Solidarity From Afar

Today, on a chilly winter’s morning, I sat and watched a livestream of the funeral of Prof Richard Scolyer AO.

Though I never met Prof Scolyer, his honesty and determination throughout his cancer journey was a touchstone for me over the past 2 ½ years.

I am fortunate not to have glioblastoma, but I do live with multiple brain tumours and the pain and fear that comes with them. Richard (I’m thinking he’d be happy with me dispensing with the formalities) used his vulnerability as a superpower and knocked people sideways in the process.

This isn’t a tribute post to a man I never knew.

It’s a solidarity post.

A reminder that you don’t need to show strength all the time to be seen as strong. To show the spectrum of feelings with the same sense of pride – that’s beautiful.

People who have to live alongside a serious medical diagnosis see the world through a different lens. It can be a blessing and a curse, and there’s no one way to find peace from the sense of urgency it brings.

For me, it comes as an insatiable want to do as much as I can, when the scans are stable, to make our healthcare systems as dignified and accessible as possible for people with disabilities.

A good scan means I’m in overdrive – travel the world, meet that person, make those connections, introduce those people, take that meeting, visit that institute, pack that day to the teeth.

Who knows what the next scan brings?

I’ll miss Richard - a man I never met, but one who radiated an energy to the world. An energy I recognise within myself, and a path forged by him and others, leads the way for us and those who come next.

Here I am in Gothenburg, madly cramming in as much life as I can while everything is calm.