Colette Brolly

@Jopo_dr This was such a hard read having recently lost my sister and her husband to COVID and only now really understanding some of what they went through 💔. Hopefully those still in denial will read your tweets, thanks for all you are doing I’m in awe!

@LucyGoBag Beautiful writing, I’m also in the long middle over five years and whilst difficult it is also the most beautiful space where the present is amplified and my life is truly lived.

I have stage four cancer – there will be no cure, but death isn’t necessarily imminent: this is how it feels to live in the long middle theguardian.com/society/2026/m…

@ProfRAScolyer Sending love and strength from Ireland and St Patrick’s day blessings 🍀

Not the best day ever..... Today I had another scan of my brain followed by further discussions with the neuro-oncology team who continue their wonderful care. There seems to be further progression of my brain tumour (glioblastoma) affecting brain functioning (as me and a few close friends can feel/see). Whilst it is a bit disappointing, in the big picture it's not the end of the road and I’ve got more to do! I love and enjoy challenges. I certainly haven't stopped yet. Hopefully I can share more special times with family and friends, and continue to advocate for cancer patients. #cancer #patients #glioblastoma #braincancer @nthsydhealth @sydneyLHD @COBLH @Sydney_Uni

@philipnolan1 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💚💚💚🏈🏈 brilliant game hope you enjoyed Philip.

Chowder, brown bread, and Guinness 0.0. The day starts here. 😀 #IREvSCO #6Nations #COYBIG

@mikejwhelan So very sorry Michael, rest in peace beautiful Rebecca.

Rebecca Died 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

@John_Dabell How very true are these words, they resonate so much. A brilliant blog John. Sending continued strength and love.

Your steadiness becomes shelter for others. Read more in my blog: johndabell.com/2026/02/18/the…

@gotthegistofit I’m so sorry Chris, I really hope this isn’t the case. I know where you are though, I’m sitting alongside you. Sending much love to you and your family x

There have been many tough moments in the six years since my initial diagnosis. The toughest has been telling our children that my cancer is now progressing quickly and that I might not be here this time next year; it was a conversation Lucy and I both dreaded for a long time.

@Citizen_baker Such a beautiful girl. I’m so sorry for your loss, sincere condolences to all the family

It’s with a heavy heart that I’m writing this, I really don’t know what to write apart from our beautiful daughter Kelsie passed away this morning, I’m absolutely heartbroken and don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by writing this but I need to let everyone know so I can hide away for a couple of days. RIP and finally breathe easy my little girl. #cysticfibrosis

@abcdiagnosis So very sad. Rest in peace beautiful, inspiring lady. Sending love and strength to her family and friends x

It is with enormous sadness that Jo Taylor, an amazing wife and mum passed away peacefully, surrounded by her family at 8:18am on Monday 3rd of November. Please allow her family some privacy to grieve together. #IAmThe31 #BusyLivingWithMets #SecondaryBreastCancer #MetastaticBreastCancer #DarkerPink #DyingForACure

@John_Dabell Thoughts with you and your family John. Keeping you in my prayers, sending strength and love 🙏

In ICU

@John_Dabell Keeping you in my prayers John 🙏

Just saying I'm really not very well at the moment and utterly exhausted. I won't be posting until I have better news or responding to your lovely messages as I have no energy. Apologies but I'm not in a good place.

@DENISEJOHNSTO10 I’m so very sorry for your loss. A beautiful tribute to a beautiful boy 💔

❤️

@gotthegistofit I’m hoping cabozantinib lets me hold on for either of those too? Cabo might be worth pursuing in interim! Scotland is defo the place to be, might see you there 😂

@hazbeen1 There’s a very slim chance I’ll get access to ripretinib or another trial - i’m hoping my liver hangs on long enough for either a trial to come up or for Ripretinib to be signed off in England. Failing that I might move to Scotland 😂😁

Latest scans have been crappy and tumours continue to grow. I’m knackered and anything remotely strenuous is becoming a real struggle. So the weight plates are getting lighter and the walks are getting shorter but we are nowhere close to giving up. Fuck cancer.

@John_Dabell Happiest of birthdays John!

Celebrated my birthday today at Doddington Hall, and we've had a great time. Another milestone!

