Our Lives
As I faced a terrifying ordeal that threatened to take me away from my family, I penned my baby son a special letter.
Flopping exhausted in to my bed, I was relieved to be having an early night. ‘I’m shattered,’ I told my husband Neil.
We’d spent the day recovering after seeing in the new year with friends and family.
But a few hours later, I woke suddenly with an excruciating headache.
After fetching a cool flannel for my forehead, I managed to drift off again.
The next thing I knew, I was coming round in a room I’d never seen before.
My mum Pauline was there with Neil and his parents. They all looked strained and anxious.
‘You’re in hospital, sweetheart,’ Neil said gently. ‘You had three seizures in the middle of the night so I called an ambulance. You’ve been out of it for about three days.’
Through a haze of medication, I struggled to take it in.
‘They say you’ve either got meningitis or a brain tumour,’ Neil added.
I was 25 and had gone to bed fit and healthy. How could this have happened?
The next day, doctors arrived and said: ‘I’m afraid you have a brain tumour called a oligodendroglioma.’
Neil and I looked at each other, shocked.
We’d only been married nine months, but here was the first test of our vows — in sickness and in health.
Thankfully, the doctor said the tumour was benign and slow-growing. He was optimistic that it could be removed.
I had the operation a few weeks later and, when I came round, there was good news.
‘We’ve removed 95 per cent of the tumour,’ the surgeon told me. ‘The small bit left was too near the part of the brain which controls your eyesight. We’re hoping it doesn’t grow back.’
Back home, Neil and I did our best to put what had happened behind us, and our thoughts turned to starting a family.
‘I feel very well and there doesn’t seem to be a reason not to,’ I said.
To our delight, I soon fell pregnant.
It was December, so I got some special gifts made for Mum and Neil’s parents. And on Christmas Day, they all unwrapped little plaques I’d had inscribed for them announcing our good news.
Mum’s read: Only the best mum gets promoted to Nanna.
And the one for Neil’s parents was similar.
It took a few seconds for the penny to drop, but when it did, there were hugs and tears all round.
My pregnancy went smoothly and when our beautiful baby boy Spencer was born, life felt joyous.
But just before Spencer turned one, I went for one of my regular brain scans and the results were devastating.
‘The tumour has grown back,’ explained the doctor.
I hadn’t had any symptoms, so it was a t
