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DUK10133430_004
SCHICKSALE - Unheilbarer Hirntumor: Werdende Mutter muss mit der schrecklichen Diagnose fertig werden
Katie Wilkinson (Collect/ PA Real Life) *** Mum-to-be plagued by headaches and a strange
metallic smell heartbroken to be diagnosed with an
incurable brain tumour the size of two golf balls
By Laura Withers, PA Real Life
Weeks after accompanying her GP husband on a placement to Italy with their children, a
heavily pregnant mum was told she had a malignant brain tumour "the size of two golf
balls" and that her baby had to be induced "for its own safety."
When stay-at-home mum Katie Galan-Wilkinson, 35, started waking in the night at 32
weeks pregnant with severe headaches and a weird metallic smell in her nostrils, she
thought her symptoms were caused by anxiety, as she was approaching her due date for
baby Mario, now one, and abroad with her young family.
But, at 39 weeks, she suffered a serious seizure in her sleep, prompting her terrified
husband, Daniel, 36, to have her blue-lighted to hospital, where a series of tests revealed
she had stage three anaplastic astrocytoma - a rare and incurable type of brain tumour.
Less than 24 hours later, with the prospect of death looming over her, Katie - also mum to
Sofia, five, and Hugo, three - was told that, for her baby's safety she needed to be
induced, bringing little Mario into the world, weighing 6lbs 2oz on June 5, 2019 - a week
early.
Katie, of Somerset, said: "Within 48 hours I'd gone from believing I was just stressed out
to having a seizure and being told I had a brain tumour the size of two golf balls.
"Then, to be told I had to have my baby there and then was awful. I know it sounds
strong, but I felt violated - like I was being forced to have my baby.
"When Mario arrived, I sobbed with grief and utter devastation, as this beautiful moment
had been stolen by my brain tumour. His birth was overshadowed by my tumour and I felt
overwhelmed with guilt.
"There were no joyous phone calls to friends and family to say my little one had arrived.
Instead, it was all about my tumour and I fel *
(c) Dukas