Before Charlotte's brain cancer diagnosis, life was just normal.
Looking back, I realise how much we took that normality for granted.
We worried about the ordinary things that families worry about.
School.
Friends.
College.
Holidays.
Birthdays.
What she was going to do with her life.
Charlotte was just a teenage girl with her whole future ahead of her.
She had plans.
She had dreams.
And we had absolutely no reason to believe that any of them wouldn't happen.
I never imagined that one day I would be sitting in a hospital listening to doctors tell me that my daughter had a brain tumour.
Cancer was something that happened to other families.
Not ours.
Not Charlotte.
Before her diagnosis, I never thought about how precious an ordinary day was.
I never thought about how lucky we were to have a child who could get up and get dressed, make plans for the weekend, without us having to think about hospital appointments, medication or whether she was well enough to walk.
We didn't know that our ordinary life was about to disappear.
We didn't know that the things we considered everyday would soon become things we would desperately wish we could have back.
I didn't know that I would come to miss the simplest things.
Charlotte being well.
Charlotte being independent.
Charlotte complaining about something completely ordinary.
Charlotte laughing.
Charlotte making plans.
Charlotte just being Charlotte.
At the time, we were simply living our lives.
We were looking forward.
We assumed there would be years ahead of us.
Years to watch Charlotte grow up.
Years to see what she would become.
Years of birthdays, Christmases, holidays and family memories.
I never once imagined that when I gave birth to Charlotte in February 1997, I would one day watch her die just six days after her 19th birthday.
Before brain cancer entered our lives, I was simply a mother watching her daughter grow up.
I had no idea how quickly everything could change.
And perhaps that is one of the hardest things about looking back.
You realise that the life you thought would always be there was never guaranteed.
We just didn't know it yet.
If you would like to support a self-funding brain tumour charity, pop a pound in Charlotte's BAG
100% of every donation goes directly to brain tumour research in Charlotte's Lab at King's College Hospital, London.
No salaries.
No overheads.
No advertising.
No merchandise.
We even personally cover the PayPal and PO Box fees, so nothing is taken from the charity account.
https://t.co/qGIjBOl3aq
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Charlotte's Brain Tumour Journey
Diagnosis to Death: 951 days
Age 19
18.2.97 - 24.2.16
13 years ago - 10 September 2013
I woke at 3.00 am this morning to find Charlotte being violently sick.
By 7.30 am, we were back at the local hospital again. I had a feeling that we were going to be here all day and probably all night too.
Charlotte had been screaming in pain for over two hours. She said the pain in her arm and armpit was immense. It was unbearable to watch her suffering like this.
The doctors decided to put her back on dexamethasone, and she was also being given anti-sickness medication.
Another MRI was booked for 12.30 pm.
By the time we were wheeling Charlotte down to the MRI department, she looked so weak. I found it all too much to take in.
Just two months ago, our lives had been completely normal.
Two months.
How could everything have changed so much in such a short space of time?
I wasn't allowed to go into the MRI room with her, so I kissed her forehead and told her that everything would be alright.
But inside, I was terrified.
We had no idea what the MRI would show.
The results weren't going to be available until tomorrow, which meant another night of waiting and wondering.
It wasn't a brilliant night.
Charlotte was very unsettled, and I was exhausted, frightened and desperately worried.
Another night in hospital.
Another night waiting for answers.
And another night wondering what tomorrow would bring.
If you would like to support a self-funding brain tumour charity, we would be incredibly grateful. 100% of every donation goes directly to brain tumour research in Charlotte's Lab at King's College Hospital, London. No salaries. No overheads. No advertising. No merchandise. We even personally cover the PayPal and PO Box fees, so nothing is taken from the charity account. We work hard to ensure that every penny donated can make a difference to research. If you are able to support us, no matter how small the donation, it will help us continue Charlotte's legacy and support research that could benefit people diagnosed with brain tumours in the future.
https://t.co/qGIjBOlAZY
Today, Miles and I went to King's College Hospital to present a cheque for an incredible £400,000 to Charlotte's Lab. It was a very special and emotional moment for us. Every penny has been raised in Charlotte's memory and will support the vital brain tumour research being carried out in the lab. We decided to have a reusable cheque made, because we are already looking ahead to the next milestone: £500,000. Thank you to every single person who has donated, fundraised, supported and believed in what we are trying to achieve.
Charlotte’s BAG has funded research into cutting-edge diagnostic techniques, most recently with Oxford Nanopore Technology. It uses AI-based technology to process vast quantities of data and match the DNA of a tumour with hundreds of thousands of other tumours stored on an international database. Incredibly, this has reduced diagnostic times from three months - to just 24 hours. The impact of this is immeasurable. While Glioblastoma is difficult to treat, a much faster diagnosis removes uncertainty, and enables tailoring of treatment. Patients can focus their precious time on being with loved ones and on activities they enjoy. Professor Keyoumars Ashkan MBE, Professor of Neurosurgery and Consultant Neurosurgeon, at King’s College Hospital, said: "The work that Alex and Miles have done is truly remarkable; an outstanding contribution to the care of glioma patients and a true sentiment to Charlotte's memory.
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If you would like to support a small, self-funding brain tumour charity where 100% of your donation goes directly to research in Charlotte's Lab at King's College Hospital, London, we would be incredibly grateful.
We are now just £91,967.94 short of reaching our next milestone of £500,000 raised for brain tumour research.
No salaries.
No overheads.
No advertising.
No merchandise.
https://t.co/qGIjBOl3aq
Our final total from our 200-mile walk is an incredible £6,715!
This is the most we have ever raised from a walking challenge, and we honestly can't thank everyone enough for your incredible generosity and support.
