In 2021, 28-year-old Jenny Yeats-Brown fulfilled her lifelong ambition, beginning her dream job as a maths teacher. But just as her career kicked off, Jenny's life was derailed by something far more sinister than stress or exhaustion. What started as a persistent headache during a summer holiday turned out to be the first sign of a devastating diagnosis, glioblastoma, an aggressive and incurable brain tumour.
Told by her mother, this is the story of Jenny’s extraordinary bravery, her refusal to let illness define her, and the unshakeable bond of a family who stood by her every step of the way. From hospital corridors to chemotherapy, laughter, doughnuts, and walking with llamas, Jenny lived with purpose until her final day.
Jenny’s mum Joanna mum tells her story…
In the summer of August 2021, our family went on a typical holiday. It was during this time that Jenny first complained of a persistent headache. Initially, we attributed it to the usual holiday stresses and travel fatigue. However, upon returning home, the headache lingered, prompting a visit to the doctor. The initial diagnosis was a water infection, and antibiotics were prescribed. Yet, Jenny's symptoms persisted, and we began to notice other subtle changes in her.
Jenny had always been a vibrant and ambitious young woman. Her dream was to become a teacher, a goal she pursued. In 2021, amidst the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic, she completed her Postgraduate Certificate in Education (PGCE) and qualified. Despite her academic achievements, Jenny often expressed a sense of being "overwhelmed," a feeling she couldn't quite articulate. We attributed this to the stresses associated with starting her first teaching job.
However, the situation escalated when Jenny began her new role teaching mathematics. On her very first day, she fell ill and vomited in front of her students. This was a clear indication that something more serious was at play. Jenny gave up on going back to her GP. Determined to find answers, she took matters into her own hands and drove herself to Pembury hospital A&E. Despite the post-COVID restrictions, she insisted on undergoing a CT scan.
Being in the midst of the pandemic and because Jenny was an adult we were unable to stay with her, so she would come out and give us updates as we waited in the car.
Then we got the results of the CT scan, which revealed a mass on her brain. We were shocked and were eventually allowed to sit with her in the hospital.
Initially, the medical team was uncertain about the nature of the mass. Jenny was administered steroids, which caused the mass to shrink, providing temporary relief. She was hospitalised for ten days, during which further scans were scheduled at King's Hospital. Jenny was feeling much better, but we still hadn't been told what the mass was. It was just a relief that something was being done although we didn't know the full details.
Every day I would go and sit with her, and we would eat a peach together and just talk for hours. We would go down to the café and chat, remaining positive because we still didn't know the diagnosis.
In late October 2021, a few days later Jenny got an appointment at King’s Hospital in London, so she was discharged from Pembury hospital and went to stay with her partner. At that time Jenny didn't want to be bothered with the paperwork, so I took the discharge note home with me.
That evening, I read the discharge documents and that was when I saw that doctors suspected she had a glioblastoma.
We still hadn't been given a formal diagnosis, so this was a shock. I was horrified. It was a sledgehammer moment.
We were still under the impression that no one knew what it was. This is the moment when Google is not your friend. We started searching online and were horrified by what we read.
My legs felt like they were dangling and there was no bottom in the world; it felt like everything just fell apart. Thank goodness Jenny didn’t yet know.
I was just glad I took the discharge note home with me, for her to have found out that way would have been awful. I shared it with my husband, eldest son and daughter, we sat up all night and talked about what it meant for us as a family and for Jenny. You go on to Google and the first thing you read is that it is terminal and you have 12 months no matter how many times you search the result is the same.
That was when the bottom dropped out of our world, it was overwhelming, we decided not to talk to Jenny about it because it had still not been formally diagnosed.
Jemima, my other daughter and I went with Jenny to King’s where we met with the neurosurgeon. That is when he told us what it was. Jemima collapsed and had to be taken to the hospital chapel because she couldn't cope with it. The surgeon explained that they would operate and that Jenny would be awake for part of the surgery and then referred to an oncologist for treatment.
The risks were huge; brain damage, paralysis but the risk of not doing the surgery was much greater. Jenny was really calm and so brave all the way through, so we remained calm around her.
On the way home we drove via Bluewater to buy doughnuts, if you can't have a doughnut when you have a brain tumour then when can you have one? Then we went home to prepare for surgery.
Lockdown restrictions were still in place so when we went back to the hospital, we had to drop Jenny off at the door rather than accompanying her inside.
It was gut wrenching, not knowing if she was going to be OK.
We all dealt with it our own way; I went to work because I needed to take my mind off it, my husband didn't go to work because he felt he wouldn't be able to cope with the worry.
Jenny underwent a nine-hour brain surgery at King's Hospital, during which she was awake for part of the procedure. The surgeons were able to remove as much of the tumour as possible, and the operation was deemed as successful as it could be. Post-surgery, Jenny's recovery was remarkable. She was discharged five days later and, despite the challenges, remained positive and determined.
