My Journey Back to Singing
In June 2022, my life changed unexpectedly.
Following a sudden decline in vision in my right eye, I was rushed to hospital with suspected brain swelling around my optic nerve. An MRI the following day revealed that, rather than swelling, there was a large tumour on my pituitary gland. I was formally diagnosed with a brain tumour on 3 June 2022.
The tumour, a prolactinoma, was believed to have been growing slowly for much of my life and had even reshaped parts of my skull. Thankfully, it was benign and not cancerous. However, its size and position meant that swift treatment was necessary.
A Sudden Change
The following weeks were a complete rollercoaster of emotions for my partner, family and me.
After consulting a neurosurgeon, we were initially told that conventional surgery would be extremely complicated and could have required several major procedures followed by intensive rehabilitation. We began looking at radiation treatment as an alternative.
With my family in South Africa and my father in Dubai, we sought a second opinion from the Neural and Spinal Hospital in Dubai. Within an incredibly short space of time, arrangements were made for me to travel to Dubai for treatment. The doctors there offered CyberKnife radiation - a highly precise form of radiation treatment that uses linear acceleration to target the tumour.
The speed at which everything happened was almost impossible to process. From diagnosis to completing treatment, only two weeks had passed. Reflecting on that time is a complete blur.
On one hand, I was completely amazed by the technology. I could barely comprehend that something so precise and futuristic actually existed - at times, it genuinely felt like something from Star Trek. On the other hand, I was struggling to understand the reality that this was happening to me.
I felt confused, frightened and strangely detached from the situation. I experienced sudden and severe panic attacks, and the combination of everything happening medically and personally made this an incredibly difficult period.
Following treatment, I was placed on high-dose steroids to manage swelling and protect against complications. The side effects were significant. I gained a considerable amount of weight in a very short period of time, experienced severe acne, exhaustion and headaches, and felt increasingly disconnected from my own body.
At the time, though, I kept reminding myself that these were temporary challenges. I had been given an opportunity to treat the tumour without undergoing the major surgery I had initially been facing, and I was incredibly grateful for that.
July 2022 — Prague
One of the strangest parts of this entire experience is how quickly I was expected to return to normal life.
I completed my treatment on 18 June 2022 and, just two days later, flew to Prague to begin rehearsals for Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro at the Prague Summer Nights Music Festival.
My doctors were adamant that I should continue with life as planned following treatment. Looking back, I am incredibly grateful that they encouraged me to do so.
Being surrounded by the wonderful people at the festival gave me something else to focus on and reminded me of who I was outside of my diagnosis. I went on to make my debut at the historic Estates Theatre in Prague as Contessa Almaviva.
It was an extraordinary experience but behind the performance, I was beginning to realise that my relationship with my body and my voice had changed.
Finding My Way Back
After Prague, I moved to Dubai and began working as a music teacher while continuing with regular medical check-ups.
This was when I really began to notice how much I had lost control of my voice.
Singing had always felt instinctive to me. I had spent years learning how to use my body as my instrument, but suddenly that connection wasn't there in the same way. I knew intellectually how I was supposed to sing, but my body wasn't always responding as I expected.
I was also experiencing a strange disconnection from my body's signals more generally. I constantly felt as though I was starving because my body seemed unable to tell my brain that I had eaten, regardless of how much food I consumed.
It was an incredibly frustrating and unfamiliar experience.
Rather than giving up singing altogether, I decided to join a community choir in Dubai. It became an important part of my recovery. It gave me somewhere to sing without the pressure of having to prove anything and, perhaps just as importantly, helped me build a support system in a new country.
January 2023 — Learning to Sing Again
I distinctly remember the first day the medication began to wear off and I felt genuinely full for the first time in months.
Around the same time, I began consciously rebuilding my singing technique.
I started with lighter repertoire, particularly Lieder and soubrette arias, including Susanna from Le nozze di Figaro. It was humbling to go back to fundamentals, but I was able to draw on all of the pedagogical knowledge I had gained throughout my musical training.
I knew how I should use my body to sing. The challenge was learning how to make that knowledge work with my new physical reality.
In many ways, I had to learn to sing again.
Living With the Consequences
My recovery has not simply been about my voice.
During my regular check-ups, it became clear that the tumour had severely affected my optic nerve. I have permanent damage to my eyesight and continue to struggle particularly with seeing in low light. Even with strong prescription contact lenses, my vision is not what it once was.
The damage is irreversible, but I am incredibly grateful that I can still see.
My medical care has remained an important part of my life, with regular appointments involving my neurosurgeon, ophthalmologist and endocrinologist. They continue to monitor the tumour, my eyesight and my hormone levels. Any sudden changes will alter my future.
2024 — Finding Confidence Again
By January 2024, I was beginning to feel much more confident in my singing.
It had taken a long time to feel as though I was approaching my old level again, but something had changed. I stopped thinking purely about getting back to the singer I had been before treatment and began thinking about what I could achieve as the singer I was becoming.
In June 2024, I performed my first public solo concert since my
treatment, singing repertoire including Zerlina, Pamina and Violetta.
It was one of the greatest joys I had experienced in years.
That performance reignited something in me. I realised just how much I had missed performing — not simply singing, but the experience of standing on stage, connecting with an audience and telling a story through music.
The stage is where I feel most alive, and it reminded me that this was where I wanted to spend my time.
2025 — Accepting a New Reality
By 2025, my regular scans showed that the tumour had not shrunk, but importantly, it had not grown.
Coming to terms with the fact that the tumour will never completely disappear was devastating. For a long time, I had hoped that one day I would simply be told that it was gone.
Instead, I have had to learn that it will remain with me for the rest of my life and that regular monitoring will simply become part of my future.
That acceptance has not always been easy, but it has changed the way I think about my life and my singing.
I also began working with a new singing teacher, continuing to develop my technique and work towards a return to professional performance.
2026 — A New Chapter
By 2026, my medical check-ups had moved from every six months to annually. There have been small changes in the tumour that continue to be monitored, while my eyesight remains particularly challenging in low-light environments. My hormone levels are stable, although these continue to require regular monitoring.
At the same time, something incredibly exciting was happening professionally.
My return to singing was becoming real.
In 2026, I joined the chorus for Bizet's Carmen at Dubai Opera, returned to recording arias and began exploring heavier repertoire, including music by Verdi and Weber.
After everything that had happened, standing on a professional stage again felt like much more than another performance.
It felt like a part of my life that I had fought incredibly hard to reclaim. What makes this return even more meaningful to me is that Carmen was the first production I returned to. Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante was the first aria I sang after my diagnosis, and I don't believe in coincidences. To find myself back on stage in Carmen, years later, was incredibly moving. I will admit, there were tears in my eyes as I stood on that stage and heard the aria sung so beautifully. It felt like one of those rare moments where you realise just how far you have come.
“Protégez-moi! O Seigneur!” (Protect me! O Lord!) will forever have a different meaning to me.
Still Singing
I don't think this journey is about returning to exactly the singer I was before 2022.
It is about discovering the singer I can be now.
My body has changed. My eyesight has changed. My voice has changed. My relationship with singing has changed.
But my love for it hasn't.
If anything, I appreciate performing more deeply than I ever did before. I know what it feels like to wonder whether you will ever sing the way you
once did, and I know what it feels like to stand on stage again after believing that part of your life might be over.
The tumour is still part of my life. I still have regular check-ups. I still have challenges that I cannot simply overcome through determination.
But I am still singing.
And I am incredibly grateful for that.
There is still so much I want to sing, so many roles I want to explore and so many stages I hope to stand on.
This isn't a story about everything going back to the way it was. It is a story about finding my way forward.