So those who know me well, know I never really do things by halves. I wouldn’t like to say I’m a drama queen but I think I might have to reside myself to the fact that maybe just maybe I am?! Because when I do things I really do them properly 😳

I’m starting this blog to mainly just help me get my thoughts down. Offload a bit. I’ve started out just blogging to myself really. On the notes on my phone. And just putting my thoughts somewhere else is a big help. Maybe I will post it if I feel ready, maybe I’ll never feel ready but I’m just going to do what feels right throughout this whole process. That’s all I know what to do really. There’s no rules on how you’re supposed to deal with a brain tumour after all. 

So the beginning was some headaches, some funny sounds in my ears, blotchy vision, numbness in my legs – sometimes completely. It’d only last 2 minutes and then pass so I managed it for ages really well. I’d feel one coming on. Sit down. Let it pass. Get on with my day. But they started coming more often, sometimes up to 10 episodes per day. The GP did a few referrals and my mum and dad suggested an eye test. So off I go under parents orders to specsavers. Together between my parents and the optician, they most likely saved my life. After an urgent referral to ophthalmology who urgently referred me to medical and the neurological team, a CT and an MRI later (twinned with a fair few hours in a&e) and we finally get to the bottom of it. A large frontal lobe brain tumour, most likely cancerous. WHAT. THE. FUCK. 

Now when I tell you I freaked out. I just can’t quite describe what hearing those words does to you. I’ve never felt a feeling of such darkness, anger, confusion and just being outright terrified in a single instant.  I have  two babies. I can’t have a brain tumour. I have a husband, I’m a daughter, a friend, a sister, a colleague. I can’t do this right now, this isn’t fair. Why not when I’m older? When I’ve lived my life? I’m not finished here yet!  Not even close! 

I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do at that point after receiving that news, but as a 30 year old woman I just needed my mum. So with mum on her way I’m quite sure ripping out your cannula, running around screaming and escaping through the fire exit isn’t quite the next logical step, but anyway. I’m dramatic remember? So that’s how it went down. I even threw my sunglasses on the floor in the carpark – shattering them into a million pieces and they were my favourite ones! I mean luckily they weren’t real Prada and were about £4 but I’m still bitter about it. 

So I flee the scene. Oliver stays behind to ask some more level headed questions and follows me shortly after. Until now I haven’t really considered just how hard that news will have been for him too. For me, I’m in it, there’s nothing I can do. It’s terrifying. It’s terrible. But this doesn’t just happen to me. It shatters everyone around me too. For him, his partner of 14 years and the mother of his children is all of a sudden faced with being ripped from the family just like that with no warning. Dramatic I know, but this is where your mind goes to naturally. To the deepest darkest places you never knew existed. I can only imagine all the things running through his head that day, so to lease with doctors when I couldn’t, drive home when I couldn’t and just hold me was incredibly strong and brave and I will always remember that. My absolute rock. 

At home it’s almost time to get willow from her first day in year 3. So it’s time to have a quick cry, a quick vom, a quick scream, a long hug and a walk round the block before collecting her. Collecting her is a bit of a blur. But I know I did it. And I didn’t let on that anything was wrong, so I did what I wanted to do. And I remember her presence instantly making me feel better. It was distracting and it was comforting and it lit a fire in me that I’m not leaving her or her brother. Or anyone for that matter. I’m just not doing it. My time with them just needs to be one million times more precious now. 

My mum and dad arrived with Chester, and again it was just instant relief. I had family and support around me and at the end of the day that’s all I needed. 

After a phone call from hospital with the next steps, they organised a blue light transfer to Salford Royal neurosurgical ward. Now, I’m dramatic but I’m not that dramatic. So I excersized my right to refuse and bring my stubborn side out 😂 Because just  because I now have this brain tumour… I still know what’s best for me. I still have capacity. And I’ve learnt allllll about this in uni and work so don’t mess with this gal 😂 So I threw the book back at them and made my own way there in my own time later on that night and with my mum and dad beside me. Oll  took the babies to their swimming lesson, gave them tea and put them to bed whilst constantly checking in with me via text. Again, my rock.  The main priority through this is and always will be to protect the babies and there’s just no way I could have done that without him. 

I arrive in Salford, greeted by a gorgeous nurse and I wait for the doctors to come. We joke about her hospital corners whilst she makes my bed and I settle in, feeling a bit lighter. It’s quite surreal to see CT and MRI’s of your brain on a screen, especially when an obvious tumour is covering almost a quarter of your head 😳. We go over what it all means and what it shows with doctors who take time to let me ask questions and explain everything in full. Mum holds my hand, and dad takes off his necklace, placing it round my neck instead. It will protect me. We go over next steps which is steroids to reduce the swelling in the brain, anti seizure medication, more scans to check for more tumours in the rest of my body and a casual bit of brain surgery. At this point I’m rolling with the punches after the day I’ve had. Hit me with it all. I’m invincible now. You don’t scare me! 

The neurologist explains that it’s impossible to know what the tumour is until it’s removed during surgery and sent for testing. I take positivity from that – maybe they got this all wrong and it’s benign?! This can’t be me they’re talking about – I’m fit and well … I feel fine the vast majority of the time! It’s got to be a mistake. I don’t look like any of these other patients on my ward who are suffering similar things. I’m way younger, way fitter. For once in my life I’m the thinnest, youngest l, most fit and well person in the room and I’ll take that! I’m under strict instructions not to catastrophise at this point and to stay positive so that’s where I am now. Someone will come and wake me up from this bad dream soon, I’m sure. And I’ll go back to mum and midwife life like nothing ever happened. 

Chester starting nursery will have to wait for now as he’s supposed to start tomorrow! But the time will come when both his mummy and daddy can be there to witness it together. There is no rush, especially not now ❤️

If you care for an insight into this journey, please follow along for the ride in these blogs and to see me smash this tumour out of the water (or at least out of my head). I’m sure not every one will be positive, but we will try and make light of the situation and focus on the good parts for most of the time.

I cannot even stress enough how all the support I have rallying around me is helping keep my positivity up. From my family, my friends and my work family, I feel each arm reaching out in every message. I may not reply,  but I read and appreciate everything. Please keep them coming, even if they’re just thoughts and not physical messages❤️