impact on this area.

In the Morse Clinics in Raleigh, 70% of patients depend on Medicaid. If they lose health insurance, will they end treatment and become more vulnerable to death by overdose? Although North Carolina's drug fatality statistics look optimistic, thousands of people are still dying - and the state's black, indigenous and non-white populations haven't experienced the same rates of decrease.

And there remain other states that have witnessed a stubbornly slower rate of decrease in lethal overdoses - including Nevada and Arizona.

No one is complacent. Least of all Kayla.

In the grip of fentanyl for three long years, she never overdosed herself, but she did have to save her friends. Kayla's parents didn't know what to do with her.

"They kind of gave up on me - they thought I was gonna be dead," she remembers.

Kayla credits Charlton Roberson, her harm reduction mentor, as being instrumental in her recovery. Her aim now is to taper off methadone and become medication- and drug-free. She also wants to find a job in a hospital.

"I feel more alive than I ever did when I was using fentanyl," she says.

If you've been affected by the issues in this story, help and support is available via the BBC Action Line.

There are not many sports that can keep an audience enraptured through 45 minutes of ceremony before the first point is even contested.

And yet, the intricate traditions unfolding in a small clay ring - virtually unchanged in hundreds of years - managed to do just that.

Welcome, then, to the Grand Sumo Tournament - a five-day event at the Royal Albert Hall featuring 40 of the very best sumo wrestlers showcasing a sport which can date its first mention back to 23BC.

London's Victorian concert venue has been utterly transformed, complete with six-tonne Japanese temple roof suspended above the ring.

It is here the wrestlers, known as rikishi, will perform their leg stomps to drive away evil spirits, and where they will clap to get the attention of the gods.

And above all this ancient ceremony, a giant, revolving LED screen which wouldn't look out of place at an American basketball game, offering the audience all the stats and replays they could want.

Sumo may be ancient, and may have strict rules governing every aspect of a rikishi's conduct, but it still exists in a modern world.

And that modern world is helping spread sumo far beyond Japan's borders.

It was a "random video" which first caught Sian Spencer's attention a couple of years ago.

This was quickly followed by the discovery of dedicated YouTube channels for a couple of the sumo stables, where rikishi live and train, waking up early to practice, followed by a high protein stew called a chankonabe, and then an afternoon nap - all in the service of bulking up.

Then she discovered the bi-monthly, 15 day championships, known as basho, and from there, she was hooked.

The London tournament was simply a "once-in-a-lifetime", not-to-be-missed, opportunity to see it all in real life, the 35-year-old says.

Julia and her partner Cezar, who live in Edinburgh, discovered sumo through a more traditional route: a trip to Japan six years ago.

"We saw it as a very touristy activity, but we actually ended up loving the sport," says Julia, 34.

"From there on, we tried to find communities, information, just to learn more and more about it," Cezar, 36, adds.

Colleagues, friends and family, they found, could be quite taken aback by their new passion.

"It's the only sport we watch," explains Julia - so they found like-minded people on messaging apps like Telegram.

"We found Italian groups, English groups," says Julia.

"Outside of Japan, online is the only way to interact with the sport," adds Cezar.

Going to Japan is almost the only way to see a top-flight sumo tournament.

This week's event in London is only the second time the tournament has visited the city - the first time was in 1991 - while the last overseas trip was to Jakarta in 2013.

But even going to Japan isn't a guarantee of getting a seat. Last year was the first time in 24 years that all six of the bi-monthly, 15-day events had sold out in 28 years, Kyodo News reported - fueled by interest at home, and by the tourist boom which saw more than 36m foreigners visit in 2024.

So for many, the London tournament is the first time they have watched sumo in person - and it doesn't disapoint.

"Seeing it up close, you get a sense of the speed and the power which you don't get on TV. It was incredible," says Caspar Eliot, a 36-year-old fan from London. "They are so big."

To win, one man needs to push another out of the ring or to the ground using brute strength. The majority use one of two styles to achieve this, often in split seconds - pushing, or grappling.

Either way, the sound of the two rikishi colliding in the first moment of the match reverberates around the hall.

Caspar and his wife Megha Okhai had been among those lucky enough to get tickets when they visited Japan last year - only for them not to arrive in the post in time.

