‘We planned our wedding in 36 hours’
After her partner Stu was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumour, Esther Bate-williams, 41, was determined to make every moment with him count
My track record with men had never been great, but when I went on a first date with Stu in June 2020, I knew I’d hit the jackpot. We’d met through friends the previous January and had hit it off immediately, but Stu was very shy, so it took a while for him to ask me out. Now, as we sat chatting and laughing over a picnic in the park, I realised he ticked all the right boxes. He was goodlooking, funny, kind and positive. We connected straightaway and even talked about how we both wanted to have children.
We became a couple, and when my family met Stu, they adored him. “He’s perfect for you,” my mum Anne said. At the time, my wedding floristry business had been badly affected by COVID, but Stu, who worked in sales, was an amazing support. After six months, we began talking about moving in together and trying for a baby one day. But then, in January this year, Stu started to get crippling headaches. We wondered if it was caused by work stress and booked a GP appointment – only we couldn’t get one for two weeks due to COVID restrictions. One morning, I was at Stu’s place in Cheltenham when he woke up and realised his speech was slurred. “I’m fine,” he insisted, but I was scared he’d had a stroke. After calling 111, we were advised to go immediately to A&E at Gloucester Royal Hospital. Once there, after a CT scan and some tests, we were called into a side room to see a doctor. Stu was fit and healthy and only 39 years old, so I had everything crossed it was nothing. But it was bad news.
“We suspect you have a brain tumour called a glioblastoma,” the doctor said. We were stunned. The doctor explained Stu would need further tests to determine what
kind of tumour it was and how best to treat it. We were told that the tumour was cancerous, and I squeezed Stu’s hand tightly as tears rolled down my face. Over the next two days, Stu stayed in hospital and was put on high-strength steroids to reduce the inflammation on his brain. As I sat by his bedside, Stu got out his phone and Facetimed my mum. He said he had something important to ask her. “I’d like to ask for your blessing to propose to Esther,” he said. Mum and I both gasped. It was a complete surprise! Of course, Mum said yes. She’d loved Stu from the moment she’d
met him. Despite all that was going on, Stu still wanted to propose officially, so at home the next day, he arranged for our families to gather in our local park to witness his proposal. He’d got my grandmother’s ring from my mum, and as he got down on one knee in the snow, I was in floods of tears. “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve been,” he told me before he slid the ring on my finger. It couldn’t have been more beautiful. We all walked up through the park, where we met a random busker who sang Two Little Birds by Bob Marley for us.
Just one week later, we had a video call with a neurosurgeon, who told us Stu’s cancer was incurable, but operable. The neurosurgeon told us that if they operated on Stu, it would be high-risk as the procedure would be seven hours long, but it would be highgain, as it would extend the length of life. The operation was scheduled for 12 February and we’d have to isolate for a week beforehand. Then, after I drove us home from an MRI scan, Stu said, “Let’s just get married now.” I agreed. I couldn’t wait to be his wife, and we knew that after the surgery, Stu would need weeks of chemo and radiotherapy, with many more weeks’ recovery, so this was our time. That evening, we called our families to tell them the plan, and my mum phoned the registry office to book a slot for the Wednesday, just 36 hours later, under special licence. But the next morning, already knee-deep in wedding plans, we got another call from the neurosurgeon. The latest MRI scan showed the tumour had rapidly grown in just eight days and was now into the “midline” of the brain, so surgery was no longer an option. Stu and I hugged each other, completely devastated. Stu didn’t want to know how long he had left, he was determined to keep hopeful. The bleak news made us even more determined to go ahead with the wedding. Just the thought of it had given us a real boost, and our friends and family wanted to help make it possible. My friend Jo had called around various jewellers to get us two beautiful gold bands overnight. My business partner Jess ordered the flowers and a white jumpsuit for me, and Stu already had a suit we both loved. Due to lockdown restrictions, we were limited to just four guests, but other friends and family came to wave us off with balloons as we drove to Stroud registry office. As my dad Chris had passed away from cancer, my stepdad Simon walked me down the aisle, with my mum, Stu’s mum Teresa, and his younger sister Laura there, too. It wasn’t the big wedding that we’d dreamed of, but it was perfect in its own way. Afterwards, we had pictures taken by our friend and photographer Sheryl. It was a magical afternoon and we couldn’t stop smiling. While we’d have loved to have enjoyed a romantic wedding night, I had to drive Stu straight to Southmead Hospital for a biopsy. That confirmed it was a “wild type” grade 4 glioblastoma – the most aggressive and fast-growing tumour type, particularly hard to treat with chemo. By this point, Stu and I had discussed kids again, and we agreed that no matter what happened, we’d turn our dream into a reality. So, in the week before Stu’s chemo and radio started in mid-february, we began the IVF process. Stu wanted everything legally tied up, so we signed documents with a solicitor stating that I could have his kids even if he didn’t make it. We refused to let cancer ruin the future we’d talked about.
Stu’s chemo and radio finished on 26 March, and he seemed to sail through it – by the end, his speech was so much better. But he then started suffering blinding headaches, which doctors suspect was caused by the radiotherapy.
Now, it’s a waiting game to see if the treatment has had any positive effect. Only, we refuse to believe there isn’t more that can be done. After endless research, we’ve found the CEGAT Clinic in Germany, which has shown amazing turnaround stories for those given terminal cancer prognoses after being diagnosed with glioblastoma. We’ve sent a tumour sample to them for DNA sequencing, with the hope of producing an immunopeptide vaccination that will train his immune system to attack the cancer cells. We’ve raised over £55,000 of our £70,000 target so far with the support of friends and family and would love for more people to donate, even a small amount. This really is our only hope of saving Stu, and we are determined to keep fighting.
We’re very excited to have started our IVF journey now, and we know having something to look forward to is vital in helping Stu fight this battle. With the help of a speech therapist, he’s gradually recovering his speech, and he astounds me with his progress. My husband is the bravest, most inspiring person I know and we are making every day count.
● To make a donation to support Stuart, visit Justgiving.com/ crowdfunding/stuart-esther