Lizzie Pitt, 46, a teacher from North Yorkshire, was diagnosed with a glioblastoma, an aggressive and incurable brain cancer, in 2025 after suffering a sudden seizure at home. Initially believed to be a low-grade glioma, Lizzie returned to work while awaiting surgery, before further scans showed the tumour was becoming more aggressive and she underwent an awake brain surgery in April 2025. Following surgery and a biopsy, Lizzie received the devastating news that her tumour was in fact terminal. Since then, she has completed combined radiotherapy and chemotherapy and is continuing with further treatment, including phase two chemotherapy and electrical hyperthermia immunotherapy. Supported by her family and school community, Lizzie is sharing her story to raise awareness of the devastating impact of brain tumours and the need for better diagnosis, treatment, and research.
Lizzie tells her story…
My brain tumour journey began in February 2025, completely out of the blue.
My then 10-year-old son, Felix, found me on the floor “acting weird”. My husband, Al, thought I was having a migraine, something I’d had occasionally before, as I kept repeating how sick I felt. We had moved house just six weeks earlier. I was still emptying our old home and preparing it for rental, all while working full time as a teacher and Special Educational Needs and Disabilities Coordinator (SENDCo). Stress and overwhelm felt like the obvious explanation, so I went to bed.
During the night, I realised my legs weren’t working properly.
When I went to the bathroom, I noticed in the mirror that I had bitten through my tongue. In true teacher fashion, I emailed in cover, explaining that I wouldn’t be in that day as I feared I’d had some kind of fit. After calling 111, an ambulance was sent, and following numerous tests and scans at Airedale Hospital, doctors found a brain tumour. They couldn’t tell me much more and sent me home to wait for Leeds General Infirmary to contact us.
Five weeks later, Al and I attended my appointment at Leeds. We were told the tumour was suspected to be a low-grade glioma, likely grade 2. The team weren’t overly concerned and said that if they had been, I would have been rushed in immediately. They advised me to go back to work and told me surgery would take place in August 2025.
So, I returned to work – a job I absolutely love, and which is a huge part of who I am.
After two further scans, everything changed. I was called back in and told the tumour was becoming aggressive. Surgery was brought forward by four months to April. I underwent awake surgery, which was daunting, but for those who know me well, I was made for it. I chatted throughout, and the surgeon said she was happy she had removed most of the tumour.
Following surgery, I experienced some issues with my supplementary motor area, but I quickly learnt how to use my left side again. I spent four days in hospital and required two blood transfusions before being discharged home. We were told to expect biopsy results in six weeks.
Instead, two weeks later, we were called in and told the tumour was 90% grade 2 and 10% grade 3 – a much better outcome than expected. Then, four weeks after that, I was called back in again, this time with my daughter Rowan, who was 17.
We were told they had got it wrong. The tumour was, in fact, entirely grade 4 – glioblastoma. Terminal.
I was told I had six months without treatment, or 12–18 months with treatment. I was in total shock and felt utterly let down. Glioblastoma had never once been mentioned.
What made the diagnosis even harder was that our school community had already lost Laura Nuttall, a former student at Skipton Girls’ High School, to glioblastoma. Laura’s mum, Nicola, who campaigns tirelessly for brain tumour awareness through the Be More Laura initiative, along with Laura’s sister Gracie, offered invaluable support, advice, and guidance at a time when I needed it most.
Despite the prognosis, I went home determined to research everything I could. I felt fit and well and struggled to reconcile how I felt with what I was reading. With the help of friends, I began navigating the overwhelming and frightening world of glioblastoma research, trying to determine what was credible and worth pursuing.
I began combined radiotherapy and chemotherapy at St James’ Hospital. One of the biggest challenges was losing my ability to drive. The daily 90-mile round trip became impossible, but my friends stepped in and created a rota. I became a baton, passed from friend to friend, from North Yorkshire to West Yorkshire, every single day. The treatment itself was tolerable, with some sickness, but the hardest part was knowing I had to keep researching while I still had the energy – for my children, and for my family.
I am still the same Lizzie I was at the start of 2025, just with an uninvited lodger that I’ve nicknamed Terry the Tumour.
After completing the standard of care, I was fortunate enough to begin electrical hyperthermia immunotherapy treatment in London with Dr Paul Mullholland, a highly experienced consultant medical oncologist. This has only been possible thanks to the incredible generosity of people who donated to my GoFundMe, which was overwhelmingly supported by our local school community, past and present. The treatment involves three sessions a month, and I began phase two of chemotherapy in mid-August, continuing to explore every possible option available to me.
The support from my local community has been constant, with messages of encouragement arriving every day. I never imagined I would be in this position, but I am, and so I choose to remain hopeful and deeply grateful for the love and support around me. I am determined to see my children grow up.
Fundraising has become a huge part of our journey. From the Yorkshire Three Peaks, staff races in Saltaire, musical events organised by my students, online quizzes, bike rides from Leeds to Silsden with my son’s friends, half marathons, and multiple Three Peaks challenges by former students – the generosity and determination of those around us has been extraordinary.
Physically, I remain active and well, although I have less tolerance for things that aren’t essential – perhaps a blessing, as I used to worry about everything. Emotionally, this diagnosis has changed our family forever. We can no longer plan ahead in the way we once did, and there is a sense of uncertainty where our future once felt guaranteed. I haven’t been able to work full time since April and miss my job deeply.
I want to share my story to raise awareness of the devastating impact a brain tumour diagnosis has on people and families every single day.
While I am incredibly grateful for the surgical care I received, I have faced multiple diagnostic errors and have had to self-advocate throughout my journey. I’ve explored nutrition, integrated oncology, repurposed drugs, and emerging treatments – many of which are only accessible through private funding.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that no one expects to be here – until they are. Brain tumours do not discriminate, and people deserve better clarity, better options, and better hope than currently exists.
Lizzie Pitt
January 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 Lizzie’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.
