March 4th 2024.
As I sat by my father's bedside, watching cancer slowly consume him, my mind was filled with questions. But one question in particular kept nagging at me, "How much time do I have left?" It was a question I desperately wanted an answer to, but one that no one could give me.
There was a moment during my father's final days that will forever be etched in my memory. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, but suddenly he sat up and pointed at me without saying a word. A few seconds later, he fell back onto his pillow and slipped back into sleep. It was a moment that left me wondering what he was trying to tell me. Was he trying to say that my older siblings should take care of me because I was the youngest? Or was it something more ominous?
After 15 long hours in the emergency room, my father passed away. And just two weeks later, at the age of 21, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It may sound farfetched, but I couldn't help but wonder if my father somehow knew about my condition before anyone else did. In my darkest moments, I even found myself blaming him for passing on his cancer to me.
My mother could see the pain I was in and urged me to see a doctor. It was August of 2018 when my father first sat me down and told me he had colon cancer. He was a man of few words and didn't want to burden his four children with worry. But as his condition worsened, it was impossible to hide the toll it was taking on him.
On April 18th, my uncle called to tell us that my father was in the emergency room and wouldn't be around for much longer. We rushed to his side, but it was too late. He was in so much pain that he had to be heavily sedated. He passed away in the early hours of the next day, surrounded by his loved ones. It was his birthday just a few days later and we gathered to celebrate his life. But a week after that, we were clearing out his house in preparation for his funeral.
That's when the severe migraines began. At first, my brothers thought I was just joking around, but the pain was intense and unlike anything I had ever felt before. Even though I hated going to the doctor, my mother could see how much I was suffering and urged me to seek medical attention.
This year, I have been supporting Young Lives vs Cancer as part of their 2024 Lifeline campaign. To raise funds for this incredible organization, we are organizing a hike along the beautiful Jurassic Coast on May 18th. You can choose to do either a 25km or 58km hike, with registration starting at just £15. Whether you go as a group or as an individual, Team Lifeline will provide you with support and guidance every step of the way. Every step you take will make a difference in the lives of young cancer patients.
The doctor initially suggested that my migraines were caused by stress from losing my father. But when the migraines persisted and became worse, I went back to the doctor. They recommended that I go to the emergency room for scans. I was filled with panic and had no idea what to do.
I was only 21 years old when my mother and great aunt took me to the hospital. But as we approached the doors, I suddenly felt weak in the legs and told my mother that I thought I was going to collapse. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, numb on one side of my body. I was terrified and didn't know what was happening.
Doctors immediately ordered a CT scan and the same day, they found a mass on my brain in the pituitary gland. I didn't fully understand what this meant, but I knew it couldn't be good. I couldn't believe it could be cancer, especially at such a young age.
We had to do a biopsy, but the results were inconclusive. That's when the doctors discovered that there was a blockage preventing fluid from reaching my brain. They told me I needed to have surgery to remove the tumor, which they confirmed was cancerous.
As soon as I heard the word "cancer," I was in shock. I couldn't feel any emotions. All I could think about was how much time I had left. Thankfully, the doctors told me that my cancer was treatable and I felt some sense of relief.
I started chemotherapy in early May to shrink the tumor. But during my first session, my mother noticed something was terribly wrong. I was still experiencing migraines, but I was also extremely lethargic, lost a significant amount of weight, and kept drifting in and out of consciousness. My mother immediately brought it to the attention of a nurse, who called for a consultant. I was rushed for an MRI and that's when they discovered that my tumor had ruptured. We had to stop the chemotherapy and I had to undergo emergency surgery to stop the bleeding. The risk of complications or even death was high.
Remarkably, I survived the eight-hour surgery and was put into an induced coma for a couple of days. When I woke up, my mother told me that I kept trying to figure out what was going on with the catheter attached to me. Apparently, that was my way of relieving the tension after almost losing my life.
When a family is told that their child has cancer, their world is turned upside down in an instant. Young Lives vs Cancer is there to support these children and their families from the moment they hear the devastating news. They provide whatever support and help is needed, for as long as it is needed.
