Gary's Story

My cancer journey began when I was 11 years old.  The tumour in my brain was discovered purely by accident on the 30^th of April 1991.  At first several doctors and GPs dismissed my excruciating headaches as classic migraines and insisted that my mother was being neurotic.   A couple of hours later however, it was a completely different story and I was rushed to hospital.   After a CT scan doctors told my mother they had found a lump the size of a grapefruit in the centre of my brain.

Today I still have 30% of that grapefruit in my brain and after 15 operations and is now supported by 3 shunts.     

Two years after my diagnosis in 1993, I was drinking up to 4 litres of juice a day and still taking a bottle of water with me to bed every night.  My mum again sought advice from our GP, asking if I could be tested for diabetes.   Despite my previous history, her concerns were not met with any added immediacy and I spent Christmas that year in diabetic coma.  A few months after I found out a boy down the road from me was diagnosed with the same symptoms.  He sadly passed away.  I didn’t know him that well but his death has stuck with me.  In all honesty I have been read my last rites so many times I am sure the priest can see me coming.

Since that day in April, and the Christmas I missed out on, people have told me a lot of different things about my life.  Doctors told my mum I wouldn’t live past my 16^th birthday, that my diabetes was incurable and I would probably never walk again.  Today I have walked the equivalent of the West Highland Way, abseiled down the Finneston Crane and climbed Tinto Hill numerous times as an Assistant Team Leader for the Princes Trust. 

I don’t regret anything about my life.  I would never have met half of the people I know were it not for my cancer and I wouldn’t have experienced over 90% of the things I have. 

Today I am completely medication free but have been left with osteoporosis and tunnel vision.  I am still in pain every day, and sometimes the pain is so bad I cannot leave the house but these difficulties make me who I am and for that I wouldn’t change a thing.  For me, cancer is about the journey, not the destination.

Laughing helps a lot.  I learnt some of the sickest jokes in hospital, and they were often told to me by the people with the affliction.  I was given some shocking nicknames, like Robocop and “Second last of the Mochicans”, but they made me laugh and helped me deal with the fact I was such a regular at the hospital and had seen every room in Ward 66. 

I found my cancer and other medical scares easier to deal with when I started to visit Cancer Support Scotland in 1998 and took part in their youth group, ConTak, specifically designed for 16+ and offering support to any young person affected by cancer.  It was good to have other people my age to talk to, without needing to be in a hospital bed to do it.   I also received a full body massage once a week which helped a good deal with the pain. 

I wake up every morning and smile; I remember the day my mum told me the doctors said I would not live past the age 16.  In that case, I guess I am 15 years past my sell by date.