Sam Selby

13/06/2026

12/06/2026

I’ve had the privilege of being featured in this article exploring possession and spirituality in modern Malta.

For over 30 years I’ve worked as a psychic medium, and one thing I’ve learned is that the most important quality we can bring to these conversations isn’t certainty… it’s curiosity.

You don’t have to believe what I believe. You don’t have to share my experiences. But I do think there’s real value in having respectful conversations about consciousness, spirituality, healing, culture, and the many ways people make sense of the world around them.

My work has never been about fear or sensationalism. It’s about helping people navigate life, find clarity, heal, and reconnect with themselves in the present moment.

Thank you to everyone involved in creating this piece and for approaching such a fascinating topic with openness and respect.

I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts after you’ve read it. 💛

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Where to find an exorcist in Malta

10/06/2026

After everything we’ve walked through, tomorrow was supposed to be a milestone.

The final surgery. The port removal. The little piece of plastic that has delivered chemotherapy, blood tests, medications, hope, fear, and somehow become part of our everyday life for far longer than it ever should have.

And then… cancelled at the last minute.

It’s hard to explain the frustration when you’ve spent years waiting for these moments. It’s not just a postponed appointment. It’s another emotional gear change. Another time you’ve prepared yourself to close a chapter, only to be told to keep reading a few more pages.

We’ll get there. I know we will. But today, I’m allowing myself to feel disappointed. Tired. Frustrated.

Because this isn’t just about a port. It’s about everything that port represents.

When the day finally comes, I think I’ll cry just as much for what we’re leaving behind as for what’s ahead.

Until then… we wait. Again. ❤️

07/06/2026

Next week, Harvey’s port will finally be removed.

So for the next few days, we’re heading back into our little bubble of isolation, taking every precaution before surgery and protecting him from any bugs that could delay this long-awaited moment.

It feels strange knowing that this tiny piece of plastic is about to leave our lives. Over the years, it has delivered chemotherapy, blood transfusions, antibiotics, endless medications, and has spared Harvey countless needles and procedures. It became such a normal part of our reality that it’s hard to imagine life without it.

And yet, its removal marks something so much bigger than a medical procedure. It marks the closing of a chapter that has defined so much of our lives for the past three and a half years.

If I’m honest, I’m overwhelmed.

The emotions are arriving from every direction at once. Relief. Gratitude. Exhaustion. Joy. Fear. All mixed together in a way that’s difficult to explain unless you’ve lived it.

Right now, I’m not in any state to work. My focus is simply on being present, taking one moment at a time, and allowing myself to feel whatever needs to be felt.

To everyone who has messaged me, thank you. Your messages have been seen and appreciated. I will get back to each of you as soon as I can.

For now, I’m soaking in these final days before we say goodbye to a little piece of plastic that carried us through the hardest chapter of our lives.

And what a chapter it has been.

03/06/2026

One of the biggest misconceptions about having a chronic illness is that if you talk about it, you’re looking for sympathy.

I’m not.

Talking about a chronic condition should be no different to talking about needing glasses, having a bad back, or managing any other aspect of life. It’s simply part of my reality.

Some days I have more energy. Some days I have less. Some days I need to adapt, reschedule, rest, or do things differently. None of that makes me weak, broken, or someone to feel sorry for. It just means I’m human.

The more we normalise these conversations, the easier it becomes for people living with chronic conditions to participate fully in life without feeling like they have to hide their challenges or pretend everything is fine.

Life isn’t about waiting until we’re perfectly healthy, perfectly rested, or perfectly equipped. It’s about learning to adapt, finding what works for us, and continuing to live, love, create, work, laugh, and make memories along the way.

Having a chronic illness is not my entire story. It’s simply one chapter of it.

And the truth is, most people are carrying something. Some challenges are just more visible than others.

So let’s talk about these things openly. Not for pity. Not for attention. But because they’re part of real life, and real life deserves to be spoken about honestly.

27/05/2026

Harvey update 🙏🏼🎗️we are home 🏠

26/05/2026

😞

Ommu spjegat li sfortunatament Harvey għandu infezzjoni!

26/05/2026

Harvey update from pediatric oncology. Day, two part two.

26/05/2026

Harvey update day two part one from Rainbow Ward in Pediatric oncology.

25/05/2026

Harvey is feeling much perkier this evening and thankfully his fever has stayed down. The smiles, the chatter, the little bursts of energy… they feel like tiny victories every single time. 💛

Post-chemo life still comes with the “rush to hospital” panic the second a temperature appears while that port is still in place. And although I’m endlessly grateful for the care we receive, I truly cannot wait for the day we can manage these little bugs and fevers quietly at home, tucked up in our own beds, without the extra inpatient days, monitors beeping, and hospital bags permanently half-packed by the door.

But tonight feels lighter. More hopeful. One step closer to freedom, normality, and simply letting Harvey be a little boy again. ✨