Tomorrow marks my brain surgery “cranniversary” — 18 years since surgeons removed a ten-centimetre brain tumour that was pressing against my vision and memory.

At 25 years old, I thought I was simply exhausted. I never imagined that fainting on a London train would lead to emergency brain surgery and a completely different version of life.

What followed wasn’t just physical recovery. It was learning how to rebuild myself emotionally too.

There were seizures, fear, exhaustion, frustration, embarrassment, grief for the person I used to be, and countless moments where I genuinely didn’t know how to move forward. But somehow, amongst all of that, there was also humour. Ridiculous moments. Awkward moments. Moments that years later still make me laugh.

One of the strangest things about surviving something life-changing is that people often focus on the moment you survive — but not the years afterwards. The rebuilding. The adapting. The learning how to live again.

For a long time, I kept so much of my experience to myself.

But eventually, I decided to write about it honestly.

Not as a medical guide.
Not as a perfect inspirational story.
But as the messy, emotional, funny and very human reality that it really was.

That became my memoir:
A Brain Tumour’s Travel Tale: Cards on the Table, I Pooed Myself.

Eighteen years later, I’m still here.
Still healing.
Still learning.
Still laughing.

And honestly, I’m incredibly grateful for that ❤️