Natalie Fry

In 2023, 999-call handler Natalie Fry had just celebrated her 50th birthday in Jamaica. After a fall and feeling unwell, she returned to the UK, where a scan revealed a mass on her brain. 

What followed was emergency surgery, life-threatening complications, months in hospital and rehabilitation, and a long road to recovery that would change her family’s life forever.  

Here is Natalie’s story, as told by her daughter Chloe... 

In 2023, just after my mum celebrated her 50th birthday in June, she went on holiday to Jamaica. While she was there, she had a fall and hurt her knee and wasn’t feeling well.  

Back home in Weston-Super-Mare, she still wasn’t feeling well. An examination led to an MRI which showed something none of us expected. Mum had a mass on her brain. 

It was awful. Mum went to the appointment with her husband Nick, and he phoned me because Mum was in shock and couldn’t say the words herself. Never in a million years did we think something like that could happen.  

I remember exactly where I was standing in my kitchen. It’s strange the things you remember: what you were wearing, where you were stood. It was such a strange, unreal feeling. 

The doctors said that Mum needed surgery or she wouldn’t survive. They explained all the risks - loss of hearing, sight, mobility, even death. We were petrified. 

On 3rd July, Mum underwent a nine-hour surgery. It was the longest wait of our lives. When the surgeon told us the operation had been successful, we were so relieved. They’d removed the majority of the tumour, a schwannoma, but some was left because it was too close to a nerve. 

Then, just a couple of hours later, we got a phone call telling us to get to the hospital immediately. Mum had started being sick, which was a sign of a bleed on the brain and they had already taken her back into surgery. 

Afterwards, we were allowed to see her in ICU. It was horrendous. She was on a ventilator and in an induced coma. We were told there was a high chance she wouldn’t survive. I was in denial.  

My mum is such a strong, beautiful, confident woman. I had never seen her weak. Seeing her like that, with tubes and machines everywhere, broke me.  

I remember bursting into tears and asking the doctors and nurses what was happening, but they didn’t know. They needed her to stabilise and heal. 

Mum was in a coma for three weeks. At one point, she started making small movements - a finger, her eyelids fluttering. Doctors warned us there was a high chance she would be paralysed and have complications, but they didn’t know to what extent.  

We didn’t know if we would get our mum back. That was the scariest part. I kept thinking about the last time I spoke to her and wondering if she would ever speak again.  

I stayed with her every day until 8pm, then went home to put my children to bed. It was like that for three weeks, living in limbo. 

They slowly reduced the ventilator support to see if she could breathe on her own. She managed it at first, then needed oxygen again. The tumour had been near a nerve by her ear that controls swallowing, talking and coughing. We were told she might need a tracheotomy for life. I knew if Mum woke up and had to live like that, it would destroy her. 

She also had to have a shunt fitted to drain fluid from her brain. We were told to massage her hands and feet so her muscles wouldn’t seize up. She would open her eyes, but she couldn’t respond or communicate. 

Then she started to move her legs. After being warned about possible paralysis and not knowing if it would be neck down or waist down, those tiny leg movements gave us so much hope. 

Mum did have the tracheotomy, but one day we visited and were told she was breathing by herself. Overnight they had removed the oxygen and she did really well. It was the best news we could hope for. 

Mum was moved to a low dependency ward, but although her eyes were open, she couldn’t communicate.  

There were heartbreaking moments when she realised she couldn’t move properly.  

We would see other brain surgery patients up and talking and eating. We were happy for them but devastated for Mum. I even had to close the curtains at times because I didn’t want her to see and feel disheartened. 

Slowly, she improved. She was in hospital for another four weeks and then began moving her hands. They tested blocking her tracheotomy so she could try to speak. At first, it was just sounds, no words. Then she started to write, but it was childlike and hard to understand. She was understandably frustrated. She also had to have a PEG fitted because she couldn’t swallow. 

We didn’t realise the true impact of a brain tumour until we saw someone once so vibrant and independent become like a baby again, unable to speak, breathe properly, swallow or sit up. But her mental strength never left her. 

Eventually, Mum was able to sit up again and was transferred to a brain injury rehabilitation centre. It was scary because the visiting hours were limited and she was still so weak. Her tracheotomy was removed and she got her voice back, but swallowing was still difficult. Doctors said it would take time and she had to strengthen the muscles by using them. 

She used a hydrotherapy pool, and seeing her stand was incredible. Eventually, her PEG was removed and she started with yoghurt and soft foods. She made so much progress. It was such a relief. She knew who we were. Her personality was still there. She just needed time. 

In total, Mum was in hospital and rehab for six months and was discharged in December 2023. When she left, everyone clapped her out. It was an emotional moment. 

Mum came home with a treatment package including physio and ENT support and we adapted the house with rails for safety. 

Now, Mum lives with paralysis on the left side of her face. She’s lost hearing in her left ear, has very limited sight in her left eye, and no feeling down the left side of her body – although she can move it. On the right side, she can feel but has limited movement and coordination. She can’t drive yet, but she will get there. 

She still has MRIs every six months and in December 2024, a scan showed small tumour growth, which was treated with radiotherapy. We’ve been told it can take around 12 months to know if it’s worked because of swelling. 

We have a new normal now. It’s hard because Mum doesn’t look or sound the same, and the trauma has affected us all. When I came home from visiting Mum at hospital, I could still hear the machines beeping in my head. 

While Mum was in rehab, I set up a GoFundMe and we raised more than £10,000 to cover her bills because she couldn’t work. It’s an awful strain worrying about finances when battling a brain tumour. When mum woke up, I didn’t want her worrying about money. Thankfully, her employer has been incredible, adapting her role so she can work from home. 

Mum could have given up, but she didn’t. She fought for her independence and won. Her brain tumour did not beat her.

I started running when Mum was in hospital, in the moments I wasn’t with her. It became my therapy. It was the only time my brain would switch off. I kept seeing the London Marathon on social media and TV and applied for a ballot place but didn’t get in. I thought, “If I’m going to do this, it needs to be for a reason.” So, I contacted Brain Tumour Research because I wanted to help other families like ours. I was put on a waiting list and when I got the call to say I had a place, I was over the moon. 

Mum will be there cheering me on. It won’t be easy, but I’m running to give others hope. Our journey isn’t over, but with more funding and research, there will come a day when a cure is found and no other family will have to go through what we have.