Growing up in Bridgend, I had four brothers – Clive was my youngest. There was quite an age gap between us: I was 12 when Clive was born, so I took on something of a “second mum” role to him, helping my mother look after him. I remember rocking him to sleep in his pram regularly, while sitting on the stairs learning my French verbs.
When we were younger, Clive was quiet and bookish – he loved chess and played internationally, representing Wales as a teenager. One year, my oldest brother John was the Welsh senior chess champion and Clive was the Welsh junior champion. I was a very proud big sister. When I fell pregnant and had my first child, Dave, Clive became an uncle at 12; the exact same age gap we’d had, which felt fitting. He really loved being an uncle and my children loved him, too.
During the 1980s he was in a band called Statues of Us. He was known as Twink to his mates, he played guitar and did vocals, and wrote all their songs along with bandmates Boyd Clack and Mike Kennedy. They had quite a following and gigged regularly in Cardiff and Llantrisant.
Clive was 34 when he was diagnosed with leukaemia in the early 1990s after he’d been suffering from unexplained tiredness. I was living in Penarth, south Wales, at the time with my husband and family, not far from Cardiff where Clive was based with his wife and daughter. It was a big shock for the whole family – we didn’t know much about leukaemia at all and had no idea how it was going to progress, what treatments were available or how serious it could be. Nowadays, people are much more open about cancer and, thankfully, there’s more awareness of the disease.
Liz and her siblings were tested to see if they were a bone marrow match for Clive
Treatment went on for a few years – I remember Clive was back and forth to hospital for treatments and various blood transfusions constantly, this meant he had to step back from the band and they ended up going into permanent retirement. We moved to Bristol and I remember how stoic he was when we’d visit. He was determined he was going to get better and sounded upbeat when we spoke. He’d been trying alternative therapies as well as his NHS treatment plan, keen to give every option a go. When my oldest child got married in 1996, however, I was shocked at the photos. Clive had lost a lot of weight and looked almost skeletal, his cheeks completely sunken.
Around this time my parents, siblings and I had all been tested to see if we were a match for bone marrow donations, which we were told could really help Clive. Although mine was the nearest match, it still wasn’t good enough unfortunately. But soon afterwards they found a bone marrow donor for him, which gave us all huge hope. Very sadly, while Clive was in hospital for this, he picked up an infection and passed away, aged just 37. It was incredibly sad and shocking because we all felt so hopeful. His death left us all with so many “what ifs”.
The year after we lost Clive, I started a new job as a receptionist in a doctor’s surgery, where I worked for 10 years. While I enjoyed the job, it inevitably meant meeting many more people who were diagnosed with cancer. Some had successful outcomes, and others not. Many close friends have also been diagnosed over the years, and I’ve even had a melanoma removed myself – it was more than 20 years ago now and luckily it was caught early enough for it not to be a problem.
After Clive died, I joined the Cancer Research UK (CRUK) committee in Penarth, wanting to give something back and I’ve since become involved with what’s called the “legacy” side of the charity. As a result, my husband and I decided to leave a lump sum to CRUK in our wills. We know research into cancer costs a lot of money but without it, there’s no progress. I’d like to think that when our grandchildren grow up, cancer will be a lot less scary because treatments will have greatly improved and if they hear the word “cancer” they won’t be as worried as a result. Many people can’t afford to give something now but might, say, own their own home, so it’s a way of being able to leave something when you’re gone, later down the line.
I also know first-hand the positive impact research can have. Coincidentally, my husband’s brother was also diagnosed with leukaemia, and is currently on the IciCLLe trial, which took place at the Cancer Research UK Clinical Trials Unit (CRCTU) based at the University of Birmingham. He’s now doing really well and it’s wonderful being able to actually see how the work we are trying to fund really can change lives.
When I think of Clive, most of my memories of him now are from when he was little, in the summer holidays. We’d play in the fields behind our house – I’d push him across fields in his pram, we’d go all over the place making dens, returning absolutely filthy. My mother would have had a heart attack if she’d known half the places we’d been. For me, this work with CRUK and leaving something in my will is my way of honouring his memory and getting my own back on cancer – I really hope it encourages others to do the same.
Help prevent cancer in the future
Pledging a gift in your will is one of the most powerful ways you can support the work of Cancer Research UK; gifts in wills fund one third of CRUK’s work and make sure that research into cancer continues in the future. Legacy gifts ensure that scientists can advance our understanding of why and how cancer develops, plus develop new methods of diagnosis and better treatments, that directly leads to better outcomes for many people who are diagnosed with cancer. For more information, go to: cruk.org/giftsinwills
