Hi I’m Sammie. I’m 56 and recently (June) been diagnosed with Glioblastoma (a form of brain cancer) I had a brain tumour removed the beginning of May. Went in on the Friday morning and came home by Sunday teatime. I was very lucky. No immediately apparent complications. I could talk, I knew who I was and where I was . Everything still worked. Fingers, ties etc. luckily my op went ok. It was more complicated than expected as it went quite deep.

Because it’s quite an invasive little devil I’m having chemo (tablet form) and radiotherapy to tackle the bits they couldn’t reach. It does grow back apparently but that’s why I’m having the radiotherapy. Hoping that and the chemo will destroy any stragglers. The trouble is the tumour was in my right frontal lobe and I’m left handed so it gave my surgeon a challenge. He couldn’t just go in a dig out the offshoots as the frontal lobe does quite  important things. It controls who you are (essentially) your speech. Co-ordination. Decision making. It essentially manipulates you into the person you are. The more of these tendrils the surgeon dug out if he even could, the less of me e there would be left behind.

I’m very grateful but very sad. Doesn’t look like I’ll ever be a Nanny or Granny. My shelf life is not looking too long now. But just have to learn to deal with it as best I can. Going into hospital everyday for my treatment has been quite an  eye opener. I saw a young boy last week. I honestly hoped he was just a visitor and not a patient. But there are some really old people there too. So both extremes. The worst bit for me are the weekly blood tests. I hate them with a passion. I don’t have good veins but I am a good bleeder apparently. Very small deep veins. Well mother nature gave me something small after all. Wouldn’t have been my choice but there you go.

Sorry to seem blasé about it all but that’s. My coping mechanism. Either that or sit in a corner, rocking and crying and I don’t fancy that really. Not worth the headache.