Beware the Ides of August

I am starting to think August might be my unlucky month.

Last year, on 18 August 2025, I had the seizure that ultimately led to my glioblastoma diagnosis.

Then, on Thursday 6 August 2026, I had what may have been my second seizure.

I say may have been because it was very different from the first one, and there was no evidence that I actually had a fit. But it was obviously concerning all the same.

I’ve been on holiday for the past fortnight, spending a week on the Orkney Islands followed by a week in Shetland. It’s been a fantastic trip, with a pace of life, and weather, very different from that of the South of England.

On Thursday we went for a hike around Eshaness on the west side of Shetland, before stopping at a couple of places on the drive back. We returned to our hotel and had about 90 minutes before we were due to meet for dinner.

I wandered into the centre of Lerwick to buy some presents, then returned to my room and lay back on my bed to relax for a while.

The next thing I remember is around 30 minutes later, when I was standing on the harbour in Lerwick.

I have absolutely no memory of how I got there.

Initially I was completely confused about what had happened. Then I noticed that I was wearing nothing but shorts and a shirt.

And I was barefoot.

Which, given it was 13°C, probably wasn’t my finest decision.

Where Did My Shoes Go?

Slowly, I started to piece together what had probably happened.

I couldn’t remember getting out of bed or walking into town, and I wondered whether I’d had some kind of seizure.

But unlike last time, there was no evidence that I’d had a fit. Apparently I had simply got up, left the hotel and walked into Lerwick as though everything was completely normal.

On the way back to the hotel, a very kind guy called Ryan noticed that something wasn’t quite right. Quite possibly the fact that I was walking around Lerwick barefoot in shorts in 13°C weather gave it away.

He took pity on me and walked me back to my hotel.

So, Ryan, if you read this: thank you!

A Night in Shetland Hospital

I decided it was probably sensible to get myself checked out, so I spent Thursday night in hospital in Shetland.

I ended up with my own room and received excellent care from everyone there, so although it wasn’t quite how I’d planned to spend the evening, I couldn’t have been in better hands.

The outcome was that my daily dose of anti-seizure medication, Keppra, was increased slightly.

Naturally, my first thought was whether this meant the tumour had returned.

But the consultant was quick to point out that there could be any number of explanations. I have scar tissue from the surgery, and the effects of radiotherapy and chemotherapy can persist for some time.

They also carried out various neurological tests and checked my reactions, strength and other functions. Everything was normal, which they said was reassuring.

Now We Wait

Of course, none of that completely stops the mind from going into overdrive.

When you’ve had a glioblastoma, it’s difficult not to interpret every unexplained neurological event through the lens of the disease.

So now I wait.

My next MRI was originally scheduled for later in August, but it has now been brought forward to Tuesday 11 August.

Which means I won’t have to wait too long to find out whether there is anything concerning on the scan.

Hopefully, the MRI will show that everything remains stable and this was simply one of those strange, unexplained events that can happen after brain surgery and treatment.

But until then, I suppose I just have to do what I’ve become increasingly accustomed to over the past year:

wait and see.