After witnessing the devastating effects of cancer on my father, I couldn't help but wonder about my own fate. How much time did I have left? This question lingered in my mind as I recalled a poignant moment with my father on his deathbed. Despite his fluctuating state of consciousness, he suddenly sat up and pointed at me, wordlessly. Then just as quickly, he fell back onto his pillow, drifting back to sleep. I couldn't help but wonder what he was trying to convey. Was he silently urging my older siblings to take care of me, being the youngest? Or was it something more sinister?
Sadly, my father passed away just 15 hours after arriving at the hospital. And within two weeks, at the young age of 21, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It may sound farfetched, but I often wonder if my father somehow knew about my condition before anyone else did. In my darkest moments, I even found myself blaming him for passing on his cancer to me. My mother, seeing the physical and emotional pain I was enduring, urged me to see a doctor.
It all started in August of 2018 when my father sat me down and revealed he had colon cancer. He was a man of few words, always wanting to protect his four children from worry. As his condition deteriorated in the beginning of 2019, he lost a lot of weight and had to have a stoma bag fitted. Then, on April 18th, while I was at my brother's house, we received a call from my uncle that my father was in the emergency room and his time was running out. It was a devastating blow. By the time we got to the hospital, he was heavily sedated and passed away in the early hours of the next day, surrounded by his loved ones. On what would have been his birthday, we gathered to celebrate his life. But just a week later, we were faced with the heartbreaking task of clearing out his house in preparation for his funeral.
It was during this time that I began to experience excruciating migraines. At one point, the pain was so intense that I couldn't even bear to look at light and had to shield my head with a blanket. My brothers thought I was being dramatic, but I knew something was seriously wrong. Despite my reluctance to see a doctor, my mother could see the anguish I was in and insisted I seek medical help.
This is when I learned about the Lifeline challenge organized by The Agency in support of Young Lives vs Cancer. They were raising funds for the charity by organizing a hike along the beautiful Jurassic Coast. I knew I had to do something to make a difference, so I signed up to do the 25km hike. Whether it was as part of a team or on my own, I was determined to do my part in helping young cancer patients. And with the support and guidance provided by Team Lifeline, I knew every step I took would make a significant impact.
But as fate would have it, my health took a turn for the worse. I was only 21 years old and my mother had to take me to the hospital because I felt like I was going to collapse. We were just steps away from the hospital doors when my legs went weak and I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was waking up on a hospital trolley, numb on one side of my body. I was terrified and didn't know what was happening.
Doctors quickly prioritized me for a CT scan, and the results revealed a mass on my brain in the pituitary gland. I didn't understand the full extent of what this meant, but I knew it couldn't be good. Could it be cancer? I couldn't believe it. I was only 21.
Further tests and a biopsy confirmed my worst fears. The fluid in my brain was not able to flow properly due to a massive blockage, and I would need surgery to remove the tumor. As soon as the word 'cancer' was mentioned, I was in a state of shock. I felt numb and emotionless. I couldn't help but think about my father and how he had also battled cancer. How much time did I have left?
Thankfully, the doctors assured me that the cancer was treatable. I began chemotherapy in May, but during my first session, my mother noticed something was wrong. I was still experiencing migraines, and I was extremely lethargic, sleeping for 14 hours a day and losing weight rapidly. In a state of consciousness, I was told to rest, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was seriously wrong. After raising her concerns with the nurses, my mother managed to get me an emergency MRI. The results were shocking. The tumor had haemorrhaged, and I needed immediate surgery to stop the bleeding. The risks were high, and my mother later told me that even the nurses were crying, fearing that I wouldn't make it.
But miraculously, I pulled through after eight hours in surgery. I was put in an induced coma for a couple of days, and when I woke up, I was trying to make sense of what had happened. Apparently, I kept asking about the catheter that had been attached to me, much to the amusement of my family who were relieved that I was alive and well.
The experience has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but I am grateful to be alive and on the road to recovery. I am determined to make a difference and support Young Lives vs Cancer in any way I can. Cancer may have taken my father, but it will not take me. I will continue to fight and make a meaningful impact in the lives of young cancer patients.
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