The second youngest of five children, Swindon-based Andrew grew up in rural East Sussex, enjoying an idyllic childhood surrounded by rolling countryside and the love of two exceptional parents. In his early adult life, he established a promising career in the pensions sector, while taking every opportunity to travel extensively. All this came to an end after his diagnosis with a low-grade astrocytoma and subsequent treatment. Today, more than 20 years later, his life is unrecognisable.
Andrew tells his story…
From an early age, I loved sport – especially tennis and golf – and I remain an enthusiastic armchair fan of almost anything competitive, particularly if it involves Tottenham Hotspur, or the Six Nations rugby. In my family, I was known for my encyclopaedic knowledge of the TV schedule and my uncanny ability to identify adverts within milliseconds of them starting.
After finishing school in 1986, I chose not to go to university and instead took a job in pension advice at NPI (National Provident Insurance) in Tunbridge Wells. I later relocated to their Cardiff office, where I found a vibrant social life and joined an amateur dramatics group. My next move was to the Zurich Insurance Group in Swindon, where, once again, I built close friendships and enjoyed many evenings at the pub, cinema, or watching films with friends at home.
While working, I was fortunate to take two sabbaticals that allowed me to travel extensively around the world. Armed with my trusty camera, I visited 45 countries. Many of my photos now hang proudly on the walls of my sheltered housing flat – a gallery of treasured memories from my intrepid adventures. I explored fascinating far-flung places like Australia, the Philippines, China and Brazil, as well as destinations closer to home in Europe, and I still enjoy sharing my travel anecdotes.
Travelling in the days before smartphones came with its own challenges. In China, I went two weeks without meeting anyone who spoke English. Ordering food in cafes became a game of lucky dip!
In Cambodia, I found myself travelling during a period of rising danger due to Khmer Rouge activity, when tourists were at risk of being kidnapped. With international calls far too expensive, I reassured my family by letter and had to rely on the poste restante service to collect their replies, with letters waiting at a post office until I passed through that town.
Aside from a bout of malaria in Indonesia – where rats ran beneath the hospital beds – I enjoyed good health for my first three decades. Still laid low by the malaria, I even tried to discharge myself to a nearby hotel, only to collapse and end up back on the ward.
Everything changed in December 2001, when I was 33. I began suffering from excruciating headaches, so severe that even lifting my head off the pillow was unbearable. Multiple GP visits ended with reassurances about migraines and depression, but I knew something deeper was wrong.
One day, overcome by panic, I called a friend who found me collapsed on the floor and phoned for an ambulance. I had suffered a seizure, and that episode finally revealed the cause of my symptoms: a grade 2 astrocytoma.
Multiple surgeries followed to remove the tumour, along with procedures to remove cysts that formed in the cavity left behind. I had a ventricular shunt fitted and underwent radiotherapy when the tumour began growing again.
I managed to return to my job at Zurich for several more years, but my ability to communicate gradually deteriorated. I also became partially paralysed down my right side and developed a distinctive gait, dragging my right leg.
During this time, my friend Simone, who volunteered at the Tranquillity Zone – a local community initiative – introduced me to Padraig and Fidelma, a lovely couple, whose kindness and commitment to serving others left a deep impression on me. Both members of the Bahá’i faith, they devoted much of their time to supporting local young people and, inspired by their example, I soon began helping as well. In time, their quiet dedication and the values they lived by led me to embrace the Bahá’i faith myself.
My mobility continued to decline, making it increasingly difficult to keep warm during the winter months. In November 2011, I made the decision to move to Cyprus, drawn by its vibrant Bahá’i community and, of course, its warmer, more predictable climate. I lived in Cyprus for three years until a period of complications led to a hospital stay. After that, my family persuaded me to return to the UK, convinced that they could support me better if I was at least in the same country.
By 2018, the effects of my brain tumour had progressed to a point where it was no longer safe for me to live alone in my home in Swindon.
I moved into a sheltered housing complex, initially renting out my house to Padraig and Fidelma. Later, once I had accepted that I wouldn’t be able to move back, I realised it would be best to sell up. The silver lining was that Padraig and Fidelma decided to buy it and have kindly invited me back many times to my old home for meals and get-togethers.
Although my brain tumour has remained low-grade, the long-term effects of my treatment have been life changing.
Today, I can no longer use a laptop, and my mobile phone use is limited to basic calls. I struggle to find the right words when speaking. I now rely on a wheelchair and have completely lost the use of my right hand and arm. I require carers four times a day, and my right side is so sensitive that even an accidental touch can cause intense pain.
Travelling anywhere has become very difficult. I need specialist taxis with wheelchair ramps, which are very expensive. Occasionally, I can book a cheaper service through Dial A Ride, a local not‑for‑profit accessible transport provider. Not being able to accept lifts with friends or family is isolating and I’ve missed many celebrations and get-togethers over the years – especially as none of my relatives live nearby.
Three years ago, after concerns from my family about possible tumour growth, my neurosurgeon admitted me to hospital for a week of extensive tests. These showed I would benefit from daily steroids and that I had a testosterone deficiency, now managed with hormone gel. Although the steroids have caused weight gain and swelling, they have lifted my mood and helped me communicate a little more easily. I now feel more inclined to head into town on my electric wheelchair for coffee or lunch with family or my friend Helen, even in the winter – as long as I’m wrapped up warm!
I still enjoy watching sport, films and comedy and listening to music. Once or twice a month, Helen and I book a disability taxi to take us to the theatre in Swindon – usually to see tribute bands, as we’re both fans of 80s and 90s music. We also sometimes manage to get away on supported holidays for people with disabilities, which are eye-wateringly expensive, and this year we’re heading to Italy.
I am deeply grateful to Helen, who lives in the same sheltered housing and helps me with everything – cooking, shopping, attending medical appointments, booking transport and making sure the carers do what I’m paying them to do. I’m equally indebted to my four siblings, who, despite living far away, are always there when I need them.
Andrew Crowe
April 2026
One in three people in the UK knows someone affected by a brain tumour. This disease is indiscriminate; it can affect anyone at any age. What’s more, brain tumours continue to kill more children and adults under the age of 40 than any other cancer yet, to date, just 1% of the national spend on cancer research has been allocated to this devastating disease since records began in 2002.
Brain Tumour Research is determined to change this.
If you have been inspired by Andrew’s story, you may like to make a donation via www.braintumourresearch.org/donate or leave a gift in your will via www.braintumourresearch.org/legacy
Together we will find a cure.