Every donation will make a real difference to the vital brain tumour research being carried out in Charlotte's Lab.
Thank you to everyone who donated, shared our journey, encouraged us and followed us through every mile, blister and challenge along the way.
Charlotte was brave, kind and wise beyond her years.
She shared her journey openly through her YouTube channel, documenting what it was really like to live with a brain tumour.
Her final video was filmed on 4 February 2016, the day before she went into a coma.
Since then, her channel has been watched more than 28 million times around the world. Through those videos, Charlotte's voice, personality and story continue to reach people she could never have imagined.
When Charlotte passed away, she had around 4,000 subscribers.
For quite some time, it has been an ambition of mine to reach 100,000 subscribers, so that Charlotte can be awarded YouTube's Silver Creator Award.
Miles and I have continued her channel, sharing updates and, where possible, previously unseen footage of Charlotte. Neither of us are vloggers, and this isn't about us.
This award would be entirely for Charlotte.
I never reply to comments on Charlotte's original videos because I don't feel it is my place to do so. I only comment on videos that Miles and I have uploaded ourselves.
So, if you or anyone you know has a YouTube account, please could you subscribe to Charlotte's channel and help us reach that 100,000 milestone?
It would mean so much to me to see Charlotte's name reach that number.
At present we have 93631 so we only need another 6369 people to hit the subscribe button.
Thank you for helping to keep her voice and her legacy alive.
Please could you RT I would be so grateful.
https://t.co/IVf4kxIlse
https://t.co/qGIjBOl3aq
Tomorrow I will continue with Charlotte's journey.
We are just £158 away from raising £5,000
Our 200-mile (220 in the end) walk over 12 days is now complete, but we're still hoping to reach this amazing fundraising milestone.
Is there anyone out there who could help us get over the line?
Every donation, no matter how small, will make a difference and will go directly towards Charlotte's Lab and vital brain tumour research.
If you can donate or RT this post, Miles and I would be incredibly grateful.
Just £158 to go!
Thank you, as always, for supporting Charlotte's legacy.
https://t.co/wCoNQTmu2X
https://t.co/mrMKrVYPrx
@alexeades1 Well done both of you, what a brilliant achievement in very hard conditions. You must be very proud of each other for finishing and for the amount of money you've raised. You now deserve a well earned rest!
I will be completely honest both Miles and I are physically worn out having walked 100 miles. We now know the extremely challenging points of the next six days, including the likelihood that the weather could become very hot again. However, we had a choice to take this on. People affected by brain tumours have no choice but to carry on and in many cases face death at a very young age.
Charlotte would have given anything to attempt this walk. We owe it to Charlotte and all those affected by brain tumours to keep going to raise donations for one of the most underfunded cancers and give others a chance to walk 200 miles.
This will be the last push for the go fund me. Any donations would really encourage us for the next 100 miles.
This will be the last push for the GFM Please RT with thanks Alex & Miles
Thank you for your support! https://t.co/A7nTF75irA
The Brother Left Behind
For most people, the bond shared with a sibling is the longest continuous human relationship they'll ever experience. Beginning with childhood memories and through adulthood, this connection often outlives friendships and partnerships. It is, therefore, a powerful emotional presence and a pillar of support. In cases involving young people dying of brain cancer, the impact of loss on siblings is often overlooked. Rightly, parents' grief is centred - a child's death seems to run counter to the natural order of things; a child should outlive their parents, not vice versa. Yet, in terms of the duration of expected time spent with a loved one, it is siblings who lose the most. When Charlotte died, in 2019, I did not realise immediately the gravity of my grief. Of course, one grieves the sudden absence of their best friend, the shared experiences and powerful sibling bond over now, forever. Later, though, I began to grieve differently - a second stage of grief, reserved not for the things lost in the past but for the things made impossible in the future. It was not until I saw friends becoming aunties and uncles, for example, that it dawned on me that I would never have a niece or nephew; it was not until I saw my peers marry that I realised that I would never go to my sister's wedding, nor she mine; it was not until we spent our first Christmas as a family of three that I realised that there would always be an empty space at the table; it was not until February 18th came and went - Charlotte's birthday - and does so every year, that I realised I would never celebrate her as an adult; it was not until I was due to graduate, that I realised fully Charlotte would not be there. It was, in effect, the grief of becoming an only child. On Christmas day, we go to where Charlotte's ashes are scattered. We bring something to drink and we remember it as her favourite day of the year. On February 18th, we remember what would have been Charlotte's birthday - it's a struggle every year, and it will be for the rest of my life.
Miles Eades
If you would like to support a small, self-funding charity brain tumour charity where 100% of your donation goes directly to brain tumour research, please consider popping a pound into Charlotte's Bag.
https://t.co/qGIjBOl3aq
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Charlotte, was just 19 when she died from a brain tumour on 24th February 2016. I thought the hospital visits had ended. Within a week, my elderly mother was admitted to hospital. My aunt, her sister, died a month after Charlotte on 24.3.2016 and my mother died five days later on 29.3.2016.
Those losses taught me a great deal about resilience. Today, I use that experience to support bereaved students as they navigate their own grief and emotional pain.
I've survived the loss of my daughter, and I hope Charlotte would be proud that her legacy continues through helping others.
If you're considering making a charitable donation, please think of us. We are entirely self-funded, meaning 100% of every donation goes directly to research at King's College Hospital, London. We have no salaries, overheads, advertising costs, or merchandise. We cover all expenses ourselves, including PayPal and PO Box fees.
We are now £10,624.68 short of raising £400k so if you can help please pop a pound in Charlotte's BAG.
https://t.co/qGIjBOlAZY
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