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The mission of Theodora Children's Trust is to bring fun and laughter to children in hospital. The aim is to offer children in hospital in the UK weekly visits from Theodora clown doctors.

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When I arrive, at around midday, at the 14-bedded Bone Marrow Transplant Unit at the Bristol Royal Hospital for Children, the daily hustle and bustle is well under way.

Despite being a Children’s Hospital, for the past 20 years the unit has taken both children and adult patients, who come from all over the UK and beyond for their bone marrow or stem cell transplants.

The massage therapy service was started five years ago and has gradually expanded.

I am offering massage on the unit today, along with another member of the massage team. At present the team consists of four trained massage therapists who are also nurses on the unit. Before we begin we need to ensure that each patient, or their carer, has given written consent for the massage. Then we check that they have no infections, which could be spread to other patients, that their skin is in good enough condition for a massage, and that they have a high enough platelet count.

Once that is established, the patient can relax and enjoy a 20 minute massage. Often within a few minutes they are so relaxed that they fall asleep.

Soon after I arrive today, one of the consultants approaches me and asks if I will go and see Lloyd, a ten-year-old boy who had a transplant about a week ago. He has been complaining of backache, and has required strong intravenous painkillers overnight. The consultant has examined Lloyd and is sure the pain is muscular, probably from spending such a long time in bed. Lloyd agrees to a back massage and he enjoys the gentle soothing touch.

It is not until the following day that I hear about the full effect of the massage, as Lloyd’s father is bursting to tell me that Lloyd has not complained of backache since, and has not needed any more pain killers.

Next we work our way round the unit, offering massage to those who would like it. A variety of different parts of the body are massaged. Feet are always very popular but back, head, leg, arm and hand massage are all requested.

Then I introduce myself to Dean, a 49-year-old gentleman who has been a patient on the unit for just a few days.

I offer him a leaflet about the massage service and sit down with him in his isolation cubicle to explain what we can offer him. He is a little reluctant to try a massage as he has never had one before. He strikes me as an anxious person and is also very tired. He is a long way from home, worried about forthcoming treatment and he is feeling exhausted from several poor night’s sleep. I suggest to him that it is a good idea to try to take a nap during the day, to make up for the lack of sleep at night, and that perhaps a soothing foot massage could help him to relax. I reassure him that if he agrees to a massage, he can ask me to stop at any time.

He agrees to try it and I proceed to make Dean comfortable on his bed and give him a foot massage. He immediately comments on how nice it feels but before I have even finished, he has fallen asleep!

Once I finish I quietly leave the cubicle, leaving the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on his door. A couple of hours later his nurse comments that I must have worked some magic on him because he is still asleep and she is about to wake him up to take him for his radiotherapy appointment.

The massage service has never been funded by the NHS. Since the start, the service has been funded by charitable donations, often from grateful families. Leukaemia CARE made a very generous donation earlier this year for which we are very grateful. It will help to benefit more patients and secure the future of the service.

When Pyper was born in February 2005 to Private Valentine of The Scots Guards and his wife Tasmin, her most striking feature was her weight: a whopping 9 lb 5 oz. Within months, however, she would be diagnosed with Plagiocephaly (a deformation of the skull). The Army Benevolent Fund helped cover the cost of urgent treatment.

Tasmin Valentine recalls the tribulations of Pyper’s first year of life:

“When she was about two months old I mentioned the flat shape of the back of her head to the health visitor, who put it down to a quick delivery and such a large baby."

“Then I saw an article in the Daily Record about a little boy with a condition called Plagiocephaly. His head looked very similar to Pyper’s…Hers was that flat at the back it went really high and then to a point at one side. I used to call her my little cone-head baby. It was upsetting to look at her, heartbreaking."


“I investigated further on the Internet and brought it up again with my health visitor. She told me nobody was perfect and just to grow Pyper’s hair.”

Angered by the health visitor’s and GP’s response, Tasmin tracked down a specialist clinic in Leeds. The consultant asked her for detailed photograph evidence and then diagnosed Positional Plagiocephaly. Treatment would involve wearing a specially devised helmet (called a STARband) 23 hours a day to mould Pyper’s skull back into shape. It had to begin before her first birthday to be effective. Failure to act could have caused aesthetic and developmental problems later.

A new GP recommended an instant referral to the Edinburgh Sick Children’s Hospital. But the weeks went by without hearing and the clock was ticking. By now, Pyper was over eight months’ old, and private treatment (at just under £2,000) was the quickest option.

Tasmin swung into action to raise funds with a Lady’s Night. But despite the event’s success, a further £1,550 was still needed. Worried, and without the means to cover the balance, Tasmin approached the Families Office of her husband’s Unit. The Welfare Officer asked her to leave the case with him.

Within a month, Tasmin Valentine had a cheque in her hands: The Royal Scots Regimental Benevolence Fund had made a grant of £1,000, to which the Army Benevolent Fund had added the remaining £550. By November 2005, Pyper could finally begin treatment – and progress was swift. On the eve of her first birthday (7 February 2006) the little girl’s STARband helmet was off.

“It was absolutely fantastic,” her mother recalls with obvious joy and relief. “Pyper’s head has rounded out a lot.”

And she adds with quiet, though profound gratitude: “I’d heard about the Army Benevolent Fund before, but I didn’t know they did things like this… I thought, God forbid, it was just if something happened to your husband. I’d just like to say thank you very much really. We wouldn’t be where we are now if it wasn’t for them.”