Name: COLIN SMITH
|D.O.B:||24th April 1957, age 55 yrs|
|Occupation:||S/E General builder|
|05/08/2012:||after collapsing at work.|
These are the stark facts – brutal and unalterable.
I’d like to put them into context, though, by giving a bit of background to show the story behind this particular statistic.
My wife Helen and I were childhood sweethearts and married when she was just 17 and I was only nineteen. Despite almost always having to struggle financially, we created a large and happy family for our five children. In 1996 our world came apart when our eldest son, Daniel, was killed in a road accident. The impact of his loss was enormous but eventually we learned how to live without him and our remaining four children grew up to have families of their own, and, because they all live locally, our ties are very close.
Helen and I felt that it was finally our chance to have a life together without the pressures of child-rearing. Life was good. We had a nice car, holidays abroad, we could eat out more or less when we wanted and, most importantly, I had a Chelsea season ticket! All this was possible because Helen had studied hard at University to become an Operating Department Practitioner (ODP) and her eventual salary meant that I was the closest I would ever be to becoming a kept man!! What a shame I had to keep working too!
Then, one Saturday evening we sparked up the BBQ and had a couple of friends round, a fairly commonplace event. Very out of character though, I was in a really foul frame of mind. I had been moody for a couple of days, I could only describe it as a black cloud hanging over me. At the end of the evening Helen tore into me telling me to to snap out of it.
Well, I just broke down which again is totally out of character.
By Sunday morning the whole puzzling and unpleasant incident was forgotten, well, not until Helen had taken full blame [ha ha].
Back to work on Monday, I had the job of stripping a roof then knocking down a chimney from top to bottom with my son, Jamie. It was a hard week but by the Friday the end was in sight at last. Then, what I can only describe as a daft moment came over me. It was a feeling of complete light-headiness. I couldn’t judge distances, my feet seemed to be unable to work properly sending me rolling around from skip to skip, then finally it was as if an Alien was trying to burst out of my body. Looking back, I understand now that I was fitting. I’m so glad my son was with me , although all he did at the time was roll around laughing, saying “Stop it! Stop it Dad,” lt must have looked hilarious!
Eventually we realised how not normal this was, and, with great effort we got into the van and headed for hospital. On arrival I managed to open my door and…bang! Went straight out on the tarmac and started rolling towards the hospital. Jamie picked me up, literally, and headed to A and E. By now I was fitting again, looking like drunken Bambi.
From then on the wheelchair arrived, I was scanned, monitored and admitted. A few days later I was transferred in to QUEENS SQUARE LONDON and was given a surgical biopsy on 16/08/12.
The results, at the top of the page, were given to us after the weekend.
At this moment in time I am known as a six month survivor…….and counting!
We are trying to raise funds for HEADCASE Cancer Trust which is the only charity dedicated to give 100% of donations towards finding a cure for this inoperable brain cancer.