Discovering My Boyfriend Had Brain Cancer
“There are no words to describe the shock of being told your loved one has cancer. And to have it happen just days before Christmas made it even more surreal.
I met my first serious boyfriend, Jake, at a local café while I was on a break from school. His striking blue eyes and infectious sense of humor drew me in instantly. We exchanged numbers, started dating, and quickly became inseparable. For about a year and a half, life felt full of promise and simple joys—until tragedy struck.
One night, not long after we had fallen asleep, I was jolted awake by Jake hitting me in the back. He was having a seizure. Panic set in as we called an ambulance, and he was rushed to the hospital. The following day, I heard the words no one wants to hear: “It’s a brain tumor.”
At just 24 years old, Jake was diagnosed with brain cancer. The surgeon explained that a tumor the size of a fist was pushing his brain to one side and needed immediate removal. On Christmas Eve 2013, he underwent surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible. Until that moment, there had been no warning signs—no headaches, blurred vision, or pain. Nothing hinted at the life-threatening battle ahead.
The surgery went well, and soon Jake was back on his feet. He returned to university part-time to pursue a second degree in Business Law. We even welcomed a little puppy, Elzee, a dream we had postponed because of his diagnosis.
Unless you were told, you could never tell Jake was sick. But the sense of normalcy was fleeting. Not long after, the tumor began to grow again. For three years, the same cruel cycle repeated: shrink, pause, regrow—each recurrence more aggressive than the last.
Eventually, the tumor returned as a Glioblastoma Multiforme—the deadliest form of brain cancer. By this point, we had heard countless life expectancy predictions, but nothing prepared us for the devastating news: Jake had roughly six to twelve months left.
Losing My Boyfriend to Brain Cancer
I clung to the hope that he would make it to the end of the year, so we could share one last Christmas together. He didn’t. Over the course of his illness, Jake underwent two more surgeries, numerous rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, and countless oncology appointments. He tried everything the doctors recommended, but eventually, there was nothing more they could do.
I tried to prepare myself by researching everything online, but no article or guide could have prepared me for the reality of losing him. He repeatedly urged me to leave, to find someone who could give me the life he never could. Each time, I refused.
Glioblastoma is merciless. Within weeks, Jake weakened rapidly. He deferred from university, and even simple activities—like walking Elzee—became impossible. Gradually, he lost movement: first his left side, then he required a walking frame, a wheelchair, and eventually a hospital bed in his bedroom. He would sometimes forget who I was or confuse me with someone else.
I lived a thousand little deaths during that time, but one memory will always remain: when he tried to grab my hand and whispered, “Make it end now, please.” After that, he never left the bed again. Paralyzed from the neck down and unable to speak, he slipped into a nine-day coma and passed peacefully just after midnight on Saturday, October 22, 2016. He was 27 years old. We had been together for just under five years.
Remembering Jake
Watching Jake succumb to brain cancer was like losing him twice—first his mind, his personality, his humor, and then, months later, his physical body. No words can capture the pain of witnessing someone you love endure that.
Despite everything, Jake rarely complained. He refused to let his prognosis define his life. He kept his smile, his humor, and his selflessness. The grief I faced afterward came with vivid, haunting flashbacks, brain fog, forgetfulness, insomnia, and an appetite that vanished. Some days felt like progress; others felt like five steps backward. Slowly, I moved forward with the support of family, close friends, and our dog, Elzee.
I couldn’t change Jake’s outcome, but I could control what I did next. Learning that brain cancer is underfunded, with survival rates barely improved in decades, motivated me to act.
Starting My Etsy Shop to Raise Brain Cancer Awareness
I turned my grief into a mission. Drawing on my marketing experience, I launched an Etsy store and Instagram page called “Pearl Meets Crystal,” selling handmade Swarovski jewelry. Jewelry had been a passion of mine since childhood, and creating pieces helped me channel my emotions. Within a week, I received my first order.
The response was overwhelming. To date, I’ve raised over $12,000, with bracelets traveling internationally every other week. All profits go to the Brain Cancer Foundation, not to me. Media outlets, newspapers, and soon an Australian magazine have featured my story.
Months before Jake passed, I decided I would never date again, having lived a lifetime’s worth of love, joy, and heartbreak in five years. My focus remained on healing, work, and my business.
Dating After Loss
Two and a half years later, the universe intervened. I met someone at an Italian restaurant—Richard, with warm brown eyes, a kind smile, and a great sense of humor. Fear, guilt, panic, and excitement all washed over me. Yet I knew this was normal for someone moving forward after loss.
Our first date was at the movies, and driving home, I felt proud of myself. It wasn’t as terrifying as I imagined. By our third or fourth date, I shared my past—the hardest story I’ve ever told. Dating after tragic loss is uniquely challenging, but Richard’s patience and understanding helped me navigate it.
Now, we’ve been together for almost two years and are engaged. Every day, I still carry the fear of losing someone again, but it’s a relief to finally share a life untethered from brain cancer.
Almost five years after Jake’s death, I remain as motivated as ever to create jewelry that raises awareness and supports this cause—honoring him in every piece I make.”