It was a relief when she woke up after surgery in the middle of the night and sent me a message. We weren't able to see her post-surgery but a couple of times we drove to the hospital doors and waved through the glass.
Jenny came home five days later; I was astonished at how well you could be after brain surgery. She was so positive.
We had a call from the specialist nurse at King’s; subsequent tests confirmed the diagnosis of a grade 4 glioblastoma. It was then Jenny realised exactly what she had and where that was going.
That was a really difficult time, so we went out for a chocolate brownie because we just didn't know what else to do.
Jenny was then given an appointment with the oncologist at Maidstone Hospital where we went the next day, that was when we were given the news that Jenny had 12-18 months to live and that she would need to have radio and chemotherapy treatment.
Again, the floor fell out from beneath me, but I stayed positive for Jenny.
Jenny asked, “what would happen if I refused treatment” the doctor coldly said, “you will die”. It was so horribly done.
I had read the diagnosis already, so was somewhat prepared, but Jenny didn't, she blocked it out and said she didn't want to know and only wanted to be told positive things.
Jenny began six weeks of rigorous treatment that included daily chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Luckily Jenny didn’t lose her hair through chemo and wasn’t sick. She had the mindset that she was determined to get through it; we were adamant we would make life as normal as possible. Throughout this period, she maintained a sense of normalcy by volunteering at a school where I worked and assisting at her partner's business. We ensured that she never spent a day alone and we continued to create meaningful experiences together.
That Christmas we spent as a family and are so thankful for those days we all had together. It was really lovely; we created memories and even went to walk with llamas. We made sure Jenny experienced everything she wanted to do.
After Christmas Jenny’s scar from her operation got infected, so in January 2022 Jenny had surgery to clear the infection.
Jenny wasn't supposed to fly but she went on holiday to Lanzarote, during that time she kept having scans and they kept coming back clear so she bought herself a bracelet and I would buy a new charm every time she had a clear scan.
In April 2022, after moving to a new home, a routine scan revealed a new growth. Jenny needed a second surgery.
Just before the operation, Jenny and her sister Jemima took a trip to London, where they stayed at The Savoy Hotel and attended a performance of The Lion King. They created cherished memories during this special time together.
Then Jenny underwent another nine-hour surgery at King’s College to remove as much of the tumour as possible. Within a couple of days Jenny was back home recovering but she got a temperature that would not go so we took her to Maidstone Hospital. Her temperature just kept going up and she was shaking so she remained in hospital for 10 days where they gave her lumbar puncture and antibiotics.
We kept trying to get her a bed at King’s and one night I stayed with her until 2am adamant I wasn't leaving until they transferred her. Finally, they found her a bed, and she was moved back to the hospital where I knew she would receive specialist treatment.
We all joined her at the hospital the next day where they continued with antibiotics, lumbar puncture, draining the wound and stretching the scar skin together over her head.
Despite these setbacks, Jenny remained calm and reassured those around her that all would be OK. She was so brave.
Things were settled for a while and she remained at King's hospital but then in May 2022, Jenny experienced a brain bleed, and scans confirmed the recurrence of the tumour for a third time. Despite asking not to be told, the medical team informed Jenny that she had only a few months to live. Jenny could speak, but she chose not to speak to anyone again after that, it was devastating. She just shut down.
Jenny always chose to look on the positive side and being told such negative news she just shut down and shut herself away.
Jenny’s tumour was also growing externally so it was protruding so she always wore a hat. During that time Jenny managed to have a couple of weekend trips, we went back to Hayling Island her old childhood home and took one last look at the sea in Eastbourne. Jenny loved horses so she went with her partner to the New Forest. She did all the things she wanted to do.
Then Jenny started to decline, she gradually lost the ability to function on her left side and needed to be moved to a hospice.
In August 2022, Jenny was admitted to a family Hospice in the Weald in Kent & Sussex, where she spent two weeks and was placed on morphine. One of us stayed with her every night, providing comfort and companionship.
On September 12, 2022, Jenny died peacefully holding her father's hand.
The loss of Jenny has been profoundly challenging. Life since Jenny has died has been difficult, it doesn’t get easier, it gets different. You have to learn for you as a family what that different is. Grief manifests differently for each family member, and we have learned to navigate our new reality in our own ways.
Some find solace in travel, while others prefer to stay close to home. We continue to honour Jenny's memory by sharing stories and keeping her spirit alive in our hearts.
In her memory, I am committed to raising awareness and funds for Brain tumour Research and ran the London Marathon in 2026 to support this cause, ensuring that Jenny's legacy contributes to a future where others may have a better chance at survival.
Jenny's journey was marked by courage, resilience, and an unwavering determination to remain positive, despite the challenges she faced. Her story serves as a testament to the strength of the human spirit and the importance of cherishing every moment.
Joanna Yeats-Brown
April 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 touched by Jenny’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.
