Edinburgh electrician Jerry Kerrisk, 66, collapsed without warning in June 2025 after suffering a series of seizures, which led to the discovery of an aggressive brain cancer. The fit and active father of two was diagnosed with a glioblastoma at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh and underwent surgery, followed by radiotherapy and chemotherapy. Despite the devastating diagnosis, Jerry and his wife, Janice, remain determinedly positive. Together with their family, they took part in Brain Tumour Research’s 99 Miles in November challenge. As Team Jerry, they walked and cycled 500 miles to help fund vital research taking place close to home at the Charity’s Scottish Centre of Excellence.
Here is Jerry’s story, as told by his wife Janice…
Jerry has always been a kind, practical man who appreciates all things in life. He loves being outdoors, walking our dog Rua, playing golf, and spending time with family and friends. He is an electrician by trade; hardworking, dependable, and good-humoured. His colleagues often describe him as “one of life’s true gentlemen,” and that could not be truer.
When he collapsed out of the blue on 1 June 2025, there had been absolutely no warning signs. That morning, he seemed quiet and a little distracted.
We were heading out shopping when, out of nowhere, Jerry said, “We need to write our wills and decide where we’ll put our ashes.”
It was such an odd comment that it stopped me in my tracks, but I thought he was worrying about his stage 1 prostate cancer, which is under control. Less than an hour later, he was fighting for his life.
We were visiting our twin sons, Brendan and Conor, who are 25, at their flat in Edinburgh when it happened. Jerry was sitting in the car, oddly hesitant to get out. I asked him again, “Are you getting out?” and he said, “I don’t know.” He did get out of the car and the next thing I knew, he roared, lifted his arm towards the sky, twisted round, and collapsed face down onto the grass in a violent seizure.
It was absolutely horrific to watch. At first, I thought he had had a heart attack or a stroke. I screamed for help and our sons and their partners rushed outside. When the paramedics were trying to stabilise him in the garden, Jerry suffered another seizure. He was unconscious, bleeding from his mouth and nose, and we were blue-lighted to Edinburgh Royal Infirmary.
In the resuscitation room, he suffered a third seizure. The doctors were shocked at how strong he was, even sedated, as they struggled to calm him. The initial CT scan was clear, which gave us a glimmer of hope, but when he did not fully recover over the following days, doctors ordered an MRI. On Wednesday, we were told he had a malignant brain tumour.
The following week, we were told it was a 4cm long glioblastoma, an aggressive and incurable brain cancer with a typical prognosis of 12 to 18 months.
Jerry underwent surgery early on 23 June to remove as much of the tumour as possible. Remarkably, that evening he was sitting up in bed eating fish and chips. The surgery went well and Jerry’s recovery was remarkable, so he was discharged two days later.
A couple of weeks later, once the biopsy results came back, we attended a multi-disciplinary meeting the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. It was at this meeting that we were given the devastating news. In some ways I had prepared myself for bad news, but Jerry hadn’t. He thought the surgery would remove the tumour completely and he would fully recover. When the consultant said the words “grade 4 glioblastoma,” he was in shock, as was I. He turned to the doctor and said quietly “I feel like I’m a dead man walking.” I will never forget those words. I sat taking notes while he stared at the floor in silence. We left the hospital numb.
At a later meeting with the Neuro-oncology consultant to discuss the treatment plan, we were told that the tumour was “unmethylated,” meaning it is chemo-resistant. It was another cruel blow, but we tried to focus on the positives: he had come through surgery and was doing well physically.
Jerry began six weeks of combined radiotherapy and oral chemotherapy on 28 July, followed by a month off treatment. He is now continuing six cycles of maintenance chemotherapy, five days on, 23 days off.
Fatigue is Jerry’s biggest challenge, which frustrates him as he’s such an outdoors person, but he’s coping incredibly well.
He still walks Rua twice a day, plays occasional nine-hole golf rounds, and has even been fishing again. To look at him, you would not know what he is living with.
It is hard to put into words how proud I am of him. Jerry’s positivity and calm acceptance keep us all grounded. We have never felt angry, just determined to make the best of every day. The seizure that nearly took his life also saved it. Doctors told us that without it, he might not have made it to Christmas. It was the worst and the best moment of our lives all in one.
Since Jerry’s diagnosis, we have been overwhelmed by love and support. Friends and family constantly check in, offering help, meals, and company. Our sons have been amazing, strong, steady, and loving throughout. My sister Anne has been by my side every step of the way.
When Brain Tumour Research launched its 99 Miles in November challenge, we were eager to join as Team Jerry.
We wanted to turn our heartbreak into action and the challenge felt like something positive we could do right now. Our family team includes me, Conor, Brendan, Niall, Gordon and Anne, who told us all about it. Together we set ourselves the goal of walking and cycling 500 miles throughout November, and we have raised almost £13,000 to date with hopes of raising more!
Knowing that this money will help fund more than four days of research into glioblastoma, such as that taking place at the new Scottish Brain Tumour Research Centre of Excellence in Edinburgh and Glasgow, makes it all the more meaningful.
It wasn’t easy doing the challenge in the dark, windy Scottish winter, but it felt right. It got us out of the house, gave us purpose, and connected us with others who understood what we’re going through. I sometimes joked about putting a Fitbit on Rua because she was clocking up the miles too.
What I want most is a breakthrough, for Jerry and for others like him. The prognosis for glioblastoma is so cruelly short.
I dream of the day when people no longer hear that this diagnosis is terminal. Jerry does not talk much about the future, but every so often he will say something that stops me in my tracks. The other night, after being out with friends for my birthday lunch, he said, “I don’t know if I’ll be here next year.” I told him we must stay positive, because that is what we are doing and will continue to do. Staying positive and strong is our way of handling this.
Our lives have changed completely, but our love, our humour, and our faith in one another remain. Jerry is still Jerry – gentle, strong, and quietly brave. Through this challenge, I hope we can help make a difference so that, one day, families like ours will have real hope for the future.
Janice Kerrisk
December 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 Jerry’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.