It didn't stop them falling head over heels, however, and they have watched every basho this year. So when it came to the London Grand Sumo Tournament, they weren't taking chances.

"I think we had four devices trying to book tickets," Caspar tells the BBC ahead of the event, displaying his sumo towels proudly - a must for diehard fans. "We got front row seats, on the cushions."

The cushions right next to the ring are of course highly prized - but also, a bit risky.

On Thursday, it was all 181kg and 191cm of Shonannoumi which went plummeting into the crowd - perhaps making those in the slightly cheaper seats breathe a sigh of relief.

Of course, the size of the rikishi is one of the first things most people think of when they think of sumo. The Albert Hall's director of programming revealed to The Guardian earlier this week that they "had to source and buy new chairs which can take up to 200kg in weight".

But sumo - for all its sell-out events - is not without its troubles behind the scenes. A series of scandals over the last couple of decades around bullying, match fixing and sexism have dented its image.

And then there is the fact that last year - while being a bumper one for ticket sales - saw the lowest number of new recruits joining the stables.

Perhaps the strict life of a rikishi doesn't look as appealing as it once might have. Its popularity among young Japanese is also being threatened by other sports, like baseball. As Thomas Fabbri, the BBC's resident sumo fan, said: "My Japanese friends think I'm mad, as they see it as a sport for old people."

Japan's falling birthrate will also not help - nor is the Japanese Sumo Association's rule which restricts each stable to just one foreign rikishi. Despite this, Mongolians have dominated for the past few years - and one of the most exciting rising stars hails from Ukraine.

Not that any of this has worried fans in London.

"Seeing all this ritual and ceremony that goes with sumo is quite special," fan Sian says. "Now, seeing it in person, you feel like you are more part of it."

Julia and Cesar agree in a message the next day.

"It's a Japanese sport but we didn't feel out of place, so many people from all around the world around us."

For Megha, the drama "made it so incredible" - as did meeting the other fans.

"Getting out of a very niche Reddit community and being able to see all these sumo fans in person and being able to chat with other people who are just as into this as we are - it was worth every penny of sumo gold."

Additonal reporting by Thomas Fabbri

Want to watch? Audiences can tune in via BBC iPlayer, the BBC Red Button, the BBC Sport website and app.

A historic Clydebuilt sailing ship has been towed out to sea off the coast of Hawaii and deliberately sunk, prompting outrage from maritime conservation groups.

Falls of Clyde, built in 1878, had been moored as a museum ship in Honolulu since the 1960s but had fallen into a poor state of repair.

The Honolulu Harbour Board confirmed it had the ship towed into deep water about 25 miles offshore on Wednesday and then scuttled.

The news has been met with anger and dismay by campaigners who have spent more than a decade trying to bring the ship back to its birthplace to rebuild it.

Falls of Clyde was the first in a series of eight iron-hulled ships built in the late 19th Century by the Port Glasgow shipbuilder Russell & Co.

The ship spent many years carrying various cargoes to and from the Far East and Australasia before moving to Hawaii.

In the early 20th Century it had steel tanks fitted and was converted into a tanker to carry paraffin to the islands, where it later became a floating fuel depot before being acquired by a museum in Honolulu.

But the ship was badly damaged by a hurricane in the 1980s, the maritime section of the museum closed down and for years it has been left slowly decaying.

Enthusiasts in Scotland have spent a decade trying to bring the ship home for restoration, but were unable to reach an agreement with the harbour board which wants to redevelop the quay where it was moored.

The Hawaii Department of Transportation said the operation to remove the ship began at dawn on Wednesday and it was sunk about 25 miles south of the harbour.

It said the vessel's name, wheel and bell were retained along with other artifacts which will be put on display.

'A day that will go down in infamy'

The destruction of the historic ship has been widely criticised by maritime conservation groups both in the UK and the USA.

Friends of Falls of Clyde, a group of supporters in Hawaii, described it as "a day that will go down in infamy".

"It is almost inconceivable that this situation has been allowed to happen," the group posted on social media.

The group organised a farewell ceremony with bagpipers on Tuesday after learning that the ship was to be sunk the following morning.

