Back in 2014 my oldest brother was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML).
It came as a complete shock to our family, given that he was an active worker, scaffolding some of the most prominent sites in England. But cancer does not discriminate.
By the time of his diagnosis he was already stage 3, and was recommended he start treatment immediately for the best chance to manage it, so that is what he did. Over the next few months, it was incredibly hard to watch a man who was our father figure, bodyguard, confidant, and life coach battle both the AML and the treatments, but his strength and determination kept everyone including himself going.
He was the second child of our 8 sibling family, and had two children he adored, so for him, he knew he had to fight it. After months of chemo, he was advised to have a stem cell transplant, to offer the best chances of survival.
The transplant worked, my brother went into remission, and our family felt hopeful for a future that we thought may have been taken from us.
But unfortunately, AML wasn't finished, and we were already aware that if it did come back, it would come back with a vengeance.
My brother received a call from his doctor, asking him to come in for his most recent test results, tracking the remission. He knew immediately what this meant, even if they hadn't said it. I saw him that day, explaining to our mum that he didn’t have the fight left in him to do it all again.. he wanted to leave, get on a plane and fly to Cuba a place he loved, to be on the beach.
I don't know where he found the strength to come back from that, but he ultimately decided he would get treatment again, he wasn't going to give up with so much on the line.
So he went to his appointment, and was told what he already knew. The AML had returned, more aggressively than before, and he was given a very slim chance even with treatment of beating it.
Our family was devastated again, but we held out hope and rallied around him, and before he left for London to start his treatment he took me for a drink. I was expecting my first child, my beautiful son who is now almost 9, and I think he wanted to give me some tips as a man, and a father.
We spoke for hours about life, about regrets, about our memories. We laughed, and then he cried. It was so rare to see, and it was the most intense and real emotion I had ever seen. He told me he was scared, but in the most true testament to his character and strength, he wasn't scared for himself. He told me that he was worried about who would look after everyone when he was gone, who would be there for his kids, and our mum, he wished he had saved enough money to set us up for life. Even in that moment, knowing what was coming, he was everything he had ever been to me.
The next few weeks were tough, my mum visited every day she could, friends and family were at his side constantly, and he kept his spirits up, always joking and laughing, and always hopeful, determined to win.
Then one day, on the 5th of October, I got a phone call from my brother Dan who was at the hospital with my mum visiting Iain. It wasn't good news. He told me that my dad was on the way to get me with some of my other siblings, Iain had developed an infection that his body was struggling to fight due to the chemo and they had induced a coma, but advised we all be there for the worst case scenario.
The rest of that night was a blur, but every moment is seared into my mind, every agonising minute of waiting for updates or a response, improvements of any kind. For hours we sat in a waiting room taking turns to sit with my mum and Iain as only 2 people were allowed in the room, which was difficult with so many siblings, plus cousins and other family & friends, we spoke to him in those moment, shared memories and encouragement, I know he could hear that.
In the early hours of the 6th of October, the nurse had an update.. Iain's vitals were dropping, and they didn't expect them to improve. It was at that point that all of the immediate family was allowed to his room.
After years of him being there for us, in his final hours, we were all there for him, he deserved nothing less.
We all sat with him, I held his hand, and eventually he slipped away.
To this day I have never heard a more painful sound then my mother’s grief in that moment. I could only be grateful that he had so many people that loved him there, and for all of us to rely on.
Iain was a hero to us, a friend to so many, a father, a brother, a son and a great, great man. My son carries his name, the same one inked into my skin, so his legacy will continue with us, and his children.
For years I didn't want to acknowledge it, so I buried myself in work and being a father (now to 3 beautiful kids) who I raise with the advice from that night at the pub ringing in my head.
It has taken me a long time to accept, and now I know what I need to do. I have a goal to raise as much awareness as I can, and to raise funds for the amazing charities that provide support for patients with blood cancer and their families. Without his stem cell transplant, we could have lost Iain a lot sooner, and I am grateful for every extra second we had.
I have always loved to cycle, Iain would joke that he would outpace me on his roller skates any day of the week, but was always impressed. So I am going to be riding in his honour and to raise funds for all of the amazing charities that work to help better treat blood cancers, and eventually, cure them. Starting with a tour of the UK, John O' Groats to Lands’ end with a twist, aiming to visit as many of the cities in the UK as possible on the way, and hopefully setting up events there to support as I pass through and moving onto bigger and more challenging trials in the future.
I will be training for the next 10 months for this tour, and will be documenting my progress through social media channels, so please feel free to follow along and spread the word.
I know not everyone can support with donations, so simply sharing this with your friends, or on your social media pages would be massively helpful in helping to raise the funds we need for the continued research and developments in battling blood cancer.
Here's to a future without cancer, and to everyone that this affects.
