In around February 2014 my Dad developed a nagging headache which he put down to “man flu” and only reluctantly went to the GP.

The doctor could find nothing untoward and advised him to return if the headaches persisted. After two further trips to the doctor and a planned CT brain scan, he collapsed at home on the 5 April and was rushed to hospital.

An MRI scan indicated that he had a large tumour in the centre and to the right of his brain. He was transferred to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham where the neurosurgeons confirmed that the tumour was a glioblastoma grade 4.

This was, they explained, not only incurable, but extended down into such vital parts of his brain that they would not be able to remove it all. He had his operation on the 16 April. The “debulking”, as they like to refer to it, left him with pronounced weakness down the left side of his body and left sided neglect which meant that he ignored everything in the left side of his vision. He was transferred back to the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital for rehabilitation and was eventually discharged home on the 16 May.

Following this my Dad was given a six week course of radiotherapy with adjuvant chemotherapy, ending on the 18 July. At this point we noticed that he was becoming increasingly forgetful and confused.

Despite this, my mum and dad managed to travel down to the South of France by train in August to the meet me and my sister and the family spent an enjoyable and relaxing holiday together.

However, it was becoming clear that Dad’s tiredness and confusion were becoming more pronounced. The end of the holiday was punctuated by a brief admission to Cannes Hospital after he started to be sick. After returning home he appeared quite well for a few days but he kept being sick. He was admitted to the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital where an MRI scan revealed that his tumour had regrown. The doctors informed my family that no further treatment would be effective and predicted that Dad had only days to live. Subsequently his condition rapidly deteriorated and he was transferred to the Severn Hospice, where two days later, on the 18 September 2014, he passed away peacefully.

My Dad was a young, fit and healthy man. He had never smoked and had never taken a day off sick. Nobody could tell my dad what caused his tumour other than “bad luck” and, after being given the diagnosis, he never had the luxury of being told he had a chance of survival. We want to help to change this so that in the future some brain tumours could be prevented and that those unlucky enough to be diagnosed could be given the chance to live a good long life.