When a Brain Tumour Strikes a Child: A Surgeon's Story

Last week, a family walked into my clinic carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. They were seeking a second opinion for their 10-year-old daughter, who had recently suffered two seizures.

An MRI from another hospital had shown a tumour on the left side of her brain. We immediately arranged for a new, more detailed scan. The results confirmed my fears: the tumour was not just present; it was changing, growing more aggressive. I suspected it was transforming into a high-grade, malignant tumour—a dangerous growth that was, in a very real sense, eating her brain alive.

We had to have one of the most difficult conversations a doctor can have with a family.

I sat with them and laid out the choice, a choice no parent should ever have to face. Without surgery, her life expectancy might be as short as six months. With surgery—a high-risk procedure, as the tumour was located in the dominant hemisphere of her brain—we could potentially give her another two years of life after the necessary chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

If she were just a few years older, I would have performed an awake craniotomy, allowing me to map her brain functions in real-time. At her age, that wasn’t an option. The risks were significant.

We also spoke about the cost, a tremendous burden. But I reminded them of a simple truth: you can always find money, but you only have one life. Seeing their resolve, they placed their complete trust in my hands, a responsibility that is always humbling.

The day of the surgery, the operating theatre was a symphony of focused expertise and advanced technology. We embarked on a four-hour procedure: a left temporal lobectomy, amygdala resection, and a careful sparring of the hippocampus to preserve as much of her memory function as possible.

We threw everything we had at it. The room was packed with equipment and a dedicated team, including two anaesthetists. We used image-guided surgery for pinpoint accuracy, continuous motor cortex monitoring, EMG, and phase reversal to safeguard her neurological function with every move I made.

Alhamdulillah, the surgery went smoothly. We achieved a gross total resection—removing all visible traces of the tumour—without any new neurological deficit.

The true victory, however, came the next day. I walked into her room to find her sitting up, speaking clearly, eating, and even getting up to walk to the toilet on her own. The wave of relief that washed over her parents was a moment I will not soon forget.

One battle is over, but her journey continues. She now begins six weeks of chemotherapy and radiotherapy, the next critical phase in her fight. Her courage is a profound reminder of why we do what we do—for children like her, and for families who choose hope in the face of impossible odds.