I was born with very shortened legs, my feet are upside down, my arms are shorter than average, and I have just four fingers on each hand. These are not things that make me less, they are the marks of a life that has had to be braver, stronger, and more determined than most will ever know. My parents gave me the greatest foundation of all, they made me believe I could do anything. I learned to move, to adapt, to live fully in a world built for bodies very different from mine.

I am immensely proud that I felt so deeply about the injustice facing thalidomide survivors that I undertook a 10‑day hunger strike. It was gruelling, I lost 9 pounds grew very weak and drained but it brought world media attention, and our campaign succeeded in securing vital extra funding for all survivors. When Diageo took over from Guinness, we fought again and won an even bigger financial commitment. We also stood firm to ensure the pilot health grant scheme was kept in place and continued. 

I keep fighting because justice is not yet done. We won important victories, but we only ever received 40% of what was truly owed. 60% was withheld, and that gap grows wider every single day. I am committed because no one should spend their final years worrying about how to afford the care they need to live with dignity. I have given thirty years already freely, fully because this is not just about money. It is about ensuring that every survivor gets what they were promised, what they earned through a lifetime of courage, and what they deserve for the rest of their days. And as long as I have breath in me, I will stand persuasive, dogged, unshaken for every survivor who needs someone to fight for them.