Three years on and her mum has accepted that the matter-of-fact delivery was ‘just how Kellie is’ and that she was dealing with the devastating diagnosis in her own way.
Kellie, meanwhile, says she simply didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, but knew that her family were waiting for news from her appointment.
And in the many months since then, the 31-year-old has continued to deal with all that life has thrown at her in the same mellow yet determined way.
‘I am a single mum with a brain tumour and a business, and all these other illnesses, and I can do it,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t mean that everyone can or has to, and I wouldn’t look down on anyone who couldn’t [cope]. There is nobody like me and there is nobody like you, but I would like people to be mindful that everybody has a life going on that the rest of us do not always know about.’
Kellie, who has spoken out to raise awareness of her condition and the plight of those suffering with long-term illnesses more generally, added: ‘I am quite lucky I have always been very mellow, I have always taken things in my stride, which is maybe, on reflection, because I had this tumour and I have had to. Maybe my body has tuned itself to just not get worked up so much because it can’t handle stress.’
Her story begins like those of many young Jersey people. A bright, bubbly teenager, she finished her GCSEs then completed her A-levels – both at Hautlieu – and went on to University in Kent. But it is there that the similarities with most Islanders’ younger years are likely to end.
Because by the end of her first year studying for a drama and theatre studies degree, Kellie had become so ill with the mumps that she was forced to quit the course.
In fact, when she got off the plane at Jersey Airport having packed up her room in her halls of residence for the last time, her mum thought she was on drugs because she looked so unwell.
And her health never quite recovered from there.
‘Whenever I would go to the doctor about one thing, they found another thing,’ she said.
The years passed and her health problems continued to the point where Kellie – who now knows that as well as the brain tumour she suffers from the widespread pain condition fibromyalgia, the skin condition Lichen Sclerosus and endometriosis – eventually realised she could not cope with a full-time job.
She was regularly phoning in sick, was forced out of one job and then had to give up another at an opticians after realising that she simply could not cope with being on her feet, or escorting customers up and down stairs, all day.
On top of this, after successfully completing a diploma in administration via a States scheme, Kellie had her dream job offer withdrawn at the last minute because of her absence record.
‘I think people just thought I was being a diva,’ she said. ‘My employer had to get a special screen for my computer monitor so that the light wasn’t so bright and coloured acetate to put over the paper in front of me so I could see it properly.
‘I had blurred vision, but it is really hard to explain. When you look at those pictures with dots on for ages, then they tell you to look away and the dots are still there, it was like that but all the time. It looked like there was glitter everywhere all the time – especially when I was out in the sunshine.
‘But the fatigue was the worst symptom, I was always knackered. I was always sick and getting infections all the time. I’d get a cold and get rid of that, then I’d get a stomach bug, then I’d get some kind of infection.’
By 2014, Kellie, who recalls being told by one employer that although her work was excellent she was a ‘liability rather than an asset’ because of her attendance record, was working as a medical secretary at Overdale. Determined not to need to claim benefits, she was working just enough hours each week to support herself while managing her symptoms, which doctors had put down to different illnesses over the years.
‘I’d felt crap for ages and it took ages for it to be taken seriously,’ she said. ‘One minute I was told I was having migraines, the next I had chronic fatigue, it felt like for ages it was brushed off – it was horrendous.’
Ironically she was working in the neurology department and, as she was au fait with the medical terms used within the department and the symptoms patients were reporting, she suspected that she might have MS.
‘I was seeing the neurologist for headaches. One day while I was in their office I was talking to her and my face went completely numb and started going pink. She thought I had cellulitis [a bacterial skin infection] at first and was trying to work out where it was coming from.’
Eventually, an MRI scan was ordered, but it was only after being recalled for a pituitary specific scan that the diagnosis was official – Kellie had a brain tumour.
‘By then I was expecting it, I kind of knew it was coming,’ she said. ‘The doctor basically read it out word for word knowing that I knew the medical terminology.’
It was then that Kellie sent her mum a text message to tell her the news.
‘When you get news like that you don’t want to call people and talk about it,’ she said. ‘I knew I had to tell my mum and my sister, but I didn’t want to talk about it.
‘My boyfriend at the time met me after work and I remember saying to him “I do have that tumour by the way”.
‘I remember saying to him “it isn’t a big deal, it is like a cyst”.’
Kellie’s tumour is known as a microadenoma, an 8 mm benign tumour in her pituitary gland, at the base of her brain, which regulates hormones.
It has not grown since it was discovered, but there is no cure and doctors rarely operate on such tumours under one cm, above which size they are classed as macroadenoma.
Instead, the tumour, which is also pressing on Kellie’s optic nerve, is monitored and Kellie takes a cocktail of drugs to help control her many symptoms and to supplement the hormones that the growth is interfering in the production of. She says the effect of the tumour is best described as a collection of illnesses that other people suffer from, but not usually all together.
Her medication includes drugs to help her thyroid function properly and to counteract a condition known as adrenal insufficiency, which means her body cannot naturally produce enough of the cortisol hormone to deal with stress.
In severe situations of stress or trauma, people who do not produce enough cortisol can go into ‘crisis’ and, if not treated, end up in a coma and, in severe situations, they can die.
Doctors believe that Kellie’s tumour had probably been growing throughout her 20s, perhaps even earlier.
‘It is called a brain tumour because it is in the skull, but it is not brain tissue, so there is quite a lot of debate over whether it is a brain tumour or not, not that it really matters,’ said Kellie, who since being diagnosed has also had to cope with the stress of her relationship breaking down.
And, when talking about her type of tumour, she sums it up simply by saying: ‘Mine’s a b*****d’.
By that she means that a number of its effects are rare and extreme.
She was also told it would mean she could probably not have children. A few months after the diagnosis, therefore, she was shocked to discover she was pregnant with her daughter, Athena, who is now two-and-a-half.
The pregnancy was hard and stressful and complicated by her medical conditions, and her labour was traumatic. But today when Kellie, who is a member of online support groups for people with tumours like hers, talks about Athena, her eyes sparkle.
‘She is such a peach,’ she said. ‘She was sleeping through the night from very early on and she really does make being her mum easy because she’s really clever – she’s awesome.’
It is partly because of Athena that Kellie has found the strength and motivation recently to start her own business, Fitpro Assistant, a virtual administration service that works mainly with personal trainers and those in the fitness industry to provide what is effectively freelance admin services. Her business model means she can work when she is able to, on her terms and from home. She is just two months in, but business is going well and Kellie has a modest aim – to get off income support once again.
She’d also like to earn enough money to take her little girl on holiday to Butlins.
‘Looking to the future, I want to build up my business so that I don’t need to be on income support,’ she said. ‘I hope that my tumour doesn’t grow to the point that they need to take it out, but if they do, then they will. And I want to take Athena on holiday.’
Kellie also wants Athena to grow up to be her own strong woman, capable of coping with whatever life throws at her.
‘I just want her to be happy and to know she can do whatever she wants to do, even if she is on her own.’
