I was Charlotte. I was born in Brighton on 18 February 1997. I loved handbags and fashion. I was looking forward to having a career. I was looking forward to getting married and having children. I was looking forward to growing old and enjoying a long and happy retirement. But none of that ever happened. That's why I write about myself in the past. I left this Earth in 2016, when I was just 19 My mother is now raising awareness of brain tumours Every day, she shares my journey and tells my story, so that people can understand what this cruel disease can do. She also set up a charity in my name, helping to fund vital brain tumour research. I wasn't a celebrity. I was simply Charlotte. A daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece and a friend. A young woman who had hopes, dreams and a future that should have been mine. Please RT &  help my mother & brother keep my story alive. charlottesbag.org/ If you would like to support a small, self-funding charity where 100% of your donation goes directly to brain tumour research, please consider popping a pound into Charlotte's Bag.

Charlotte's Brain tumour journey Diagnosis to death: 951 days Age 1918.2.97 - 24.2.16 19 August 2013 Having had her diagnosis of Anaplastic astrocytoma Grade 3 on 16th August 2013 this was the first of many appointments that followed. We arrived at The Marsden for our 1.00 pm appointment. I knew nothing about chemotherapy or radiotherapy, but I had a feeling we were going to learn about them very quickly. I will always remember the ward we were standing in. It was quiet and almost empty. Over the next two and a half years, I would walk past this room time and time again. I had no idea then how familiar it would become. Our consultant came in and stood beside one of the beds, with a clinical nurse nearby. I remember his body language clearly, one hand resting on his chin, his other arm folded across his chest. I asked about radiotherapy. He told us there definitely wouldn't be any. The area involved the brain and spine was too extensive, so the only option would be chemotherapy. We would start with the standard chemotherapy regime. I would later learn that, in order to be offered some of the newer treatments, the tumour generally had to show progression first. We went through to the day-care ward, where Charlotte had a cannula fitted. It was the first of many that would follow. Our consultant decided to start her on PCV chemotherapy Procarbazine, Lomustine and Vincristine. Each cycle would last six weeks. The Vincristine would be administered through the cannula, while the other drugs were taken in tablet form. We left The Marsden carrying an enormous amount of medication, a folder full of telephone numbers, endless instructions about storing the chemotherapy and a medical glossary explaining all the cancer terminology we were suddenly expected to understand. There were also strict instructions about handling the chemotherapy and disposing of the medication boxes and other materials safely. It felt overwhelming. Our world was now to be governed by cancer. That evening, when we arrived home, there was a letter from The Marsden confirming Charlotte's diagnosis. It also said that the prognosis was poor. We had only known for a few days that Charlotte had a brain tumour. Now we were being told that the outlook was poor. I don't think any of us could truly comprehend what those words meant. We were sixteen-year-old Charlotte's family. We were supposed to be worrying about school, exam results, friends and her future. Instead, our lives were already being measured in chemotherapy cycles, hospital appointments, medication and prognosis. And this was only the beginning. Please RT with thanks charlottesbag.org/donate/

From Miles: Having spent 82 hours this month walking, 'tired' might be slightly underselling it. Our walk from Eastbourne and back was 220 miles in total. We somehow managed to add another 20 miles on top of the planned 200 getting to and from the Downs and our accommodation, taking us well over 400,000 steps and more than 8000 metres of ascent and 8000 metres of descent. It was a really tough challenge, and it was mentally demanding. Knowing that every evening we had to get up and do another day of around 18 miles in the heat was not always an easy thought. Whenever things got really tough, we reminded ourselves that we had chosen to do this walk. Charlotte didn't get a choice when she was diagnosed with cancer. That thought helped put our blisters, sore knees, and aching feet into perspective. As did Charlotte's strength and stoicism in facing the gravest of diagnoses. I want to say a huge personal and heartfelt thank you to everyone who has supported us. Your kind words have meant so much they genuinely gave us encouragement and strength when we needed it. Thank you to all who have donated and shared. We are incredibly grateful for your generosity and kindness. Your donations to the charity we founded in Charlotte's name will make a real difference. £4,417 raised so far! Every single penny will go directly to Charlotte's Lab to support vital brain tumour research. All the costs associated with our 200 mile challenge including accommodation, meals and everything else along the way has been personally funded by us. This means 100% of your donations can go towards the research that matters so much to us. There's still time to donate if you would like to support Charlotte's legacy and help us raise awareness of brain tumours. Please RT with thanks. gofundme.com/f/every-mile-fo… charlottesbag.org/donate/