The Tall Ship Glenlee, the charity that looks after another Clydebuilt sailing vessel moored beside Glasgow's Riverside Museum, said it was "deeply saddened".

David O'Neill, from the Scotland based Save Falls of Clyde campaign, said he was "horrified" at the behaviour of the authorities in Hawaii but had become resigned to the ship meeting such a fate after years of fruitless negotiation.

He first became involved in efforts to rescue the ship in 2015 when someone in Hawaii alerted him to its condition, prompting him to post an appeal on social media saying: "Old Scottish lady needs a lift home."

A Norwegian firm which operates heavy lift ships offered to transport Falls of Clyde back to Scotland for free, but the campaign was soon embroiled in a wrangle with the harbour board over insurance costs and other conditions.

Earlier this year Mr O'Neill said an American firm won a contract to remove the ship from the harbour and it also offered to transport it to Scotland for free.

"They didn't want to sink the ship - they had a conscience and a respect for maritime heritage," he said.

But the deal between the firm and the harbour board fell through, and the contract went instead to another company which then carried out the scuttling.

The Hawaii Department of Transportation has been contacted for comment.

Mr O'Neill said he had seen a video showing the final moments of Falls of Clyde.

"She was towed out of harbour looking really elegant and stunning for a 147-year-old ship, unaided, not needing any pumps," he said.

"She was still afloat and for us that's representative that she was truly Clydebuilt."

He said he found watching the ship go down "quite disturbing".

"She goes down by the stern and most of the ship lifts out of the water, like in the Titanic movie."

The businessman is now concentrating his efforts on trying to bring home a Clydebuilt ship from a different era - the Type 21 frigate HMS Ambuscade.

The warship was built for the Royal Navy at the Yarrow shipyard in Glasgow in the 1970s, and saw action in the Falklands War.

It later sold to the Pakistan Navy where it served until it was decommissioned two years ago.

Mr O'Neill said he secured the frigate for free after making a "cheeky request" to the Pakistani government, and he is working on plans to return it to the Clyde to become a museum ship.

A blood test for more than 50 types of cancer could help speed up diagnosis according to a new study.

Results of a trial in north America show that the test was able to identify a wide range of cancers, of which three quarters don't have any form of screening programme.

More than half the cancers were detected at an early stage, where they are easier to treat and potentially curable.

The Galleri test, made by American pharmaceutical firm Grail, can detect fragments of cancerous DNA that have broken off a tumour and are circulating in the blood.

Impressive results

The trial followed 25,000 adults from the US and Canada over a year.

Nearly one in a 100 of those tested had a positive result and in 62% of these cancer was later confirmed.

The test correctly ruled out cancer in over 99% of those who tested negative.

When combined with breast, bowel and cervical screening it increased the number of cancers detected overall seven-fold.

Crucially, three quarters of cancers detected were for those which have no screening programme such as ovarian, liver, stomach bladder and pancreas.

The blood test correctly identified the origin of the cancer in 9 out of 10 cases.

These impressive results suggest the blood test could eventually have a major role to play in diagnosing cancer earlier.

Scientists not involved in the research say more evidence is needed to show whether the blood test reduces deaths from cancer.

The topline results are to be released at the European Society for Medical Oncology congress in Berlin, but the full details have yet to be published in a peer reviewed journal.

Much will depend on the results of a three-year trial involving 140,000 NHS patients in England, which will be published next year.

The NHS has previously said that if the results are successful, it would extend the tests to a further one million people.

The lead researcher, Dr Nima Nabavizadeh, Associate Professor of Radiation Medicine at Oregon Health & Science University said the latest data show that the test could "fundamentally change our approach to cancer screening, helping to detect many types of cancer earlier, when the chance of successful treatment or even cure are the greatest".

But Clare Turnbull, Professor of Translational Cancer Genetics at The Institute of Cancer Research, London, said: "Data from randomised studies, with mortality as an endpoint, will be absolutely essential to establish whether seemingly earlier-stage detection by Galleri translates into benefits in mortality."

Sir Harpal Kumar, President of Biopharma at Grail, told the BBC: "We think these results are very compelling. The opportunity in front of us is that we can find many more cancers - and many of the more aggressive cancers - at a much earlier stage when we have more effective and potentially curative treatments."

