Congratulations! It's a tumour.

Coming to terms with any illness, be it the days ahead of dealing with a simple cold, or digesting the fact you have a brain tumour, is no easy feat. Being a 19 year old, however, makes it seem that little bit harder.

Having spent the past 4 years avoiding unplanned pregnancy, when I began bringing up my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and supper in 2018 I must admit I had scared myself silly. I was tired all the time, sleeping for over 12 hours a day, no food or water would stay down and the only respite from the gruelling headaches included a fun 30 minutes or indeed those 12+ hours of coma-like sleep. Everybody thought I may have been pregnant, why else would I react so badly to food? Even the smell of it set me off. So I was sent for a scan in October 2018, but slightly different to what you'd expect; I was sent for a CT scan following a brief stint at my opticians earlier that day, and it was a boy. Specifically, it was a gemistocytic astrocytoma I'd named Bertherb.

After 8 months of headaches, sickness, nausea, mood swings, double vision, and overall weakness I finally had a diagnosis that didn't even resemble the word 'migraine'. I was finally given medication that got rid of the pounding headaches, and my entire life ground to a hault. I now had bigger problems than beginning my degree, I had to come to terms with the fact I had been given a horrific diagnosis when I hadn't even hit my 20s yet. So, where do you begin with something like this?

Firstly, it is NOT your fault. There was no herbal tea you could drink, no food you could've consumed, or lifestyle you could've led that would have stopped this. That simple statement of not being at fault is possibly the hardest thing to come to terms with, the horrific guilt that resides in your chest as you have to tell the people you care about that you are very sick, and there's nothing you can do to change that. Secondly, this diagnosis is not going to control your life. A strange statement to make considering your life will be filled with constant medical supervision, but it is something I cannot stress enough. Being diagnosed with a brain tumour is gigantic, but it is not the end. You are not your diagnosis, and you do not become the 'person who had a brain tumour', that is not your primary personality trait. You are everything in spite of having a brain tumour, and you are living in spite of having one. Thirdly, you are going to hear ALOT of this cliché shit, and that's okay! To begin with it will irritate you, it will sound patronising, and you'll want to tell every person who says it to 'naff off' while you try and go back to sleep. Yet, one day, someone will ask you how you are doing, and you will reply 'I am doing great! I could be alot worse, and I'm pushing through this with confidence', and you will actually mean it. When these 'clichés' come from you, the person actually dealing with the diagnosis, they become a mantra. That is where recovery really begins.

If lucky enough to have had an operable tumour, the days after surgery will be nothing in comparison to the mental preparation it takes to push through your diagnosis. The constant travelling to hospitals for MRI scans, blood tests, radiotherapy, chemotherapy, actual therapy, meetings, appointments, and any other unbearable engagement will tire you out; and you will be met with those smiles, and that tone of voice that asks 'Are you okay?' that makes your eyes roll so far back into your head you could see your swollen optic nerves. However, these end up becoming the things you look forward to, they are the epitome of support and wellbeing, and you will grow to love them as you note the care in someone's eyes, or the softness of their hand on your shoulder as they comfort you.

The thing is, having a brain tumour isn't all that bad. Sure, it is a massive shock that turns your stomach, but it humbles you in a way some people will never imagine. Your outlook on life completely changes and you are transformed for the better. The process of getting rid of a brain tumour, now that sucks, but the people you meet? The friends you make who just have to sit in the same room as you to understand how you feel? The nurses, consultants, and surgeons who always remember you? All of those things lift your spirit, and you end up fighting every dirty punch thrown at you with twice the vigour. Brain tumours are not the end of your life, sometimes they are just the beginning.

And I should know, because I began by getting rid of mine.