Mark, 70, from Chelmsford, died of a glioblastoma a year after he was diagnosed. In the months prior to his diagnosis, his family thought Mark’s more contrary behaviour was merely a sign of becoming older. During the same period however, he also described some fleeting auditory disturbances. A CT scan discovered a tumour growing on his brain. Despite surgery, radiotherapy and chemotherapy, the tumour was too aggressive and Mark died in February 2024.
Here is Mark’s story, as told by his wife, Jean…
Right until the end, Mark had an unwavering verve for life.
With hindsight, I can see that although his early symptoms were subtle, we should have paid closer attention. There were changes in his behaviour that, while always part of who he was, became more pronounced.
Mark had always taken great pleasure in a good moan. The heating was too high, someone on the TV was irritating, or one of the children (and their friends) had stolen his socks. His good-natured complaining became part of the family’s humour, which we all took joy in. But what had once been light-hearted and affectionate became sharper; he grew more critical and short-tempered. Although it concerned me, in particular, we put it down to age, never imagining it could be something more sinister.
People who did not know Mark well or didn’t see him very often may not have noticed these changes. They were subtle.
In September 2022, he mentioned hearing music in his head.
It happened in short bursts, perhaps two or three times a week. He could never place the tune and sometimes it was a voice that lasted just a few seconds. He insisted it didn’t trouble him and even admitted to liking it. We later learned these auditory disturbances were mini seizures caused by the tumour.
At that stage there were no other symptoms, so life carried on. But as Christmas 2022 approached, small changes began to creep in. His balance faltered. He dropped glasses of water and struggled to button his clothes. His speech slowed, giving his voice a different tone. Socially, he was less himself, sometimes staring at strangers as if he knew them or saying things that might be deemed inappropriate.
By the time we saw the GP in January 2023, things had worsened quickly. I wondered if he had suffered a stroke. A brain tumour never occurred to us; he had no pain, no headaches, no vision loss. I also thought, but couldn’t be sure, that his mouth was slightly drooping on one side.
The GP’s first assessment was inconclusive, but within days his condition deteriorated. At a follow-up appointment, we were referred straight to Broomfield Hospital in Chelmsford. A CT scan confirmed that he had a brain tumour. Within the hour, our whole world turned upside down.
Mark was admitted to hospital and put on medication to reduce his risk of seizures while we waited for a date for surgery. The three-week wait was agonising, but once he arrived at Queen’s Hospital in Romford the care was exceptional. Staff treated him with warmth and attentiveness, and I felt reassured he was in the best possible hands.
A biopsy confirmed a grade 4 glioblastoma and we were told the average survival was 12–18 months.
Mark wanted to know everything. True to his philosophy of life, he remained incredibly positive and determined to beat the odds.
He underwent surgery, followed by combined radiotherapy and chemotherapy. A scan in October 2023 showed the tumour had shrunk, and his personality, too, returned to something closer to his old self, with a few amusing exceptions.
He was told he would now be monitored every three months. Mark remained active and led a fairly normal life, although being unable to drive — the consequence of his condition — was what he felt most aggrieved about.
Our elation at the good news was short-lived. Just a month later, his symptoms returned.
We made the most of that final Christmas, gathering 20 of us — children, partners and grandchildren — around the table. I began a toast but became so emotional I couldn’t continue. Mark, always eloquent, took over, speaking beautifully about what the day and our family meant to him. No one looking on would have believed his life would end just six weeks later.
The oncologist spoke to us about trials but there was nothing Mark qualified for. We trusted her and she explained that Mark’s tumour had recurred very aggressively. He tried a different type of chemotherapy, but conversations shifted from prolonging his life to planning end-of-life care.
Mark didn’t want to give up, but the side effects of the new chemo were brutal. For someone so active, who loved golf and never missed a West Ham match, the fatigue was devastating.
When he decided to stop treatment, apart from steroids, his decline was rapid. We cared for him at home for as long as possible, though his determination to escape to the pub meant he needed constant supervision. We had wonderful support from the hospice outreach team, but eventually the level of care he needed was too great. With his full awareness and agreement, he moved into Farleigh Hospice, where he died two days later.
I want to support Brain Tumour Research because I now know, from our personal experience, how cruel and devastating this disease can be. We were lucky to have a year with Mark, and for the most part it was a good year, filled with fun and joy as well as immense sadness. I also know that for some, the end comes even more quickly, and they are robbed of the opportunities we had to come to terms with what was happening.
We had so many plans for the future and for our retirement that were denied to us, and our children and grandchildren were deprived of more time with their beloved grandpa. Many people live with brain tumours for years, but the aggressive and unrelenting nature of Mark’s particular type was devastating. It sneaks up like an assassin in the night and takes no prisoners.
We must continue to develop a greater understanding of the disease and its warning signs, however subtle, so that kinder and more innovative treatments can be found — treatments that will prolong life and give families hope. This can only be achieved through investment in research.
Jean Imray
September 2025
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 Mark’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.