Naser Turabi of Cancer Research UK said: "Further research is needed to avoid overdiagnosing cancers that may not have caused harm. The UK National Screening Committee will play a critical role in reviewing the evidence and determining whether these tests should be adopted by the NHS."

There are not many sports that can keep an audience enraptured through 45 minutes of ceremony before the first point is even contested.

And yet, the intricate traditions unfolding in a small clay ring - virtually unchanged in hundreds of years - managed to do just that.

Welcome, then, to the Grand Sumo Tournament - a five-day event at the Royal Albert Hall featuring 40 of the very best sumo wrestlers showcasing a sport which can date its first mention back to 23BC.

London's Victorian concert venue has been utterly transformed, complete with six-tonne Japanese temple roof suspended above the ring.

It is here the wrestlers, known as rikishi, will perform their leg stomps to drive away evil spirits, and where they will clap to get the attention of the gods.

And above all this ancient ceremony, a giant, revolving LED screen which wouldn't look out of place at an American basketball game, offering the audience all the stats and replays they could want.

Sumo may be ancient, and may have strict rules governing every aspect of a rikishi's conduct, but it still exists in a modern world.

And that modern world is helping spread sumo far beyond Japan's borders.

It was a "random video" which first caught Sian Spencer's attention a couple of years ago.

This was quickly followed by the discovery of dedicated YouTube channels for a couple of the sumo stables, where rikishi live and train, waking up early to practice, followed by a high protein stew called a chankonabe, and then an afternoon nap - all in the service of bulking up.

Then she discovered the bi-monthly, 15 day championships, known as basho, and from there, she was hooked.

The London tournament was simply a "once-in-a-lifetime", not-to-be-missed, opportunity to see it all in real life, the 35-year-old says.

Julia and her partner Cezar, who live in Edinburgh, discovered sumo through a more traditional route: a trip to Japan six years ago.

"We saw it as a very touristy activity, but we actually ended up loving the sport," says Julia, 34.

"From there on, we tried to find communities, information, just to learn more and more about it," Cezar, 36, adds.

Colleagues, friends and family, they found, could be quite taken aback by their new passion.

"It's the only sport we watch," explains Julia - so they found like-minded people on messaging apps like Telegram.

"We found Italian groups, English groups," says Julia.

"Outside of Japan, online is the only way to interact with the sport," adds Cezar.

Going to Japan is almost the only way to see a top-flight sumo tournament.

This week's event in London is only the second time the tournament has visited the city - the first time was in 1991 - while the last overseas trip was to Jakarta in 2013.

But even going to Japan isn't a guarantee of getting a seat. Last year was the first time in 24 years that all six of the bi-monthly, 15-day events had sold out in 28 years, Kyodo News reported - fueled by interest at home, and by the tourist boom which saw more than 36m foreigners visit in 2024.

So for many, the London tournament is the first time they have watched sumo in person - and it doesn't disapoint.

"Seeing it up close, you get a sense of the speed and the power which you don't get on TV. It was incredible," says Caspar Eliot, a 36-year-old fan from London. "They are so big."

To win, one man needs to push another out of the ring or to the ground using brute strength. The majority use one of two styles to achieve this, often in split seconds - pushing, or grappling.

Either way, the sound of the two rikishi colliding in the first moment of the match reverberates around the hall.

Caspar and his wife Megha Okhai had been among those lucky enough to get tickets when they visited Japan last year - only for them not to arrive in the post in time.

It didn't stop them falling head over heels, however, and they have watched every basho this year. So when it came to the London Grand Sumo Tournament, they weren't taking chances.

"I think we had four devices trying to book tickets," Caspar tells the BBC ahead of the event, displaying his sumo towels proudly - a must for diehard fans. "We got front row seats, on the cushions."

The cushions right next to the ring are of course highly prized - but also, a bit risky.

On Thursday, it was all 181kg and 191cm of Shonannoumi which went plummeting into the crowd - perhaps making those in the slightly cheaper seats breathe a sigh of relief.

Of course, the size of the rikishi is one of the first things most people think of when they think of sumo. The Albert Hall's director of programming revealed to The Guardian earlier this week that they "had to source and buy new chairs which can take up to 200kg in weight".

