At 33 years old, Brandon’s story reads like something out of a film—raw, chaotic, tragic, and ultimately, inspiring. Born and raised in Bury, his life was anything but easy. A rough upbringing led to homelessness by age 17. Seeking structure and escape, Brandon joined the army but left just shy of two years in. It wasn’t what he hoped for.
When he was discharged from the army, he was left on the streets. With little support, Brandon ended up sleeping in a sleeping bag in a field in the middle of Salford, getting a bed just two nights a week in a homeless shelter.
He bounced between jobs and eventually moved down south, where he started a family. But the relationship became emotionally abusive, ending in a painful custody battle that left him without access to his children. Just as life began to steady with a promising new job, tragedy struck. A close friend’s father died of a heart attack in front of him, and just two months later, his own father passed away.
Struggling with grief and emotional turmoil, Brandon started taking drugs to help numb the pain. He was working long hours and struggling with the work-life balance, isolated due to Covid. “I used drugs to help me stay awake and go to sleep as my body clock was everywhere. With all this stress building on me plus the mental torture of having my kids taken away, it was all too much, which was when the downward spiral began.”
His mental health spiralled. Feeling like there was no way out, he attempted to end his life. A 40-foot fall from a window left him with devastating injuries—broken neck and spine, broken ribs a shattered cheekbone, shattered pelvis, compound fractures, and traumatic brain injury. He was placed in an induced coma for nearly a week.
Even more harrowing than his physical injuries was the mental impact. “Trying to separate my hallucinations from reality was like living your worst nightmare times ten. It was incredibly hard to know what was real and what wasn’t.”
Doctors told Brandon he would never walk again. But waking up, he felt something shift.
“I was so close to death, I had no choice but to finally understand how valuable life is,” he said. “I thought, if there’s a way, I’ll find it.”
Months in hospital followed. At first, all Brandon could do was think, lying in bed, reflecting on the impact of his choices—not just on himself, but on those who loved him. He met others on the ward facing similar battles. Their strength inspired him. He realized that to help others, he had to help himself first.
A breakthrough came months later: after a major operation on his pelvis, Brandon’s right leg started to move on its own. That small flicker of movement ignited a new purpose.
He moved to Salford Royal’s rehab ward for intensive physiotherapy. It was brutal but essential. Once he was discharged home, he suffered from vertigo and severe migraines. Then, an opportunity emerged—a spot in a high-intensity rehab programme, the Enhanced Major Trauma Rehabilitation Service, originally created to support victims of the Manchester Arena bombing. Twice a week, for six months, he pushed through intense sessions with a dedicated team.
“My body woke back up,” Brandon says. “What they did was beyond NHS standard care—it was magic. They put me back together like a jigsaw, they are geniuses! They saved my life.”
That experience transformed him. Not only did it bring back hope, but it also gave the clinical staff a renewed love for their profession. Brandon won a national award for his recovery journey, submitted via a video entry.
Brandon is still under the care of a pain management team, neurology, and urology departments, learning healthier ways to manage the lingering effects of his injuries—both physical and mental. But he is determined to give back.
“I wouldn’t change what I went through,” he says. “It gave me the shock to the system I needed. If I can stop one person from getting to that point, I’ve done my job.”
In a bold move, Brandon signed up for the Great Manchester Run to raise funds for the services that cared for him through NorthCare Charity, the official charity of Northern Care Alliance NHS Foundation Trust. It was an impulsive decision, sparked by a conversation with his physio Jess, who mentioned she was running it.
“She said, ‘Let’s walk before you can run,’ but I’d already made up my mind,” he laughed. “Go big or go home!”
Training has been gruelling—one of the hardest things he’s ever done—but Brandon is no stranger to pain. Progress is slow, but real. He wears a necklace containing his dad’s ashes and speaks to him often during training runs. It keeps him grounded.
“I’ve always been better at helping others than helping myself. But this time, I’m doing both.”
With fire in his belly and purpose in his stride, Brandon’s story is far from over.
“It’s not my time to go,” he says. “The world keeps spinning, and I want to spin with it.”