The Melbourne Age's "Insight" section this Saturday included an article by Julie Milland that was originally published in The Citizen.
As well as carrying the story of a GBM patient "Paul", the article provides good insights into the who and how of Melbourne's current status as one of the World's leading centre's for cancer research.
You can read The Citizen article here:
http://www.thecitizen.org.au/features/cancer-trials-offering-hope-prolonging-lives
and The Age's carrying of it here:
http://www.theage.com.au/national/health/melbourne-is-capital-of-cancer-research-trials-20140904-10bdpf.html
The best research demands a supportive network of capabilities concentrated and connected in a way that enables the teams to develop and grow. Right now we have that in Melbourne and it is not only a benefit to us locally, the work and results being achieved here are beneficial on a global scale.
Let's keep it that way.
Shade Seekers On Buller
Shade Seekers On Buller
Monday, 15 September 2014
Monday, 4 August 2014
The end of a favourite chapter
[emailed 01/08/2014)
Hi All,
As I write this update I am sitting in the departure lounge at terminal 4 in Heathrow, heading back to Australia once again.
Some four weeks after my last post I received the call that I had been expecting but never wanted to arrive. At 6 minutes past nine in the evening of the 18th of July my mother passed away with my Father and Sister at her side. My sister called me a little while later - which was in the pre-dawn of Saturday morning for me in Australia. The last weeks were difficult for all concerned, but were made easier by the excellent care provided by the people at the Cranmere Court Care Home.
During this last week my father and I made a quick visit to the home to donate a few of the many house plants my mother had maintained and that would be too many for my father to remember while he has his gardening 'L' plates on. It was a pleasure to meet some of the people who had made my mother's last days easier, and reduced the burden on my family.
The funeral was on Wednesday with everything organised by my sister. I know understand why it means so much for the grieving family to have relatives and friends around them to share the stories and to make a hard day a little easier.
Watching the news this morning in London I saw that the announcement of a 300m GBP investment in genome research in the UK, targetting amongst other things the ability to identity and treat cancer in earlier stages with better outcomes. The politician claimed the UK to be leading the world in this race (I think the commonwealth games was adding some spin to the spin). This October I'll be proud to wear the colours of team Australia - but to be honest I don't mind who wins, because we will all win whichever team crosses this line first - and like the games themselves, there is respect and support amongst all those who play on this field.
Before I left for the UK last Saturday night I took the opportunity for one last long ride before a week off. It was a miserable dank "dreich" (in Scottish) affair, 130km ride - but the fastest I've ever made down from Port Melbourne to Frankston when I was hanging on with some tough riders, and took a turn at the front for a while. Leaving the summer warmth of England (no kidding, its warm and sunny here), I'm not sure I want to put the 14 separate items of clothing back on again to climb on the bike in the Melbourne winter, but it is good therapy and so long as keep the bike rubber side down and I can get back home early enough in the day, no harm comes of it. I'll be home late on Saturday night, and may be out early on Sunday morning, that's what jet-lag and a cycling problem will do to you.
Many many thanks to all those who have already donated to my ride this year. It means a lot to me and a lot to the people who matter in Cancer Research. I have reached the minimum level required to ride, but I'd like to set my sites much higher this year so those of you who were thinking of donating, or intending to donate, please do so.
Remember that you are the author of your own story. Make it a good one, and make sure you take the time to celebrate the stories of others you know and love.
Till the next time,
John.
As I write this update I am sitting in the departure lounge at terminal 4 in Heathrow, heading back to Australia once again.
Some four weeks after my last post I received the call that I had been expecting but never wanted to arrive. At 6 minutes past nine in the evening of the 18th of July my mother passed away with my Father and Sister at her side. My sister called me a little while later - which was in the pre-dawn of Saturday morning for me in Australia. The last weeks were difficult for all concerned, but were made easier by the excellent care provided by the people at the Cranmere Court Care Home.
During this last week my father and I made a quick visit to the home to donate a few of the many house plants my mother had maintained and that would be too many for my father to remember while he has his gardening 'L' plates on. It was a pleasure to meet some of the people who had made my mother's last days easier, and reduced the burden on my family.
The funeral was on Wednesday with everything organised by my sister. I know understand why it means so much for the grieving family to have relatives and friends around them to share the stories and to make a hard day a little easier.
