Meet a Wicksteed Warrior: My Journey with Brain Cancer
A Healthy Life, Interrupted
I was a generally healthy 47-year old tax consultant from Bristol, married to Lucy, with two children (Jasper and Betty, aged 18 and 16). My brain cancer story began in November 2023. I had been experiencing mild headaches for a few weeks and then started to have a few cognitive issues, and I was persuaded to get myself to the GP. My doctor sent me immediately for a CT scan. I was told that I had a brain tumour, “quite a big one”!
Breaking the News to the Family
We went home and Lucy told the kids that their dad was very poorly and had a brain tumour – I think she might have said that I might die. I know that “how to tell the kids” can be a really big deal for people in this situation, but I think we quite quickly agreed in the car on our way back from the hospital to just be open with them. They were understandably a bit upset, but broadly took it in their stride and were able to carry on with their school and social priorities.
The Diagnosis: Aggressive and Uncurable
A whirlwind of further scans followed, and I was told that mine was the most aggressive type of cancerous brain tumour. I have never been given an official prognosis, but I was told that my condition is not curable, although it could be treated. I could have surgery to remove the tumour, which would be followed by an intensive course of combined radiotherapy and chemotherapy. I was put onto steroids to bring down the swelling around the tumour, which quickly resolved my cognitive issues.
The next thing I knew—eight hours later—I was coming around from surgery and felt incredibly relieved to be alive.
Phil Wicksteed
Surgery and the Start of Hope
A week or so later, my wife Lucy took a call from the hospital to say that a slot had become available for surgery the following Monday (4th December, exactly two weeks after my initial trip to the GP!), I decided I should go for it and we began preparing for the challenge ahead. Lucy and I met the surgeons early on that Monday, I was then taken through to theatre and the anaesthetist injected me in the back of my left hand, telling me I might feel like I’d had a couple of gins. The next thing I knew (but apparently eight hours later), I was coming around, Lucy was there alongside the surgical team and I felt incredibly relieved to be alive. I was taken to intensive care for the night, but I could move my arms and legs and it felt like it was “me” in control of my body. The next day I felt pretty awful – and I looked like a troll! I had another MRI that evening and the next morning (Wednesday), I was woken up by the surgeon’s registrar, who had the results. It was the best news! There was no visible “contrast”, meaning that the tumour appeared to have been completely removed – to the naked eye. Unfortunately, the nature of these tumours is that they grow back. I would still need to have radiotherapy and chemotherapy, but, the immediate focus was to be on my recovery from surgery which would take several weeks at least. Once I left hospital, I felt reasonably well. My swollen head and bloodshot right eye returned to normal and over the coming days we decided that I should be strong enough to go to my brother’s house in Surrey for Christmas, so long as we could get the nod from the surgery team.
A Glimmer of Light Before Christmas
On 20th December I was given the histology lab results from the tumour. I was expecting to be told that the tumour had been a glioblastoma (as that fitted the description of “most aggressive type of cancerous brain tumour”), however the lab had found certain mutations in the tumour which meant that I would have a different diagnosis (of Grade 4 astrocytoma) and that the outcome might be slightly better than if I’d had a glioblastoma (which generally comes with a life expectancy of 12 to 18 months post diagnosis).
Meeting the Oncologist and Starting Treatment
In January, I met our oncology consultant, Dr Chris Herbert, at the Bristol Royal Infirmary (BRI). Chris told me all about the radiotherapy and chemotherapy treatments I was about to take, and didn’t hold back, explaining all the horrible potential side effects (including death, if I picked up an infection while on chemo!). He avoided giving me a prognosis, but confirmed that my diagnosis should mean that I had a chance of outperforming the typical survival rates for people with a glioblastoma.
I began my intensive course of radiotherapy and chemotherapy at Genesis on 22nd January 2024, having had my radiotherapy mask moulded the previous week.
A Team Effort: Support from Friends and Family
For the next six weeks, I relied on my amazing family and friends to transport me to Genesis every weekday. I found the radiotherapy a very “weird” experience, but it was the chemotherapy which I was more worried about: Mercifully, I found that I was able to tolerate the chemo drugs pretty well, and they were all capsules, which I could take at home.
Celebrating a Milestone
I had my final radiotherapy session on Friday 1st March 2024 and the next day we threw a party to celebrate completing the six weeks of intensive treatment and to thank our friends and neighbours for all their help and support.
Getting Back to Life
It was agreed that I could return to work so long as I took things steady. I agreed with my employer that I would start working 2 hours each day, five days a week. I now began some further rounds of chemotherapy (this time in 28-day cycles, taking tablets for five days and then having 23 days off). The first round went well and I got into a routine, exercising every day to keep up my energy levels, and gradually building my strength and confidence.
I have gradually phased in my return to work: At the time of writing, I am almost back up to full time and have completed 12 rounds of chemotherapy.
Holidays, Healing, and Hope
We have had successful family holidays to Amsterdam and Puglia, Italy, and the Scottish Highlands, in addition to breaks in Cornwall, Copenhagen and a work trip to Amsterdam.
I continue to live with brain cancer—but I do so with courage, and as a proud Wicksteed Warrior.
Phil Wicksteed
Looking Forward with Gratitude
At work, I feel that I can still make a valuable contribution and I’m in a remarkably positive place as we have cruised past the one-year anniversary of the day of my first scan and receiving that dreadful news.
This journey has been full of challenges, but also full of love, support, and small victories. I continue to live with brain cancer, but I do so with courage—and as a proud Wicksteed Warrior.
