Personal Profile

TUESDAY 15TH AUGUST 2023

Hi, my name's Tom. Join me as I embark upon a journey through my life, covering the highs and lows that have brought me to where I am today.

Early Life

In 1998, at Pontefract General Infirmary, my mother was given her due date. The midwife told her that it had come out as the first of April, but she was going to record it as the second instead, so as not to tempt fate. But alas, I arrived on April fools day regardless. Looking back on it now, perhaps that should have been seen as an omen of what was to come, but really all it meant was that whenever anyone asked for my birthday, they didn't believe me when I told them. It also opened me up to a barrage of pranks, though thankfully these have largely subsided as I (and I guess everyone around me) have grown up. I also had pneumonia when I was 3 months old, and although I, of course, have no memory of this, I still feel the effects of it today. I was treated as asthmatic, and used beclomethasone and salbutamol inhalers daily, right up until 2005.

In October 2005, after much investigation and a mis-diagnosis, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. As a seven year old, I didn't really comprehend how serious it actually was. I guess I just took it in my stride, and after months out of school, chemotherapy and losing all my hair, in February 2006, I was in remission. I'm not sure if this is still the case, but at the time we were told that with cancer, they're not supposed to use the word "cured", but that if you're in remission continuously for five years, you're considered to be "effectively cured", which means you're no more likely to develop the cancer again than someone that's never had it. It was also found, throughout the course of diagnosing and treating the lymphoma, that actually I didn't have asthma. Rather, there was a section of my lung that was, for all intents and purposes, dead. What this meant was that I would have reduced lung function for the rest of my life, but also that the damaged section would stay the same size, whereas the rest of my lungs would grow around it, meaning that it would have less and less effect on me as I got older. I've certainly found this to be the case, but I never let it hold me back anyway. I played football for a local team, and I also swam competitively, and while I could, on the whole, keep up with my peers, I found that I always tired faster. In particular, I remember that when swimming front crawl, others in my age group would take a breath every three strokes, whereas I could only manage two. I was able to make up for this with my technical proficiency, and I competed in several competitions, and had I been more dedicated perhaps I could have gone further.

Education

&

Setbacks

From as early as primary school, academic success came naturally to me. I did well in my SATs, and was in the top set for all subjects at high school. Despite putting practically no effort in, I managed 4 As, 6 Bs, a merit and two passes in my GCSEs, and went on to college. Perhaps because of the grades I'd achieved at school, I ignored the warnings given by the teachers at college about how big of a step up A Levels are from GCSEs. This hubris, coupled with a difficult relationship that I was in at the time, meant that I bombed in my exams, leaving college with two grade Es in English and Physics. As such, my options were fairly limited, and so I enrolled for a physics degree with a foundation year. I convinced myself that, since I'd already done A levels, I would be able to breeze through the foundation year without really trying, and then once my first year started I'd pull my finger out. Predictably, this didn't end well, and I failed to progress past the foundation year. I resat, and surely now I'd learned my lesson, right? Sigh.

Of course not. My logic was that since I'd already sat the foundation year, I'd be able cruise through at the second time of asking. What's the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. To the surprise of no one, I failed again, and so withdrew from university. Over the summer I'd been working a temporary job in a warehouse, and at the end of the contract I was offered a permanent position. Given that I wouldn't be returning to university, I accepted. The job wasn't too bad; I was good at it, and the pay was decent since I worked nights and I was able to earn bonus. However, after a few months, I began to realise that this wasn't what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Physically, the job was taking its toll on me. Working nights, coupled with my Tuesday to Saturday shift pattern, meant that is was practically impossible for me to have a social life, and even on the days I had off, because of my sleep pattern I found it difficult to get anything meaningful done. I decided that I wanted more than this, and so after much deliberation I decided to go back and try one more time at university. This time, I was much more motivated, and the results were obvious. I passed the foundation year relatively easily since I was actually devoting my time and energy to my studies. Things were going well, but then everything got flipped upside down.

In 2020, I contracted glandular fever. Now, for most people, this wouldn't be a problem. The virus that causes it, the Epstein-Barr Virus, is incredibly common, and most people catch it at some point in their lives. Typically, you might be unwell for a couple of weeks with high temperatures, exhaustion, a sore throat and swollen lymph nodes in your neck, but the symptoms typically clear up after this and have no long lasting effects. However, in my case,