On the first day of the summer holidays last year, my then 15-year old daughter Iris underwent what we expected to be a routine MRI, but within hours, we were informed that the radiographers had discovered a large brain tumor, roughly the size of an orange, located where the top of the spinal cord meets the base of the brain stem.

The tumor was severely compressing her optic and auditory nerves, as well as her facial nerve and the brain stem itself. If Iris had not started losing the hearing in her left ear the year prior, we would have had no indication whatsoever that her brain was becoming more and more compressed on a daily basis. Had it been left much longer, the tumor would have led to paralysis, organ failure or death, severing the vital connections between Iris's cerebellum and the rest of her body.

We were notified within weeks that brain surgery offered the best course of action and for the remainder of our summer holidays, we eagerly awaited confirmation of a date for Iris to go into theatre, still not knowing at this point whether the mass was cancerous or not and not knowing whether the surgery might cure or kill her.

In October of 2023 Iris was admitted to the Borthwick Neurosurgery Ward in the Edinburgh Royal Hospital for Children and Young People and within hours she had undergone an 11 hour procedure, which was followed by a night in Intensive Care. The surgery had involved sawing and removing a portion of skull from behind the left ear and then slowly working inward through her brain to the base of her brain stem to locate the mass. Once identified, a team of neurosurgeons had faced the long and arduous task of removing as much of the tumour as possible, without accidentally disturbing or even severing the bundle of intertwined nerves that had at this point been stretched to near breaking point.

In the 10 or so days that followed, Iris remained in hospital and was placed under the supervision of a team of specialists, including pediatricians, dietitians, physiotherapists, educational support workers, audiologists and nurses.

Iris shared a ward with a range of patients who came and went as she recovered, ranging in age from toddler to teenager. Some had been admitted for their first surgery. One of her ward mates had undergone three surgeries in the preceding 12 months alone and had spent more time in hospital since birth than she had at home.

The care provided by the RHCYP to Iris as both an inpatient and outpatient has been nothing short of remarkable. We've dealt with countless medical personnel over the past year or so and from the porters to the brain surgeons, every single member of staff at the RHCYP has made our journey far more bearable that it may have otherwise been.

I genuinely fear for the way that our NHS is heading. As a service, it is irreplaceable, but it is becoming increasingly neglected at the huge expense of the great many who rely upon it, both directly and indirectly. What I also know through first hand experience however, is that every member of NHS staff that we have spent time with would do everything within their power to speed up recovery, take away fear, provide reassurance, distraction and comfort every step of the way for our sick young people.

If you can, please give to this cause. Be it £1 or another amount of your choosing, every single contribution will genuinely make a difference to young people facing the greatest of challenges. I'll be running the Edinburgh Half Marathon on August 18th to try and raise some much needed funds for Edinburgh's Sick Kids. If you can help me, please do. Thank you in advance. Sean.