But sumo - for all its sell-out events - is not without its troubles behind the scenes. A series of scandals over the last couple of decades around bullying, match fixing and sexism have dented its image.

And then there is the fact that last year - while being a bumper one for ticket sales - saw the lowest number of new recruits joining the stables.

Perhaps the strict life of a rikishi doesn't look as appealing as it once might have. Its popularity among young Japanese is also being threatened by other sports, like baseball. As Thomas Fabbri, the BBC's resident sumo fan, said: "My Japanese friends think I'm mad, as they see it as a sport for old people."

Japan's falling birthrate will also not help - nor is the Japanese Sumo Association's rule which restricts each stable to just one foreign rikishi. Despite this, Mongolians have dominated for the past few years - and one of the most exciting rising stars hails from Ukraine.

Not that any of this has worried fans in London.

"Seeing all this ritual and ceremony that goes with sumo is quite special," fan Sian says. "Now, seeing it in person, you feel like you are more part of it."

Julia and Cesar agree in a message the next day.

"It's a Japanese sport but we didn't feel out of place, so many people from all around the world around us."

For Megha, the drama "made it so incredible" - as did meeting the other fans.

"Getting out of a very niche Reddit community and being able to see all these sumo fans in person and being able to chat with other people who are just as into this as we are - it was worth every penny of sumo gold."

Additonal reporting by Thomas Fabbri

Want to watch? Audiences can tune in via BBC iPlayer, the BBC Red Button, the BBC Sport website and app.

When Charlotte Morjaria headed for a weekend at Butlin's with her two best friends, she had no idea it would save her life.

On the last day of their girls' trip in June, the group befriended a stag party and were playing games, running around outside their accommodation and "being silly".

"Probably a tad too much drinking, albeit we were having a fantastic time before disaster struck - or you could call it a miracle," Charlotte, 31, said.

When one of the men scooped her up over his shoulder during a game of tag, she heard something "go pop" but put it out of her mind and carried on enjoying her evening.

When she was still in pain after returning home to Newport from the holiday park in Minehead, Somerset, she went to A&E thinking she had broken a rib.

But a CT scan done to check for any internal damage revealed a "sizeable" cancerous tumour on her kidney that she had no idea even existed.

"In that moment, it was probably the most scared I've ever been in my life," she said.

Charlotte sat in the hospital A&E waiting room for 22 hours and nearly left several times.

"I've just come back from Butlin's, I'm absolutely done in, I don't want to be sat in a waiting room alone, falling in and out of consciousness," she recalled.

"I'm sat there with what I suspect is a bruised rib... I felt like a bit of a fraud."

Then, "out of nowhere" her mum, followed by one of her friends, arrived to keep her company and persuaded her to stay.

When she was seen, doctors ordered the scan and Charlotte was told her rib was OK but said the medics around her did not have "the faces of people who are just going to say you're fine".

"They said they'd found a sizeable mass on my left kidney."

"Still slightly hungover and in a daze", she was told the 7cm (2.5in) tumour was being treated as cancer and was sent straight from The Grange Hospital to nearby Royal Gwent Hospital in her hometown.

Charlotte said dozens of questions "flood your brain" including how a tumour this size was missed.

"The conversation was a strange one, because I thought I was fine. There really weren't very big tell-tale signs."

She explained there were a lot of factors which hid her symptoms of weight loss, chronic fatigue and back pain, and she enjoyed an active lifestyle, going to dance classes and swimming regularly.

Having previously struggled with disordered eating, she had been taking the weight loss medication Mounjaro in 2024, but stopped when it appeared to be making her unwell.

She also has depression, for which she takes medication, and put the "normal aches and pains" down to running around after her "absolutely crazy" two-year-old son Sebastian.

"The doctors were astounded, not only by the fact I was this young, healthy woman, but the fact that, on the surface, I'd had no idea," she added.

Charlotte was diagnosed with stage one TFE3 renal cell carcinoma - a rare form of kidney cancer.

In August, the day before her 31st birthday, she had surgery to have her kidney removed.

"[My consultant] had only heard of one case, it is rare. They didn't have a lot of information," she said.

