Sam, from Worcester Park in London, was diagnosed with a glioma after having a seizure on the London Underground on his way home from work. During 2023 and 2024 the father of two underwent a biopsy, 30 sessions of radiotherapy and nine months of chemotherapy. In September 2024, Sam completed a year-long course of chemotherapy.
Following his diagnosis, Sam became a Supporter Ambassador for Brain Tumour Research, working tirelessly to raise awareness and increase funding to research brain tumours. On 26th July, he celebrated his 40th birthday – a landmark he didn’t think he would reach – and released a special video to mark the occasion.
Sam tells his story…
In the days leading up to my diagnosis in February 2020, I had been experiencing some strange symptoms. I’d been smelling a strange smell and feeling really unwell. It was a smell like ammonia or bleach, and it felt like a cleaning agent was filling up my mouth. I now know this as a symptom or a warning sign called an ‘aura’.
The next day, when I was lifting a heavy weight at the gym, I experienced the same smell. I felt like I was going to collapse, and I had to put the weight down.
I didn’t know it was a trigger warning that something was going on in my brain.
I went back to the office in central London, but I just didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t face sitting in front of a computer screen.
I headed home early and took the tube from Bank to Morden. I thought I would close my eyes for 30 minutes to get some rest and to try and feel better. Just two minutes later, I opened my eyes at London Bridge, but it felt like so much time had passed.
I’d had a full tonic-clonic seizure on the tube just before arriving at Balham station. My seizure was so severe that I fell off my seat, and the contractions were so violent that I dislocated my shoulder.
A member of the public had pulled the emergency lever on the tube, and I was taken off at Balham where the station staff called an ambulance. Later, I was told I’d had another seizure in the ambulance.
I was taken to St George’s Hospital, but the doctors didn’t know why I was having the seizures, and I’d had no previous symptoms. I had some scans and a lumber puncture to collect cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) for analysis. At first, nothing really showed on the scan, but a further scan revealed a mass on my brain.
When they told me, I was devastated. I didn’t even understand those words. To me they just meant death with a zero per cent chance of fighting this.
Suddenly, my life changed. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t drive, and my future was far from certain. It felt like life had stopped and I was in a dark tunnel with no light. I couldn’t speak, hear or understand what was going on. It felt as if the darkness was there because I had shut my eyes in an attempt to make things go away. When I was able to open my eyes, I saw so much more light and love that I wasn’t able to appreciate before. It made me realise what was really important to me.
My biggest fear was that I wouldn’t get time to spend with my wife Sindhu and our two precious daughters Avaana, 10, and Arya, eight.
Because the COVID-19 lockdown soon followed, I suddenly had all the time in the world which felt like a great gift, and I did my utmost to make the best of it. I did the home schooling, and enjoyed baking the banana bread with Sindhu, who continued to work because she is a GP.
It brought all of us closer together. Sindhu and the girls are my whole world and absolutely the thing that matters most to me. Sindhu and I met through our love of South Asian music and got married in 2011.
I know that, for many people, lockdown was really tough but, for me it was like I was living my best life and suddenly menial things were just irrelevant.
We worship at Sutton Vineyard Church not far from our home, and my Christian faith has been my number one source of strength and hope to fight this tumour.
We can’t thank people enough for showering us with so much love, support and prayers. The difference which can be made by showing kindness, giving people your time and telling them you care is enormous. I don’t want to lecture or preach but I do hope I can inspire people to love the moment and make it count because tomorrow is always a gift and not a guarantee whilst today is yours to own and control.
My brain tumour is a glioma and it was growing like a cobweb. This means it is difficult to remove with surgery without causing damage to the areas of my brain which control speech, memory, emotions and mobility.
I was told that if I did have an operation, it would only be possible to remove 40% of the mass. In 2023, I was honoured to become a Supporter Ambassador for Brain Tumour Research. As part of this, I delivered an 80 thousand-strong petition to Downing Street in March 2024, calling on the Government to increase investment into researching brain tumours.
It was an amazing day, but I want to make sure the Government doesn’t forget people like me, and to hear the needs of the brain tumour community and be active in supporting that.
In August 2023, I had a biopsy followed by a course of radiotherapy at the Royal Marsden in Sutton. I then underwent a year-long course of chemotherapy which finished in September 2024.
I was really sick during chemotherapy; I had a lot of nausea and was vomiting a lot. It took a lot out of me and I lost a lot of weight - around 20kg - during that time.
The last bit of poison I put in my body was in tablet form which I could take at home. I was on my own and just got on my knees and prayed and thanked God for looking after me, and I just hoped the treatment had done what it needed to do to help me get back up on my feet again.
There’s a sense of joy and elation that I’ve finally finished, but there’s also some anxiety and nervousness about what comes next.
In April 2025 – six months after finishing chemotherapy - I completed the HYROX indoor fitness competition in Belgium. The event combines eight kilometres of running and eight functional workout exercises.
It was a bit of a crazy thing to do and I didn’t quite realise the scope of the challenge, but I did it and completed it. I’m so proud I did it, it was just the challenge I needed to show myself that I could come back and do this and not be defeated by that chemotherapy label.
When I was first diagnosed, my oncologist gave me a poor prognosis but on 26th July I am celebrating my 40th birthday.
I didn’t think I’d get to see my 40th, that’s the crude reality of living with a brain tumour.
When I was first diagnosed, I didn’t even think I’d see the end of the week. Forty was always a big benchmark number because of the poor survival statistics for people with brain tumours, so getting to celebrate it has been a massive dream for me. It is really significant for me because of the journey I’m on at the moment. I have such a mix of emotions such as excitement, joy, relief – it’s a reminder of what I’m facing.
As part of my birthday celebrations, which include a ‘musical icons’ fancy dress party, Brain Tumour Research is releasing a special film presented by me.Doing the video was a cool experience, but it was also emotional delivering the content. It’s a message of hope for the brain tumour community, and I just hope it impacts people in a positive way.
I want us to keep supporting each other in the brain tumour community and to not lose hope. It’s not a club you want to be part of but once you are we really look after each other with care and kindness. Sam Suriakumar
July 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 inspired by Sam’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.