We are a team of four women from FUNK Training Club, taking part in Battle Cancer London!

Abi tells her story…

For the first time in my life, after years of chaos backpacking around the world while trying to outrun my demons and blank out painful memories, things were peaceful. I was healthy, had a job I adored and a supportive, loving boyfriend. Life was wonderfully ordinary.

And then I was told I had an incurable brain tumour.

When the symptoms began, in October 2023, I put the headaches down to too much caffeine. My one last vice since getting clean and sober, I could easily get through 12 coffees a day, so I quit cold turkey.

The headaches grew worse, waking me at night, but subsiding during the day. I was feeling really low too and a Google search showed my symptoms could be caused by caffeine withdrawal. I started having a couple of coffees again each day and the headaches went away.

I was living a life I’d never thought I’d have. Working nine to five in social media marketing, going home to my gorgeous Stef, creating content for my social platforms, and powerlifting five times a week – my passion.

But in April 2024, the headaches came back hard. I’d never had migraines but now I was waking at three in the morning, screaming in pain and throwing up.

This time I couldn’t put it down to caffeine withdrawal. At one GP appointment I was advised to keep a headache diary, at another given antibiotics for a suspected sinus infection and told to get an eye test in case my sight was the cause of the migraines.

Very quickly, my vision blurred to the point that Stef had to hold my hand and guide me around, so he took me to Boots for an eye examination on 6th May.

A scan showed my optic nerves were swollen and that was causing pressure in my brain. The optician sent me straight to Western Eye Hospital. I wasn’t overly worried. But after a few hours and several tests the eye doctor said he was calling the neuro team. I knew neuro meant brain and that didn’t sound great.

We were sent to A&E at St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington where I had a CT scan. By this time it was late, so they gave me a bed and said I’d get the results in the morning. Though visiting hours were over, Stef never left my side, sleeping in a chair next to me.

The next morning brought the word tumour crashing into my life. The scan showed a mass on my brain and I was scheduled for surgery the next morning.

Everything happened so fast and felt surreal, like I was watching an episode of Casualty.

While in my everyday life I’m hectic as hell, in stressful situations I’m calm and level-headed. So I went into practical mode. I messaged my boss to say I wouldn’t be in because I was having brain surgery, Stef helped me tell family and friends and I told my online community the news. I received so many messages of support, it was incredible.

The surgery took four hours and uncovered a cyst which was pushing on the tumour – the cause of all my pain. They drained it and took a biopsy of the tumour.

“There was one thing that happened,” said my surgeon afterwards, who has a similar sense of humour to me. “I dropped a bit of your skull on the floor. But five second rule, we picked it up and popped it back in and you’re on antibiotics to be on the safe side.”

I’ve called him Dr Butterfingers ever since!

Although I’d just had brain surgery, I felt so much better.

My eyesight was already improving, I didn’t feel sick and the crushing pain in my head was gone. And after just two days, I was discharged.

A couple of weeks later, I was feeling good and normality was almost within reach. I couldn’t wait to get back to work and the gym. But then the rug went from under me. Initial results showed my tumour was aggressive and cancerous.

I needed more surgery – next week. Dr Butterfingers would try to remove as much of the tumour as possible but they wouldn’t be able to get the whole thing. He said the goal was to not paralyse me, but the surgery would severely affect my left side due to the location of the tumour.

I’d need rehabilitation, followed by radiotherapy and chemotherapy.

This news hit me hard. It was frightening. But talking to Stef reminded me that I’ve been through really bad times and come out the other side.

Incredibly, I was home two days after my second surgery on 22nd May, a little weak but otherwise fine. Two weeks later, I was back in the gym, powerlifting with my head still in bandages. I uploaded a video to my Instagram account, documenting my journey in the hopes of helping anyone else affected by this disease.

In the same way that I’d found it cathartic to share my story of recovering from addiction and mental health problems, sharing this new chapter of my life gave me purpose. And people responded to it.

Showing the good days and the bad, I want to give people hope that there is life after a brain tumour diagnosis.

On 30th May, the full biopsy results showed that I have a grade 3 oligodendroglioma. It’s incurable and my doctor estimates that I have 15 years left to live.

There was a time that I didn’t value my life much. A difficult childhood and losing my dad to suicide had led to drinking since my teens to escape feelings of self-hatred. Living abroad just deepened my dependency. I could mess up and move on. I drank vodka in my tea just to start the day and was plagued by suicidal thoughts. Even a failed attempt to end my life didn’t stop me.

The pandemic forced me to pack up and come back to my mum’s house in Berkshire. In my childhood bedroom, resorting to hiding bottles behind my bed again, something broke inside me.

I stopped drinking on 1st April 2020 and never looked back.

I’ve since built a new life, one worth living, and now I have a brain tumour that threatens to steal my future.

But this prognosis has given me more drive than ever to be happy, to treat myself well, to be kind to myself and love myself.

There’s so much I want to do – publish a book, spend all my time with Stef and make as much noise as I can for the brain tumour community. As an Ambassador for Brain Tumour Research, I want to share my personal story to raise awareness and fight for change.

I can’t change the past and I can’t control the future. But I can decide how to live right now.

If I only have 15 years left, then let’s make these 15 years great.