Watching the news this morning in London I saw that the announcement of a 300m GBP investment in genome research in the UK, targetting amongst other things the ability to identity and treat cancer in earlier stages with better outcomes. The politician claimed the UK to be leading the world in this race (I think the commonwealth games was adding some spin to the spin). This October I'll be proud to wear the colours of team Australia - but to be honest I don't mind who wins, because we will all win whichever team crosses this line first - and like the games themselves, there is respect and support amongst all those who play on this field.
Before I left for the UK last Saturday night I took the opportunity for one last long ride before a week off. It was a miserable dank "dreich" (in Scottish) affair, 130km ride - but the fastest I've ever made down from Port Melbourne to Frankston when I was hanging on with some tough riders, and took a turn at the front for a while. Leaving the summer warmth of England (no kidding, its warm and sunny here), I'm not sure I want to put the 14 separate items of clothing back on again to climb on the bike in the Melbourne winter, but it is good therapy and so long as keep the bike rubber side down and I can get back home early enough in the day, no harm comes of it. I'll be home late on Saturday night, and may be out early on Sunday morning, that's what jet-lag and a cycling problem will do to you.
Many many thanks to all those who have already donated to my ride this year. It means a lot to me and a lot to the people who matter in Cancer Research. I have reached the minimum level required to ride, but I'd like to set my sites much higher this year so those of you who were thinking of donating, or intending to donate, please do so.
Remember that you are the author of your own story. Make it a good one, and make sure you take the time to celebrate the stories of others you know and love.
Till the next time,
John.
Thursday, 24 July 2014
Eva Papsø Phillips (Espersen): b.April 22 1937 - d.July 18 2014
Early in the pre-dawn morning of Saturday the 19th of July in Australia, my sister called me to that our mother had just passed away.
Although deeply sad, the news also offered a form of relief as the last few days and weeks had been especially tough on my mother and those around her. I was reassured to hear that both my sister and our father were coping well in the circumstances.
The funeral will be next week on Wednesday the 30th of July and I am travelling back to the UK this weekend. In an email from my father to those invited to the funeral I read that my mother had asked that people donate to the my rather than buy flowers. An act typical of my mother.
Amongst many things I learnt from my mother the importance of a loving nature, hard work, selflessness, a cool head in adversity, and a slightly cheeky sense of humour.
I hope I can teach my children as well.
I look forward to a time in the not too distant future when my father will be able to join us here in Australia for the road trip we've always promised ourselves around this great brown land.
Although deeply sad, the news also offered a form of relief as the last few days and weeks had been especially tough on my mother and those around her. I was reassured to hear that both my sister and our father were coping well in the circumstances.
The funeral will be next week on Wednesday the 30th of July and I am travelling back to the UK this weekend. In an email from my father to those invited to the funeral I read that my mother had asked that people donate to the my rather than buy flowers. An act typical of my mother.
Amongst many things I learnt from my mother the importance of a loving nature, hard work, selflessness, a cool head in adversity, and a slightly cheeky sense of humour.
I hope I can teach my children as well.
I look forward to a time in the not too distant future when my father will be able to join us here in Australia for the road trip we've always promised ourselves around this great brown land.
Thursday, 3 July 2014
Winter training - early, dark, mornings
Quick snapshot of rides this week:
Monday: Short commute on my old faithful XC bike. 12km, dawn there, dark back
Tuesday: 3 x Laps of the Kew Boulevard road then commute to work and return. 68km. 5.30am start
Wednesday: Ride up to Sassafras and return (straight to work). 71km. 5.51am start
Thursday: Down to Beach road and Mordialloc. 70km. 5.40am start.
Friday: (intended). Short commute. 12km.
Why the mid-week push? Blame the weather forecast, good for Tue, Wed and Thu. Rain forecast for Fri, Sat and Sun. Also means I might get to seem more of the family and our new dog over the weekend.
Still hoping to get 250km in before the end of the week, but I think that will mean doing a little something over the weekend.
I'm compensating to make up for some soft weeks recently. Over the previous three weeks I've only managed 139km, 152km, and 119km during each week, whereas the week of June 2 - 8 was 379km. Obviously a fair weather rider :)
This is what Sassafras looks like at dawn mid-week....
Monday: Short commute on my old faithful XC bike. 12km, dawn there, dark back
Tuesday: 3 x Laps of the Kew Boulevard road then commute to work and return. 68km. 5.30am start
Wednesday: Ride up to Sassafras and return (straight to work). 71km. 5.51am start
Thursday: Down to Beach road and Mordialloc. 70km. 5.40am start.
