Last August, sheltering my Celtic skin from the British 'sun', I got a hot flush and signed up to do 6 marathons in 7 days. In the Sahara Desert. Self-supported. Again! 

….and Day 1 is this Sunday! Gah!!

At 116kgs it’s safe to say that I am not an ultra-marathon runner by design, nor am I built to withstand even a suggestion of sunshine. If that was not deterrent enough, you’d have thought the image of my twin brother Benny’s feet (see fig) on day 2 of the last time we did the race would do the trick? We were unhinged ten years ago, and whilst Benny has grown wiser… it appears I have not. 

Last time, we ran in memory of our father and this year I’m running (ok, maybe 'trudging') for the Royal Marsden Cancer Hospital, and specifically their nurses. As many of you will know, 4 years ago my sister Dizzy was diagnosed with Hodgkins’ Lymphoma. Her treatment, like all cancer treatment, was a gruelling ordeal. It was the kind of ordeal that makes you realise that 6 marathons in 7 days is just a blink of the eye.

I don’t need to tell you that cancer treatment is often a scorched earth policy applied to the body: it is brutal and it is indiscriminate. When this treatment did not work first time around, Dizzy was given a difficult, complex and truly remarkable stem-cell treatment. It was a long road, and a lonely one, filled with terrors at every turn. But – four years later, after a gritty battle, she is a picture of health and miraculously has a beautiful baby daughter, called Thea, whose name means ‘Gift from God’. (See fig)

What made my sister’s treatment bearable was the care and kindness of the nurses at the Royal Marsden. They truly share the load – caring for patients at the bleakest moments of their lives and sadly, and all too often, at the ends of their lives too. When I asked Dizzy who she wanted me to run for, she said ‘I want you to run it for them’. 

As Dizzy says, 'it is only the nurses who can tell you what you really need to know – how you'll feel, how you'll cope, how to get through. My clinical nurse specialist was, and still is, my guiding light. She was the first person who made cancer seem manageable, the one who sat me down when I was first diagnosed and said, "look, it's shit, there's no doubt but you just have to do it and here's how..."'

‘The nurses on the chemo day unit were always bright and smiley, ready to cheer up a bleak day. They were kind and gentle and funny all at the same time. The nurses on the long-stay ward (where I checked in for a month having my stem-cell transplant) would stay up chatting with me at night when I couldn't sleep. They were so busy going from patient to patient, but always found the time, humanity and compassion to be there for each and every one of us.'

Dizzy, my family and I would be beyond grateful if you would consider making a donation, however small, here. Every penny you give is recognition for the wonderful work that the nurses do and is a small way for us, as a family, to say thank you to them for saving Dizzy and for bringing us Thea.

 Thank you.