Charlie Pearson’s diagnosis with a grade 2 astrocytoma in 2019 changed his life forever. The 28-year-old has experienced seizures, traumatic setbacks and has since been told his tumour has progressed to a glioblastoma. He shares why patients like him urgently need more research and new treatments.
I had recently graduated from university when I was diagnosed with a grade 2 astrocytoma. I went from being on top of the world, to having everything come crashing down. I was working in London in the Civil Service, in a distinguished role, loving the fast pace of life, enjoying my 20s and feeling like I was thriving.
To have all that taken away from me felt unfair but I had no choice but to accept the situation. I had surgery and required scans every six months.
Things took a turn for the worse in 2023 when I had a seizure on the London Underground. I was given an MRI scan and knew it would take time for the results to be shared with me. Without thinking it was anything serious, I booked a holiday to Portugal with my partner Ollie. Little did I know that it would be our last holiday abroad together.
Upon returning to the UK, I was told my tumour had progressed. It was now a glioblastoma. I went straight into combined radiotherapy and chemotherapy, which lasted for two years. The treatment left me extremely weak, depressed and unable to continue working. It felt like my life had been stolen.
I was angry because treatments weren’t working. I’d been told there is no cure for this disease. How is this possible with so much technology out there? I was 26 and deciding what to include in my will, when I should have been out and about with friends. It’s been overwhelming, disempowering and exhausting.
I used to be slim and healthy, but I have gained weight from the steroids, and this affects my self-confidence massively. I’ve experienced a cognitive decline too which really impacts me. My job working in a ministerial office was a huge part of my life, it gave me new opportunities and I loved writing, but all this has been taken away from me.
I’m unable to go out and do so many of the things I used to like. But I’ve always enjoyed nature as it’s calming and being able to walk amongst trees helps me process my thoughts.
I like structure, so my usual daily routine is going for a walk if I have some energy, getting a decaf cappuccino, volunteering in a charity shop for a few hours, then coming home to sleep. I can’t manage more than that, which is such a stark contrast to what my life used to be like when I had a high-pressured job and regularly made plans with friends.
My experience has given me anxiety because there’s a lot of uncertainty about my health and what treatments are available. I’m terrified of not being able to walk one day, yet this seems inevitable as my health is declining. I tried to come off anti-depressants, but I fell to pieces, so I am back on them.
I’m grateful to the people around me who have helped through my cancer trauma. Some friends have been by my side from the start and even took part in the National Three Peaks Challenge in my honour. My twin brother has always been so caring, though he's angry and can't get over this situation that treatments haven't improved in decades, we are largely relying on charities to fund research into brain tumours and we’re still waiting for progress. My parents have been amazing; they encourage me to take things one day at a time and give me strength on the tough days.
Ollie is brilliant; he’s always got my back and is so down-to-earth and supportive throughout all my ups and downs. I know my life could be cut short at any time, but I still dream about a happy future. So, while out walking by a local lake with Ollie during Valentine’s weekend, I got down on one knee and surprised him by proposing. He said yes! We’re planning a small wedding with immediate family.
Right now, I just feel lucky to get out of bed and have another day. A friend of mine who I met as a cancer patient died within two months, he didn’t even have time to start treatment. I saw him in hospital and he couldn’t walk; there was no hope for him.
I am incredibly lucky and grateful to be here but on the other hand this feels so unfair. At 28 years old, I shouldn’t have to think of the likelihood of dying soon and not being able to celebrate my marriage with loved ones. I should be looking forward to holidays, nights out and enjoying a career. Instead, I’m unable to continue working, I’m not well enough to travel and my health affects my daily life.
There’s a misconception that once tumours are removed and you’ve had therapy, you’re fine - but it’s complex and tumours can return, causing devastating long-term effects. There is a lot of uncertainty surrounding treatments and the future. The other week my surgeon said: “I don’t know where to start in your position, the tumour has spread so much.”
Research into brain tumours has been underfunded for far too long. That needs to change. We urgently need innovative solutions because nothing has changed over the past 10 years. With so many advances in technology, how can we still not have a cure in 2026?
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