On 2nd October 2022, I will be taking part in the TCS London Marathon for Brain Research UK. I hope to raise as much money as possible in the hope that this funding can support and achieve a different outcome in the future to the one experienced by myself and my family.  

Every 90 seconds someone is admitted to hospital with a brain injury. These injuries may be traumatic: caused by an external injury to the head or spine; or non-traumatic: caused by an internal event such as a stroke or a ruptured brain aneurysm.

On 12th February 2021, my mother, Coral Burford, suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm which caused her to die within a few hours. 

It was a frightfully ordinary day in the hours that preceded such a life changing event. Being a Friday, I had been to work (from home due to being Covid times), I had attended a quiz on Zoom, and at around 8pm I was 'finishing the week' with a bowl of chilli and a glass of red wine at home with my husband, Andy. 

My phone rang and I saw that my father was video calling me. I decided to answer the phone (with the intention of showing I was in the middle of dinner!) but stopped abruptly when I was greeted with his face on my screen. As is the way when you know someone so well, it became immediately clear something was very wrong, and, as if it were a chain reaction, Andy immediately recognised this on my face too. 

I asked, "what's happened?"

My father responded, "I think your mum has had a stroke". 

When reacting to a life changing event, there is no way to pre-empt how this will be. For myself, for some reason, it meant attempting to be as practical and rational as possible. I immediately began reviewing every bit of internal medical knowledge I held on strokes and firing them at my father; knowledge acquired from no formal training but a lifetime of watching (predominantly with my mum) Casualty, E.R., seeing the adverts etc. I asked my father how quickly had he reacted? What had happened? Had her face dropped on one side? What about her arm? How was her speech? And from what he was responding about what had happened, it just didn't seem to correlate. He explained that the paramedics had taken my mum into an ambulance but it had been sat outside the house for the past 20 minutes and hadn't moved. With a truly rational mind (as opposed to the one I was appropriating) it was clear something was really not right. 

Whilst we were on the phone, one of the paramedics came in to tell my father that in the ambulance my mother had taken a turn for the worse; she had needed to be resuscitated, but that they had managed to stabilise her. That being said, she was now unconscious and could no longer breathe on her own. 

I asked the paramedic in their expert opinion, with a strong caveat of no liability for the diagnosis whatsoever, did they think my mother had suffered a stroke or a brain aneurysm. They responded "stroke" which I will be eternally grateful for. You see, in this moment, the question I was asking was not, "has she had a stroke or a brain aneurysm", but rather, simply, "is my mum going to live or die?" and by telling me that it was perhaps a stroke allowed me a couple of extra hours with the belief that sure, mum might have a bit of a tough time moving around from now on - but when was she particularly active before? At least she would still be here as the person I knew.  

Realistically, the degree of impairment varies enormously but many people are left severely disabled and need long-term rehabilitation to maximise function, independence and quality of life. Brain Research UK are funding research to help understand how to repair the brain after an injury. This may be through behavioural interventions that stimulate recovery, or medical interventions, or a combination of both.

Andy and I then drove from our home in South West London to Colchester General Hospital. Being in the heart of the pandemic and still under lockdown rules, only two people were allowed in the ward to see my mother at any one time. My sister, Catherine, being (like mum) a nurse, practical, and the most compassionate and empathetic of the rest of us, came out to find me on arrival and took me inside the hospital. The hospital staff, knowing more than I was allowing myself to think, allowed us straight through without a word. As we neared the curtain which my mother could be found behind, Catherine pulled me to one side and explained to me that what I was about to see I couldn't prepare myself for, but I needed to know that it was possibly the worst sight I would ever see - it was. 

Later, my family and I were taken into a room where it was explained to us that, having had a CT scan, it was confirmed that my mother had suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm that had affected all four ventricles of her brain. The formal diagnosis would later be an "intra-cranial haemorrhage and anterior communicating artery aneurysm". I was the first to respond, where I just shouted, "f#ck". 

The doctor explained to us, truthfully, that the woman we knew would not be coming back. That the aneurysm suffered had been too severe for any opportunity to grasp at the possibility that life could ever return to even a glimmer of what it once was with her.

This in particular is something that motivates me to complete this marathon and to run for Brain Research UK. Through funding it may be that when someone else is in this situation in the future the outcome could possibly be a different one than it was for me and my family. Put simply, I share in their vision of a world where everyone with a neurological condition can live better and longer.  

At about 3:30am on 13th February 2021, surrounded by her husband, children, and their partners, my mother died. She was 55. 

Prior to her death, like many of us, I lived my life in the safe, secure comfort bubble of "yes these things happen, but they don't happen to me". I very much preferred this way of life, however, as I now know, this can truly affect anyone.     

Living life without Coral Burford is a struggle for anyone who knew her. The reality of not hearing her laugh (or rather, cackle), the reality of not hearing her opinion or advice, the reality of not hearing her wit or intellect shine, the reality of knowing there will never be new photographs; there are so many realisations that continue to surface as the days since she was here continue to grow.  

For me, as her daughter, there is an infinite amount of things I will miss about my mum not being here. But in particular, what hurts the most are the events and future that she now cannot be a part of. She wasn't there to see me turn 30, she didn't see me get married, and she will never, devastatingly, get to meet or know my child, her grandchild. 

I hope that through fundraising the outcome could be different for someone else in future; that when a brain injury occurs there could be more options and more support. Therefore, having heard my story, please consider sponsoring me to run the London Marathon in October 2022 on behalf of Brain Research UK. I am very grateful for any donations towards this cause, no matter how big or small they are.

Brain Research UK has three current research priorities: brain tumours, brain and spinal cord injuries, and headaches and facial pain. The charity also funds projects in other neurological areas, such as epilepsy and dementia.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read this.