Rhys' Eulogy

Seventh of the first ninety-eight.

Seventh of January nineteen ninety-eight.

We’ve lost track of the number of times that Rhys uttered those phrases, or we said them.

Rhys had to deal with a lot during his life. He had Neurofibromatosis, Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia, a malignant nerve sheaf tumour in his stomach, a meningioma which resulted in part of his skull being removed and replaced with an acrylic implant, another nerve sheaf tumour; this time in his leg and then, as a result, tumours in his lung, mouth and finally brain.

He also suffered a major seizure some months after the operation to remove his first brain tumour.

During his life Rhys visited at least 10 different hospitals, underwent procedures and operations too numerous to count and received gallons of blood and platelet transfusions.

Rhys’ bone marrow transplant was the first time that we risked losing him. The seizure after his brain surgery was the second time. Eventually it was the mouth and second brain tumour that resulted in us losing him.

Despite all that Rhys soldiered on. I can probably count on the fingers of one hand how many times he complained, instead he dealt with everything calmly and with a smile or cheeky grin on his face.

Rhys was born on the seventh of January nineteen ninety-eight and his first few years were fairly uneventful. 

In the summer of 2000, everything changed when he was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia. 

Despite the seriousness of his illness and the amount of time he spent in hospital we always tried to make life as normal as possible, but that would never be the case.

Rhys did so many things in his life, he had so many things he enjoyed doing and he never let the Leukaemia or tumours hold him back.

During the first weeks after he was diagnosed, and while we were still in Bristol he went, with a cannula in his hand and bandages protecting it to the zoo.

He went ten pin bowling on a Saturday morning, which was the source of our nickname Smiler for him.

He went swimming, once he had his Hickman Line removed, led to him gaining his bronze life saving certificate before he had to give up swimming due to the tumour in his stomach.

He went cycling, including taking part in several bikeathons.

He played pool, which he took every opportunity to play from the first time we stayed at CLIC House, through his many stays at Sam’s House and his brief time on Area 61 at Bristol Oncology Hospital. Something which led to his wanting to see a snooker final, something that he almost managed when he went to the World Snooker Championships in Sheffield and got a backstage tour and tickets for two of the round and quarter final sessions.

Rhys loved to cook, and made some lovely cakes for us all. He loved watching football and rugby, supporting Yeovil, Manchester United and Wales.

He loved Sci-Fi and fantasy, particularly Doctor Who, Power Rangers and Marvel and DC superheroes. Two of the last films we watched together were Guardian’s of the Galaxy Volume 2 and Wonder Woman.

Rhys had so many other experiences over the years.

Spending the morning at Yeovil Naval Air Station, getting to sit in the cockpits of several helicopters and flying the Lynx Mark 3 simulator, which resulted in him being given pilot’s wings.

Going to Barretstown in Ireland on outward bound weeks with other youngsters from around Europe with life threatening illnesses.

Being driven around Silverstone race track in a Ferrari.

After he received his terminal diagnosis he fulfilled the one wish that we’d never got around to, watching a Grand Prix. With the help of so many people who donated to a fund organised to help him achieve his final wishes he made it to Silverstone and got to see Hamilton win in style. 

The weekend was topped off with a surprise tour of the AMG Petronas team factory in Brackley. It was an amazing experience and he came home with some very special souvenirs as well as having been within touching distance of Hamilton’s car.

Even during the last weeks of his life Rhys got to experience some amazing things, Stormtroopers, owls, dogs. Life was never dull. The staff at St Margaret’s gave us the chance to spend quality time with him that we couldn’t have managed at home.

Rhys’ life was never a simple one but he made every effort to enjoy every moment of it, regardless of what he was going through. 

No matter what life threw at him though he always tried to help other whenever he could. He loved looking after the little ones, something he developed as a result of those early days in hospital. Playing with the younger kids in the playrooms often allowed their parents a chance for a few minutes break knowing that their child would be safe and sound and was being entertained. 

His experiences led him to decide that he wanted to work with children whether in a play group or as a hospital play specialist. Either of which he would have been brilliant at.

His gentleness, and the fact that he wasn’t the biggest of people, made him unthreatening to children who found him easy to get on with. It didn’t hurt that he had such a big heart, one that was filled with so much love for everyone.

His calmness and determination endeared him to everyone who met him. Rhys was the least threatening, most helpful young man you could ever meet. 

Even in his last days of life, his acceptance of his situation, and the peaceful and dignified way he dealt with everything was an incredible example. 

In the same way that Tracey and I were Rhys’s rocks, providing him with strength when he needed it, he was our rock giving us the strength to cope with everything.

Tracey and I, as well as everyone who ever knew him, have a Rhys shaped hole in our lives that nothing can fill. He won’t get the chance to do so many things now but is finally at peace and free from the cancer that affected him for most of it. He taught us so many things over the years, and even now he’s gone, his example can help us to live our lives to the full and remember that no matter what we go through we can still do amazing things.