Friday: (intended). Short commute. 12km.
Why the mid-week push? Blame the weather forecast, good for Tue, Wed and Thu. Rain forecast for Fri, Sat and Sun. Also means I might get to seem more of the family and our new dog over the weekend.
Still hoping to get 250km in before the end of the week, but I think that will mean doing a little something over the weekend.
I'm compensating to make up for some soft weeks recently. Over the previous three weeks I've only managed 139km, 152km, and 119km during each week, whereas the week of June 2 - 8 was 379km. Obviously a fair weather rider :)
This is what Sassafras looks like at dawn mid-week....
Sunday, 22 June 2014
make your story a good one
Hi all,
Many thanks to all those who have donated already. As I write I am $20 from the minimum level of donations and $720 from my target. One of the rewards of participating in this ride is that I get to reach out to a great number of family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances who I've met over the years. Its not just wonderful to get donations, it's heart warming to receive replies and encouragement. It helps to hear and share stories with others.
A few days after my last post in May, one of my long-term friends from the UK contacted me. It was great to hear from Simon, it had been a long time since we had last been in touch. He's known me and my family for over 25 years as we initially closely shared our roller-coaster ride of life and then watched each other follow our paths from afar. He confessed that with each post he is concerned that this will be THAT post. Well this isn't that post Simon.
My visit last month was a wonderful opportunity to see my mother and family again while my mother was at home. The highlight from the trip was the trip to the Olympic Park complex in London. The week before we had made a clumsy effort of going out for car ride. With my mother's reduced mobility and our inexperienced efforts, we took nearly an hour to get from inside the house to inside the car and exhausted my mother in the process. We cut short our plans and made an extended loop in the car before returning home to repeat the process in reverse, this time with thankfully less drama. It was an interesting drive though, we got to see some of the meaningful places of my father's childhood, the roads he rode as a teenage cyclist, the hills that tested him and his colleagues, and the houses that he lived in. I was reminded how good we have it in Australia from a cycling point of view, those narrow hedge-lined roads are pretty, and pretty damn dangerous to ride along with the UK's heavy traffic. Despite this shattering experience my mother was adamant that we must go to the Olympic Park complex. After our efforts at the short trip, this looked like an attempt on Everest without oxygen. Still my incredibly organised sister managed to find a vehicle we could hire that could take a wheelchair and came with a ramp, and with that we set off on a day-trip to the Olympic Park. It wasn't easy, but then memorable things seldom are. The trip reminded us, should there ever have been any doubt, of my mother's indomitable will.
My mother was in hospital for a period shortly after my visit and is now amongst very caring nurses at St Christopher's Hospice. She is weaker but still with us. She has daily visits from my father and sister and her Danish relatives and friends, who haven't stopped their wonderful visits and are still planning more to come. A benign and beautiful bunch of Viking raiders if ever there was one.
I'll close with two thoughts. One is from a a TED talk by the philosopher Stephen Cave. In it he discusses the point at which we realise we are mortal and the stories we tell about what happens next. I won't repeat the talk here, you can find it in full on TED,. but his concluding advice resonated with me. Here is how the transcript of his talk ends:
Make sure you make your life a good story.
Many thanks to all those who have donated already. As I write I am $20 from the minimum level of donations and $720 from my target. One of the rewards of participating in this ride is that I get to reach out to a great number of family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances who I've met over the years. Its not just wonderful to get donations, it's heart warming to receive replies and encouragement. It helps to hear and share stories with others.
A few days after my last post in May, one of my long-term friends from the UK contacted me. It was great to hear from Simon, it had been a long time since we had last been in touch. He's known me and my family for over 25 years as we initially closely shared our roller-coaster ride of life and then watched each other follow our paths from afar. He confessed that with each post he is concerned that this will be THAT post. Well this isn't that post Simon.
My visit last month was a wonderful opportunity to see my mother and family again while my mother was at home. The highlight from the trip was the trip to the Olympic Park complex in London. The week before we had made a clumsy effort of going out for car ride. With my mother's reduced mobility and our inexperienced efforts, we took nearly an hour to get from inside the house to inside the car and exhausted my mother in the process. We cut short our plans and made an extended loop in the car before returning home to repeat the process in reverse, this time with thankfully less drama. It was an interesting drive though, we got to see some of the meaningful places of my father's childhood, the roads he rode as a teenage cyclist, the hills that tested him and his colleagues, and the houses that he lived in. I was reminded how good we have it in Australia from a cycling point of view, those narrow hedge-lined roads are pretty, and pretty damn dangerous to ride along with the UK's heavy traffic. Despite this shattering experience my mother was adamant that we must go to the Olympic Park complex. After our efforts at the short trip, this looked like an attempt on Everest without oxygen. Still my incredibly organised sister managed to find a vehicle we could hire that could take a wheelchair and came with a ramp, and with that we set off on a day-trip to the Olympic Park. It wasn't easy, but then memorable things seldom are. The trip reminded us, should there ever have been any doubt, of my mother's indomitable will.
