Rosemary Hill

Brain Tumour Research 3 min read

Dr Catherine Bladen, Scientific Officer at Vector Labs and a cancer scientist based in Teesside, never imagined that her professional knowledge would become so deeply personal.

In September 2025, her mother, Rosemary Hill, aged 78, was diagnosed with an inoperable glioblastoma. What followed was a rapid, devastating journey that exposed the limitations of current brain tumour treatments and strengthened Catherine’s determination to advocate for personalised medicine and greater investment research into brain tumours.

 

Here is Rosemary’s story, as told by her daughter, Catherine...

In September 2025, my mum fainted at home and was taken by ambulance to North Tees Hospital. She was told she had probably got too warm and passed out, and she was sent home. My sister Helen and I felt uneasy; the explanation didn’t sit right with us.

Over the next two weeks, we both noticed subtle changes in Mum’s personality. They were the kind of changes no one else would pick up on, but we knew something was wrong.

One moment that really struck me was when Mum fell asleep whilst waiting for a delivery for me and missed the delivery. Normally she would have been annoyed with herself, but instead she was strangely blasé and said: “These things happen.” I called my sister that night and we both agreed Mum needed to be checked again.

The very next day, and on her 78th birthday mum fainted again, this time in the shower. We took her back to hospital and this time we refused to leave. We were an immovable fortress and insisted she be properly examined.

A junior doctor listened to us and ordered a CT scan, suspecting a missed minor stroke. Within 30 minutes, our world changed. They found a mass.

I have a PhD in cancer research and have spent my entire career studying cancer. The moment I heard there was a mass, my mind went straight to glioblastoma, and I knew what that meant.

Mum was admitted to the ward, and the wait for an MRI was agonising. She was admitted on the Sunday but didn’t receive the MRI until the following Friday. The delay felt unbearable, but the scan confirmed what we feared. Mum was diagnosed with a glioblastoma and given three to six months to live.

The tumour was around 6cm in size, located in her right frontal lobe. Because of its size and position, surgery wasn’t an option.

A biopsy confirmed it was a glioblastoma. We were all devastated. Although Mum’s speech hasn’t been affected, she does have slower days where her responses take more time.

Mum has now started a three-week course of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Some days are incredibly hard, the fatigue is relentless, but she has been a real trooper. My sister, step-dad Howard and I take turns caring for her, and we’ve made changes to her home to help her stay safe and comfortable, including installing a stairlift and adding grab rails and chairs.

The oncology nurse told us that because the tumour is inoperable, Mum’s prognosis is three to six months. We are hoping the treatment buys her more time. Coming from a family where women live long lives, my grandmother lived to 96 and her sister to 98, it feels especially cruel. Seventy-eight isn’t old in our family; this disease is stealing time.

As a scientist, seeing Mum’s brain scans was sobering. I understood immediately what I was looking at, in a way most people wouldn’t.

Treatment options for brain tumours are painfully limited: surgery, radiotherapy or chemotherapy. There are no biologics routinely available because they struggle to cross the blood–brain barrier, and Mum’s non-methylated tumour means treatment is less effective. The treatments we have are blunt instruments, not precise, not personalised.

What’s most frustrating is how little progress has been made. Treatment for brain tumours has barely changed in 40 years, while cancers like breast cancer and leukaemia have been transformed by personalised medicine and biologics. There are more than 100 types of brain tumours, yet we still approach them with a one-size-fits-all mindset.

We tried to get Mum onto a clinical trial, but there was no interest. Age plays a huge role. Once you’re over 75, options seem to disappear. That’s deeply wrong. Mum was active, independent, and still working as a Human Resources Manager right up until her diagnosis. Older patients shouldn’t be dismissed simply because they’ve lived longer.

We’ve had honest conversations as a family. Mum has done many of the things she dreamed of in her life, and now what she wants most is time, time with us and with her grandchildren. She still wants to fight.

As a family, we’ve decided to turn our fear and grief into action. Instead of Christmas cards, we asked for donations to Brain Tumour Research. At Vector Labs where I work spearheaded by my amazing assistant Julia King, we held a Christmas Jumper Day and raised £800.

I’ve also committed to a series of endurance challenges, running, swimming and cycling, including the Newcastle 10k, the Middlesbrough Half Marathon, a variety of triathlons, and a five-and a half mile swim in Lake Coniston in the Lake District.

I have never known anyone who has survived more than 12 months with a glioblastoma. That is why I believe so strongly in personalised medicine. It would be revolutionary. People’s health should be a priority, and families like mine deserve better options, better treatments, and real hope for the future.

Dr Catherine Bladen
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 Rosemary’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.

PR Officer
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