"Thankfully it hadn't spread... but they still needed to get it out pretty quickly."

In September, Charlotte was told she was cancer free, but needs regular scans for the rest of her life as she is deemed high risk.

"The reality of it is, every six months I'm going to be scared. I'm going to be a mess. I'm cancer free, but I'm not free of cancer."

She said she felt lucky to have a "brilliant life" with her husband Ben and their son, but adjusting to her new reality had been hard.

"Even though I haven't lost my hair, even though I'm seemingly well... it's taken its toll."

She asked the doctors about lifestyle changes but was told "there was no rhyme or reason" for her tumour and to "be sensible" - eating healthily and not drinking too much alcohol.

"It's a silly story, it's a laugh and I'm happy people have a giggle. You walk into a room and you say the c-word, it makes people feel uncomfortable, it's often awkward to talk about.

"But I want it to raise awareness... an adult Butlin's weekender did indeed save my life."

Every week it seems US financial markets are hit by another bout of fear.

The latest worries spread this week from the banking sector in the US, after two regional lenders warned they would be hit by losses from alleged fraud.

But before that, markets swooned over signs of rekindled US-China tensions, as the two superpowers face off over tariffs, advanced technology and access to rare earths.

The bankruptcies of car parts supplier First Brands and subprime car lender Tricolor acted as a trigger for nervous chatter in September.

Over the last month, US shares, which had been climbing since their tariff-induced rout in April, have flattened.

But in many ways the market swings so far - down roughly 3% at the steepest - are not unusual.

Zooming out, the major indexes have still posted gains since the start of the year, with the S&P 500 up roughly 13%. That's smaller than 2024 but still solid.

"The market has done surprisingly well so far this year ... driven by an improvement in corporate profits and the enthusiasm surrounding AI," says Sam Stovall, chief investment strategist at CFRA Research.

The resilience of the stock market is, ironically, exactly what is driving some of the jitters.

Put simply, when set against other standard metrics like profits, share prices in the US are very high.

Meanwhile, concerns about a possible bubble emerging in the artificial intelligence (AI) industry have generated a steady undercurrent of talk since the start of the year - discussions that have ramped up as analysts struggle to see how the vast sums of money the biggest players are throwing at one another all fit together.

The Bank of England warned recently of "stretched valuations" and rising risk of a "sharp market correction".

Those concerns were echoed in remarks from JP Morgan Chase boss Jamie Dimon and to some extent US central bank chair Jerome Powell.

The International Monetary Fund was the latest to chime in this week.

"Markets appear complacent as the ground shifts," it said in its financial stability report, which noted risks from trade tensions, geopolitical uncertainty and rising sovereign indebtedness.

James Reilley, senior markets economist at Capital Economics, said the market falls triggered by the regional banks were a sign of investors alert to risk and moving quickly to reduce exposure amid uncertainty about whether the losses were indicative of wider issues.

But he said the brief nature of the drops showed how quickly such worries could clear.

Many investors remain optimistic, with analysts at firms such as Goldman Sachs and Wells Fargo in recent weeks boosting their forecasts for where the S&P 500 might climb by the end of the year.

David Lefkowitz, head of US equities at UBS Global Wealth Management, said he thought a sharp sell-off was unlikely at a time when growth in the US remains solid and the US central bank is lowering borrowing costs.

He is expecting the S&P 500 to end the year hovering around 6,900 points, about 4% higher than where it sits on Friday.

While he acknowledged the troubles popping up at banks, he noted that the lenders involved have alleged fraud.

He said the overall picture, when looking at default levels, appears healthy, and he saw little risk that demand for AI would suddenly decline, puncturing valuations.

"I'm not saying we're in a bubble. I'm not saying we're not in a bubble. The question is what's going to drive the downside," he said. "Things don't usually spontaneously decline."

A typical bull market - when shares are rising - lasts about four and a half years, said Mr Stovall.

With inflation still sticky, and investors wary of events in Washington, like the government shutdown and Trump administration's efforts to influence the US central bank, this year's market rally has been "unloved", said Mr Stovall.

On the other hand, he noted: "It's just a matter of time. Corrections and bear markets have not been repealed. They might simply be delayed."