1 year 1 week since diagnosis!
Welcome!
Hi, my name is Steve, and this is the story of how my life was turned completely upside down in the space of 24 hours…
I woke up on Monday 18 August 2025 ready to face what I presumed would be a week like any other. 24 hours later, with no warning signs, I was waking up to be told it was suspected I had an incurable form of brain cancer, with an average prognosis of 12 to 18 months.
Here I talk about what happened on that fateful day and what has happened since, as well as sharing some random thoughts during this journey…
My Latest Blog Posts
- One Year Since Brain Surgery: Ten Things I Didn’t Expect…
5:30am, Wednesday 10 September 2025. A year ago today my dad and I got up, left our accommodation in Dulwich and started walking. It was about 30 minutes to King’s College Hospital. Neither of us had slept particularly well. At the end of that walk, surgeons were going to open… Read more: One Year Since Brain Surgery: Ten Things I Didn’t Expect… - One Year On…
Exactly one year ago today, on Tuesday 19 August 2025, I woke up in Pembury Hospital to be told by two very sombre-looking doctors that the CT scan they’d done the previous night had revealed what appeared to be a small cancerous lesion on my brain. They believed it was… Read more: One Year On… - Beware the Ides of August
I am starting to think August might be my unlucky month. Last year, on 18 August 2025, I had the seizure that ultimately led to my glioblastoma diagnosis. Then, on Thursday 6 August 2026, I had what may have been my second seizure. I say may have been because it… Read more: Beware the Ides of August - Remembering Theo Burrell – 1986 to 2026.
One of the hardest things about being diagnosed with glioblastoma is how small the club is. Very few people truly understand what you’re going through, so naturally you look for those who do. That’s how I came across Theo Burrell. Unless you have glioblastoma, or you’re a regular viewer of… Read more: Remembering Theo Burrell – 1986 to 2026. - The End of the Line (Part One)
This evening (Tuesday 2 June), around 10pm, a real milestone (for me anyway), will take place, as I take my final tablet of my final round of chemotherapy. This will see the culmination of: Effectively, it brings to an end my initial treatment for glioblastoma. For the first time since… Read more: The End of the Line (Part One)
Steve, you are an inspiration. This journal is amazing and really informative too. And I am so impressed – but not surprised – that you can describe your post-recovery lunch! My best friend had a non-operable glioblastoma, so I am hoping against hope that what’s left of yours is going to behave itself and be more of an inconvenience over the years. Thank you for sharing your journey and keep that positive head on your shoulders.
Love Emily.
Ps. Now is the time to constantly wind up Phill, while you have the upper hand 😉 xxx
Haha, thanks Emily!
I just wanted to say that I really appreciate the blog. My dad has GBM and while his prognosis is worse than yours (he’s a bit older and is unmethylated), it’s very helpful and reassuring to get perspectives from someone dealing with a similar diagnosis. I’m hoping for the very best for you.
Thank you, and I will hope for the best for your dad. Best wishes to you both.
I just wish you the best bro
Thank you