'Four years after the cervical cancer surgeries, they found a tumour on my adrenal gland, a different cancer'

Violinist Aoife Ní Bhriain tells Helen O’Callaghan how, following 10 years of adverse life events, including two different cancers, she finally decided enough was enough: she was getting on with life — without fear

Aoife Ní Bhriain: 'I was in my early 30s, and I’d already been diagnosed with cervical cancer in my 20s. They’d taken my cervix and all my pelvic lymph nodes.'

Waking up Christmas Eve 2024 in the critical care unit of the Royal Marsden Hospital, Chelsea, a tumour on my adrenal gland and the adrenal gland itself had been removed. Thinking: it’s finally over, the dark cloud hanging over my head has finally lifted, I could get on with life again.

I was in my early 30s, and I’d already been diagnosed with cervical cancer in my 20s. They’d taken my cervix and all my pelvic lymph nodes.

The cervical cancer was HPV-related, so they had to keep checking for HPV. We were coming up to the five years and they said: “We have to keep you on a bit longer’. I was constantly being monitored.

Four years after the cervical cancer surgeries, they found the tumour on my adrenal gland, a different cancer altogether. They’d seen it at the beginning of the cervical cancer journey, just a benign nodule then, usually nothing to worry about — this one grew to a size that wasn’t safe to leave in my body.

Aoife Ní Bhriain: 'I’d had glandular fever, broken my elbow, lost my grandfather to suicide — completely out-of-character for him, none of the usual circumstances you’d expect with that kind of departure.'

Spotted in a routine MRI scan, it would ultimately have killed me. These tumours are rare and so hard to detect, a silent killer. In a way, the cervical cancer saved my life.

The adrenal gland processes stress — I was asked in hospital whether there was anything in the last few years that could have caused stress. I burst out laughing — it had been permanent stress, a crazy 10 years up to then!

I’d had glandular fever, broken my elbow, lost my grandfather to suicide — completely out-of-character for him, none of the usual circumstances you’d expect with that kind of departure.

Almost a year to the day, my father’s best friend died. He’d been an amazing support after my grandfather’s suicide, particularly in getting my dad to talk.

I’d had a relationship break-up. I’d got a full scholarship to Boston and the teacher I wanted to study under dropped dead. I got a job in the West End, then tore my LCL, and could barely walk. I couldn’t seem to catch a break.

Aoife Ni Bhriain and Olesya Zdorovetska will appear in episode two of Cara sa Cheol Series on TG4.

And then cervical cancer. And realising my childbearing prospects were much diminished, my immune system devastated. Then covid. And my job as a self-employed musician... you’re in fight-or-flight mode a lot of the time.

I needed to have the surgery for the adrenal tumour before Christmas. It was scheduled for November. I said: “I’m too busy with work.” 

I didn’t want this getting in the way of my life; it had to fit in, not dictate. I called the theatre manager and asked when is the latest I can have this surgery before Christmas? December 23.

Anyone who’s had a run-in with cancer will know every time you go into hospital, you’re thinking has it come back? A horrible place to be — nervousness, never knowing what they’ll say next. It takes up huge space in your head.

And you don’t realise you’re stressed until you feel the relief. So when I woke that Christmas Eve, I thought, ‘I’m so done with this’. I didn’t want to feel under pressure anymore. I just wanted to shed it like an old coat.

I decided I’m not giving this the brain space anymore, I’m done. Some 50% of the population will get cancer; we have to live with it, not live in fear of it.

Aoife Ní Bhriain: 'In a way, the cervical cancer saved my life.' Picture: Anna McGrane

Waking up that morning, I thought, ‘Jesus, what could possibly go wrong now, what in God’s name could possibly come for me next? It has to be over’. I just decided this was it, I’m not going to allow this dark cloud of questioning hang over me anymore, I’m getting out of here today.

I set myself a challenge — to walk out of there, get a taxi home, wake in my own bed on Christmas Day. I knew I could tick the boxes — no morphine, manage to eat something, and get to the bathroom on my own. If I could tick those they’d have no reason to keep me.

I got out that day. There was a lot to come to terms with. I’d told myself it was a benign tumour — post-surgery, I found out it was cancerous, grade three out of four, well on the way to causing me problems.

I had to come to terms with… probably not going to have kids. So what do I prioritise in life, what do I put my energy into?

Four weeks after getting out of the hospital, I did a full concert. I’m a perfectionist, but kept telling myself it doesn’t have to be perfect, you just have to do it. That was really helpful. If someone said years ago that I’d go through all I did, I’d have thrown my violin at the wall.

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And if they’d said: “But in 10 years, you’re going to wake up after surgery for a second cancer and you’ll find a way to say, ‘Oh that was a wild chapter’,” I wouldn’t have believed them, I’d have thought I’d have tapped out long before.

But I’ve always had resilience. I know now I’m someone who can get back up again — I’ve never not gotten back up.

• Cara sa Cheol, a new six-part documentary series on TG4, explores creative collaboration between Irish language artists and musicians from Ireland’s New Irish and immigrant communities. Episode two, featuring Aoife Ní Bhriain and Ukrainian-born composer Olesya Zdorovetska, airs on May 3. The series is produced by Setanta Films for TG4, with support from Coimisiún na Meán.