Para athlete, Anthony, 35, from Enfield, was diagnosed with an astrocytoma when he was six following excruciating pain in his head. After suffering complications because of surgery to remove the tumour, Anthony lives with life-changing injuries. Despite physical and emotional challenges that came with his diagnosis, Anthony pursued a career in fitness and is a decorated Para athlete and Guinness World Record holder.
Anthony tells his story…
My mum always tells me that I’m a laid-back person and I was the same at six years old in 1996 when I was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
The first sign anything was wrong was in the same year when the discovery was made. I suddenly stopped what I was doing and curled myself in a ball, holding my head. There was no pattern or trigger. It happened once shortly after I asked to leave the table at dinner time and moved to a different room where I sat down and started screaming in pain.
I was very sporty and energetic, always running around or playing football but I became lethargic. I started throwing up after eating even though I loved food. Everything felt out of my control even though it was my body.
This happened over two months and with each GP appointment my mum was being fobbed off.
My headaches were put down to migraines and the doctors thought that me being sick was intentional and assumed I had an eating disorder.
Knowing it had to be something more, my parents went private. I had an MRI scan which discovered a golf-ball sized tumour on my brain and from then it was hospital appointment after hospital appointment.
I remember sitting in the consultant’s office as he placed my scan image on the light box. As he spoke to my parents, I found a time to ask if the white dot was my brain tumour. I was fascinated more than fearful.
I had more tests, and the results showed my vital organs were beginning to shut down and I needed surgery within the next 24 hours.
When we got home, my parents sat me down at the kitchen table and told me I was going to have an operation on my head. I replied unphased asking if I could go back to playing my game.
I had a stroke on the operating table which left me paralysed down the left side of my body and caused my face to drop. As a then six-year-old schoolboy I didn’t think anything of it and took everything in my stride, not fully understanding the context of what had happened.
Doctors told my parents I wouldn’t be able to return to an active lifestyle, and I’d never run again.
For six months I relied on a wheelchair to get around.
Nurses in the hospital asked me what I’d love to do. My answer was always power sliding on my knees across the shiny marble-looking floor. At the time, games consoles were increasing in popularity and the nurse asked if I wanted to play. I said I couldn’t play with only one working hand. She called out my answer as nonsense and showed me how I could make it work. That’s the moment where everything changed and I started seeing that I could do all these things that other kids could do, I just had to look at them in a different way and think outside the box.
Things like peeling fruit with one hand and fastening a zip took time to learn but a mixture of stubbornness and wanting to learn quickly meant they became second-nature.
My tumour was diagnosed as a low-grade astrocytoma, and I was placed on a watch and wait, needing no other planned medical intervention.
However, a year after debulking surgery, I had a shunt fitted to drain a build-up of fluid around the area my tumour was removed. Soon after my scar reopened which meant another stint in hospital.
In total, I had a year off school at the same time as having intense physiotherapy which meant the transition of going from Year 1 to 2 was disrupted. I missed the early years of building friendships and had a home tutor so I didn’t fall behind academically. I remember returning to class and everyone coming up to me so happy to see me. I spent many playtimes inside as the teachers were scared I’d hit my head. I had a leg brace which meant I could walk by myself but felt a level of embarrassment that my body was different to people in my class.
Over the next three years routine MRI scans at Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH) came back stable and I was eventually discharged.
I have no peripheral vision on my left side and I can’t move my left arm or ankle; I wear a brace to keep my foot from dropping and dragging. Essentially, I can use only the right side of my body.
When I was 16, I joined the disability team which Tottenham Hotspur Football Club had newly created. I played up front and coaches commented on my powerful right shot. I spent my teenage years feeling good about myself and found my way into running, winning gold medals in 100m, 200m and long jump at the Disability Sport Nationals in 2006. For the first time, I saw disabled people being represented in a way where they were judged for what they were able to do rather than what they couldn’t.
With a new lease of inspiration and wanting to be visible, I tried for a place in the 2012 Paralympics in London but just missed out on a place finishing fourth for a top three qualifying race.
I didn’t let that dampen my spirits and continued running. Last year at the TCS London Marathon I became the Guinness World Record holder for the fastest marathon run with hemiplegia (one-sided paralysis).
This year I’m going for another World Record for the fastest half marathon of a person with a disability and have just completed the Big Half in London raising awareness of Brain Tumour Research. I'll be documenting my journey online @antbryanfitness which has been a great way to show representation of runners with disabilities.
Although my brain tumour could be treated, it left me with life-changing injuries, a result of which often took me to dark places mentally, but this has been something I’ve overcome.
I often wonder where I’d be had I not received my brain tumour diagnosis. I look at all the things I’ve achieved with half a working body and wonder what it’d be like if my body functioned fully.
I’ve survived a brain tumour diagnosis but been left with the impact of treatment.
Alongside campaigning for disability awareness, I recognise treatment for brain tumours hasn’t changed in more than two decades. There must be more investment in research into the disease, to help discover innovative and less invasive treatments. We must keep the conversation of brain tumours going if we are to see these changes to support future generations who receive their own diagnosis.
Anthony Bryan
September 2025
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 Anthony’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.
