Doctors warned that my refusal to take their advice might prove fatal. But what could I do? By Lisa Connell, 45
Blinking my eyes, I tried to focus on what was in front of me. But I couldn’t. Instead of one image, I could see two.
I’d been having problems with my eyes ever since discovering I was pregnant and, as well as having double vision, one eye seemed to
be wonky.
I went to the optician and was told my eyesight had got worse. But before I could do anything about it, tragedy struck.
At four months,
I had a miscarriage.
As I tried to recover from my grief, I continued to have problems with my vision, so I went to see a different optician and explained.
This time I was told: ‘You need to go to the eye hospital straightaway.’
I had an MRI scan and the doctor told me: ‘This looks like a squint.’
But six weeks later, when
I returned for the MRI results, the consultant was waiting with very different news.
‘I’m sorry, it’s not good,’ he told me.
The MRI had found a brain tumour.
'I'm sorry it's not good'
I reeled as the consultant explained that it was too dangerous to operate because the tumour — a non-cancerous meningioma — was in the centre of my brain.
It was likely my pregnancy hormones had made it grow.
‘How long have I got?’
I asked.
The consultant explained it was hard to give an estimate.
‘Could be months or years,’ he said.
I was 26.
‘If you hadn’t miscarried,’ he went on, ‘you would probably have died.’
Although the tumour wasn’t cancerous, it could cause disability, paralysis or prove fatal at any time.
It was the size of a satsuma and likened to an octopus with tentacles.
It wasn’t long before it was taking over
my life. I started to suffer problems with my balance and began to walk
as if I was drunk.
I knew I couldn’t think of having children because pregnancy would make the tumour grow even bigger. That left me feeling depressed and I split up with my boyfriend.
But one day, my dad rang and told me he wanted me to meet a colleague.
‘He’s got the same thing as you,’ he said.
When I met Dad’s friend,
I was amazed. He was dressed smartly with no sign of any health worries.
‘I was diagnosed 10 years ago,’ he said.
And I thought: Maybe there’s hope for me.
Feeling optimistic, I went to see a personal trainer.
‘I’m here because I want to retrain my brain,’ I said.
Over the next six weeks,
I worked hard and, eventually, I was able to walk properly again.
Realising how little awareness there was about brain tumours, I began raising money for research.
I set up Rent A Date for Charity, which allowed people to put themselves up for auction for a night out, with proceeds going to brain tumour-related causes.
Sadly, radiotherapy to prevent my tumour from growing wasn’t successful, and when my health began to suffer again, I was forced to put my fundraising on hold.
Six years on from my diagnosis, surgeons attempted to take away some of it away, but they could only remove five per cent.
Another type of radiation treatment managed to stabilise the tumour, but I was left with painful facial spasms, often up to 12 a day.
It wasn’t easy but, in time,
I met someone new and we fell in love.
When I told Dean about my tumour and why it meant I couldn’t have children, he was wonderful.
But after six months together, I made a discovery that left me reeling.
I was so shocked, I screamed and started crying.
Dean found me and I gasped: ‘I’m pregnant.’
We’d been using precautions but they hadn’t worked.
We knew what this meant. If I continued with the pregnancy, the tumour would grow, and my life and the baby’s would be in danger.
My doctors told me: ‘This could kill you.’
They advised me repeatedly to terminate the pregnancy. But despite knowing the risks, I couldn’t bear to do it.
‘If I can bring a baby into the world,’ I told Dean, ‘at least I’ll have a legacy.’
We found out we were having a baby girl. But as my bump grew bigger, my health took a turn for the worse.
My pelvis became sore and pressure increased in my head.
Is my tumour growing? I wondered. Will my baby and I survive?
The doctors warned she could have severe learning difficulties, which made me worry even more.
At 34 weeks, I was so ill
I was taken into hospital.
A fortnight on, I had an emergency Caesarean and our miracle baby arrived weighing 4lb 6oz.
We named her Ruby.
‘You’re here,’ I said, barely believing it.
After two weeks in intensive care, I took Ruby home to Barnet, North London, and nervously waited for the results of an MRI scan of my tumour.
Ten years had passed since my diagnosis, and
I really feared the worst.
So the consultant’s words left me stunned.
‘Your pregnancy hasn’t affected it,’ he said. ‘It hasn’t grown.’
Full of hope, I threw myself into motherhood and set up a fundraising platform, Influential Stars, to raise awareness for brain tumour research.
In the meantime, Ruby thrived.
The doctors’ warnings about severe learning difficulties were also unfounded. Now aged eight, Ruby has dyslexia, but she’s
a bundle of joy and energy.
‘You’re a mini-me,’ I tell her, laughing.
As Ruby’s grown older, she’s become aware I have a serious condition and gets anxious when the time comes for the results of my regular MRI scans.
But my tumour remains stable.
Every time there’s good news, I cuddle Ruby and feel so thankful I defied the doctors’ warnings. We proved them all wrong.
● For more information, visit influentialstars.org and lisaconnell.com. Instagram @OfficiallyLisaConnell @1nfluentialStars