My mother was in hospital for a period shortly after my visit and is now amongst very caring nurses at St Christopher's Hospice. She is weaker but still with us. She has daily visits from my father and sister and her Danish relatives and friends, who haven't stopped their wonderful visits and are still planning more to come. A benign and beautiful bunch of Viking raiders if ever there was one.
I'll close with two thoughts. One is from a a TED talk by the philosopher Stephen Cave. In it he discusses the point at which we realise we are mortal and the stories we tell about what happens next. I won't repeat the talk here, you can find it in full on TED,. but his concluding advice resonated with me. Here is how the transcript of his talk ends:
Now, I find it helps to see life as being like a book: Just as a book is bounded by its covers, by beginning and end, so our lives are bounded by birth and death, and even though a book is limited by beginning and end, it can encompass distant landscapes, exotic figures, fantastic adventures. And even though a book is limited by beginning and end, the characters within it know no horizons. They only know the moments that make up their story, even when the book is closed. And so the characters of a book are not afraid of reaching the last page. Long John Silver is not afraid of you finishing your copy of "Treasure Island." And so it should be with us. Imagine the book of your life, its covers, its beginning and end, and your birth and your death. You can only know the moments in between, the moments that make up your life. It makes no sense for you to fear what is outside of those covers, whether before your birth or after your death. And you needn't worry how long the book is, or whether it's a comic strip or an epic. The only thing that matters is that you make it a good storyThe second is from my close Aussie friend Grant whose world-recognised work as a cancer specialist got me on this ride three years ago. Grant and I were talking about some recent media coverage for Peter Mac on an advance in cancer treatment. Grant's response was positive, but as he said, he's tired of small improvements, he wants a big step change. Something that dramatically improves the way we diagnose and treat cancer. I for one hope he gets the help he and his colleagues need to take that step. Your donations can make that happen.
Make sure you make your life a good story.
Tuesday, 10 June 2014
Stephen Cave and life as a book
Came across Shane Parrish's reference to Stephen Cave's interview with NPR (here) and TED lecture (here) on Shane's Farnam Street site.
Cave is the author of Immortality: The Quest to Live Forever and How It Drives Civilization, an inquiry into humanity’s irrational resistance to the inevitability of death.
Shane paraphrases Cave's work in his blog in the following way:
Cave is the author of Immortality: The Quest to Live Forever and How It Drives Civilization, an inquiry into humanity’s irrational resistance to the inevitability of death.
Shane paraphrases Cave's work in his blog in the following way:
Just as a book is bounded by its covers by a beginning and end, so our lives are bounded by birth and death. And even though a book is limited by a beginning and end, it can encompass distant landscapes, exotic figures, fantastic adventures. And even though a book is limited by a beginning and end, the characters within it know no horizons.
They only know the moments that make up their story, even when the book is closed. And so the characters of a book are not afraid of reaching the last page. Long John Silver is not afraid of you finishing your copy of “Treasure Island.” And so it should be with us. Imagine the book of your life, its covers, its beginning and end, your birth and your death. You can only know the moments in between, the moments that make up your life.
It makes no sense for you to fear what is outside of those covers, whether before your birth or after your death. And you needn't worry how long the book is or whether it’s a comic strip or an epic. The only thing that matters is that you make it a good story.
Tuesday, 3 June 2014
Hollowmen - really?
The Age newspaper (not it must be said a supporter of the Abbott government) published an article on the $20bn health fund.... funny but not flattering and to be honest, I hope they're wrong.
http://www.theage.com.au/federal-politics/political-news/tony-abbotts-hollowmen-moment-was-medical-research-fund-a-lastminute-distraction-20140603-39fl8.html
http://www.theage.com.au/federal-politics/political-news/tony-abbotts-hollowmen-moment-was-medical-research-fund-a-lastminute-distraction-20140603-39fl8.html
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