Liam, 26, a maintenance worker from Bristol, was used to long days and hard graft. But in early 2019, something changed, he started blacking out without warning, falling asleep mid-conversation, and forgetting entire days. At first, he brushed it off as exhaustion from working 80-hour weeks. What he didn’t realise was that these symptoms marked the start of a life-altering journey: one that would take him through three brain surgeries and treatment.
Diagnosed with a rare and aggressive brain tumour, Liam’s world was turned upside down almost overnight. Yet through every setback and surgery, Liam kept fighting. Today, Liam has not only reclaimed his independence, but he's also sharing his story to raise awareness and bring hope to others facing similar battles. What began as a terrifying collapse has become a powerful testament to strength, resilience, and the importance of never giving up.
Liam tells his story…
I first noticed something wasn’t right back in 2019. I was a maintenance worker, doing a job with my dad. I went up a ladder and suddenly got confused. I’d always suffered with migraines as a kid, so I didn’t think too much of it. I was also really tired all the time, falling asleep mid-conversation. But I was working 80 hours a week, so I just thought I was exhausted.
I went to my GP a few times, and they said it was down to my diet and the long hours I was working. I was pretty skinny at the time, so I sort of accepted it and kept going.
But things got worse. I started blacking out, couldn’t stay awake, and began projectile vomiting. I remember going to Belfast that March for St. Patrick’s Day, or rather, I don’t. My family told me I was just slumped over a bar table with my head down, and I hadn’t even had a drink. They said that I appeared mentally absent, they pleaded for me to go to the hospital, but I refused and went back to the UK. I don’t remember much of it but somehow, I managed to board the plane and get back home.
I didn’t even tell my dad I’d gone, which was completely out of character for me. When I got back to the UK, I slept for a couple of hours and still went to a night shift.
On returning to work, colleagues noticed something was off. I was falling asleep at work again, and no one could wake me, not even shouting or nudging. One supervisor insisting a drug test but my supervisor, who knew me really well, said this isn’t right and out of character for me and rang my mum. He told her, “I don’t want to worry you, but Liam’s not himself.” And my mum said: “I’ve been thinking the same.”
I didn’t realise how bad things had got. I was missing chunks of time because of memory loss.
By May 2019, my mum dragged me back to the GP. Despite signs of cognitive decline and vision loss the doctor gave me the same diagnosis overworked and underfed. But my mum wasn’t having it anymore. She demanded a second opinion, so we went to the optician and paid for full testing. I couldn’t even stay awake through the exam. I woke up hearing the optician telling my mum that I needed to go to the hospital, urgently. He said there was something behind my eye.
Finally, I got an MRI scan at the Royal United Hospital in Bath, I was sent home to wait for the results. My mum then rang the GP again for answers, and when the doctor got back to us after seeing the results, he apologised straight away, he’d missed something big. The scan showed I had a brain tumour. My mum told him she wanted me taken to Southmead Hospital in Bristol because of their neurological team.
An hour later, a neurosurgeon called us. He told my mum to bring me in that night. They didn’t think I’d make it through the weekend.
I blacked out again and woke up a week later in Southmead Hospital, Bristol. My mum was sitting next to me, holding my hand, crying. I cried too.
I’d had an 8-hour surgery to remove a cystic craniopharyngioma, a low-grade brain tumour. The surgeon said they didn’t know how long it had been growing. It had crushed my pituitary, thyroid, and adrenal glands.
That was just the start.
After a month in hospital, I went home, but within a week I was back, same symptoms. The cyst had liquefied and filled the space where the tumour had been. I had a second surgery to drain it and fit a permanent drain in my head. Then I went home again.
By that time, I felt confused, and still wasn't sure when it would all end.
Within 24 hours, another blackout, more vomiting, I was rushed back to Southmead and had another MRI. The cyst had solidified again and shifted the drain, causing more pressure. My third brain surgery in three months. This one did the most damage.
I spent two months in hospital. As I worked in the hospital colleagues came to visit me daily, they kept me going.
In August 2019, I finally went home. I was sitting in the garden with my mum, talking about celebrating, when I felt it again, went pale, then projectile vomiting only this time I didn't black out. Straight back to hospital.
I underwent radiotherapy. It was brutal. Eight weeks of treatment, six tablets a day. I gained over eight stone in under two months. My skin tore from the stretch marks. The fatigue was soul-destroying.
But by the end of October 2019, I rang the end of treatment bell.
It felt like I’d made it. I went back to work part time. Then COVID-19 hit. I was furloughed due to my immunocompromised status. During this time, I adopted two dogs, Cookie and Crunchie, who became my companions and motivation, they kept me sane.
But recovery brought new battles, my hip began deteriorating from the treatment's side effects. I was due back to work in August 2020, my hip went, I thought it was due to the weight, as I was then up to 26 stone. I went to the doctor who sent me to have an X-ray, they said that my hip was fractured but they wanted to check further so I was sent for an MRI which revealed my bones were dying, the doctor said it was the side effects from the steroids and radiotherapy.
What saved my life was now killing other parts of my body.
I needed a hip replacement. At 26 stone, I couldn’t walk comfortably. The NHS waiting list was 18 months. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
Then, in January 2021, I got the call. Six days later, I had my hip replacement surgery.
I fought to recover, again. I needed my job back, needed my life back. I fought long and hard to get back to good health and by summer 2021, I was back at work.
Now I’m on yearly scans and eye check-ups. I’ve lost seven stone, regained 85% of my vision.
It’s been hell. But I made it.
Brain tumours don’t care who you are, young, old, rich, poor. It doesn’t discriminate. More needs to be done. We need a cure.
My experience underscores the urgent need for early diagnosis and better understanding of brain tumours, especially rare ones like craniopharyngiomas. It highlights gaps in GP awareness, the cost of delayed diagnoses, and the immense physical and psychological toll of recovery.
The Brain Tumour Research Facebook group has been a lifeline for me. I go on there to encourage others who are just starting their journey. And I am helping to raise money for research, and I’ve completed the 200k in May challenge and raised £400. I hope it helps someone.
I’m still here. And I’m not giving up.
Liam Harvey
May 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 Liam’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.