@gotthegistofit Belated happy birthday Chris 😃

Birthday today. My 46th one on earth and my 6th one with cancer. Somewhere between going strong and hanging on! Fuck cancer! Cheers everyone 🎉

@GaryHooker16 So very sorry to hear this. Gary was a gentleman on Twitter. Rest in peace lovely Gary, sending love to all his family 💔

It is with great sadness to let you all know that after 15 years of fighting Gary sadly passed away peacefully yesterday surrounded by his family. We want to thank you all for your support it meant a lot to him and was a great comfort to him.

@gotthegistofit Sorry you’re finding regorafinib tough Chris, it’s definitely hard getting used to a new treatment x

It has been a tough couple of weeks treatment-wise. Getting used to new medication and changed side effects has been a challenge. It’s my one week treatment break now though so I’ll be mainly acting like a kid loaded up on Haribo Have a cracking weekend everyone ❤️

@mikejwhelan So heartbreaking but what a wordsmith you are, I can feel your emotions deeply. Sending strength and prayers 🙏

THE DAY SHE COULDN'T DRAW A CLOCK From the memoir-in-progress by Michael J. Whelan The technician handed Rebecca a piece of paper and gave her what should have been a simple task. “Draw a clock,” he said gently. “Put the numbers where they belong, just like a regular clock face.” That was it. That was the entire request. Twelve numbers in a circle. Something every child learns before kindergarten. Something she had done a thousand times in her life—without thinking. But she looked at the paper like it had betrayed her. Like the page itself had turned on her. Her brow tightened. Her hand trembled. And then she looked over at me, her eyes pleading, confused, terrified. Help me please, she said without speaking. I wanted to reach across the table and erase the whole moment from existence. I wanted to tell the technician to forget it, to skip this part, to let her keep whatever dignity she had left. But I didn’t move. I sat there frozen, hoping—praying—this was just a fluke. She lowered her head and began to draw. What followed was a nightmare I hadn’t prepared for. She scratched a jagged circle, wobbly and lopsided. Then, hesitantly, she placed a “12” at the bottom of the page. Not the top. Next came a “3” somewhere on the left. A “6” floated above that. A “9” was squeezed into a corner like it didn’t want to be seen. The rest of the numbers were missing. Or written over each other. Or reversed. Some were upside down. Some weren’t even numbers at all. She didn’t even attempt the hands. It was chaos. It wasn’t a clock. It was heartbreak in ink. And I swear to God, I felt something inside me die. I remember the woman who once planned our entire year on a kitchen calendar by memory. The woman who balanced our budget in her head. The woman who could tell time not just by the hour, but by the light outside our window. My golf partner who could keep my score without a scorecard. Now… she couldn’t remember where the numbers go on a clock. And what made it worse—what made it unbearable—was how hard she was trying. Her lips moved silently, counting something. Her fingers tapped the table like she was summoning a memory just out of reach. I could see the war inside her. She was losing. And she knew it. Then I made it worse. I told her to focus. I told her she knew this. That it was easy. That she could do it if she just concentrated. Her face crumpled. Her eyes welled up. And then she cried. Because it wasn’t just a test. It wasn’t just a clock. It was a mirror. And in that moment, she saw what was slipping away. And I—her husband, her protector, her caregiver—became the one who pushed too hard. I let my fear become a fist. Not against her—but against the helplessness. The disease. The grief. But she was the one who got hit. I held her afterward. Whispered apologies. Promised I’d do better. Promised I’d be softer. She forgave me, like she always does. But I haven’t forgiven myself. Because this is what these diseases do. They steal the mind. Then the memories. Then the person. And along the way, they break the hearts of the ones who are left watching. I will keep trying. I will learn to whisper when I want to shout. I will hold her even as time tries to take her from me. Because even if she forgets how to place the hours… I will never forget a single moment of who she is. Not for one second. Not ever.

@Thehullboy1 @MindCharity Wow, wow, wow so well done 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

THE YOUNGEST PERSON AND FIRST UNDER 18 TO RUN THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF THE UK🫡 £111,000 Raised for @mindcharity 1347KM Ran (837 miles) 1 car crash and 2 of the most difficult but greatest months of my life. I’m an emotional mess tonight but I just want to say, no matter how dark a place you are in. It can and WILL get better. 2 years ago I was in the darkest place in my life, 2 years later we have made history. Thank you to everyone who believed in me. I love you all very much. I’ll do a post when I’m able to process what’s just happened. MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS ❤️