I should start with a bit of background. B and I have been together for almost 2 years and have been living a close-to-idyllic life in London. We both work in the Finance industry. He’s German. I’m Australian.

On Sunday I walked into our kitchen and saw B writhing like an extra from the Thriller video. I knew immediately that something was up. He is no dancer. Here’s a summary of what followed.

  1. London Ambulance Service. I have nothing but thanks, admiration and respect for them.
  2. Kings College Hospital. A&E, CT scan. At this point we were thinking the seizure was a one-off event, “one of those things”. We were talking about going home for pizza. Seems ludicrous now.
  3. Sign of trouble. The CT scan shows an abnormality. B was admitted as an NHS patient and given the only free bed they had, in the neurology High Dependency Unit, hereafter referred to as the Ward of Death. He was the only conscious patient. It was not a place for positive thinking.
  4. MRI. I worked very hard to get B moved from the Ward of Death to the private wing of the hospital. Ah. Civilisation. Further tests ensue.
  5. Preliminary diagnosis. Frontal lobe brain tumour. It may or may not be malignant. It is slow growing but active. It is of indeterminate type and grade. It needs to come out.

And now we wait for further information and a date for surgery. Quite a lot of activity for 5 days, no?

Here’s a photo of us from February, during happier times.


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