What If This Was Your Child?
Today marks 71 days since Maya came home from hospital, and 71 days without access to a bath because the equipment she urgently needs still hasn’t been provided.
On 30th March 2026, after five months in hospital at Great Ormond Street Hospital, Maya finally came home.
People heard the word “discharged” and assumed that meant the nightmare was over.
It wasn’t.
Maya went into hospital as an able-bodied little girl.
Maya came home severely motor paralysed.
Just let that sink in for a moment.
Imagine your child walking into hospital.
Then imagine carrying them back out.
Imagine watching them unable to sit, stand, walk, climb into a bath, or get themselves to the toilet.
Imagine knowing they can still feel everything.
Imagine knowing they still know exactly when they need a wee or a poo.
Now imagine there is no suitable shower chair.
No tilt-in-space commode.
No bath insert.
No safe way to give them something as basic as a proper wash or dignity when they need the toilet.
Instead, they have to use a nappy.
Not because they don’t know when they need the toilet.
Not because they can’t tell you.
But because the equipment they desperately need still hasn’t arrived.
This is our reality.
And today, 9th June 2026, we are still fighting for what most people would consider the absolute basics.
A bath insert.
A showering chair.
A commode.
A wheelchair accessible vehicle.
Not luxuries.
Essentials.
The ceiling tracking hoist has become the perfect example of how broken the system can feel.
Maya came home on 30th March.
The assessment happened on 21st April.
We waited.
And waited.
Installation day finally arrived on 27th May.
We thought progress was finally being made.
Instead, we were told the team didn’t have the correct drill bits.
They left.
Now the next date is 23rd June.
Almost three months after Maya came home.
Three months.
How is that acceptable for a child with severe disabilities?
How is that considered urgent?
How is that allowed?
Every delay falls on families.
Every delay means more lifting.
More carrying.
More pain.
More exhaustion.
More risk.
More tears behind closed doors.
Because while equipment is delayed, childhood cancer doesn’t pause.
Rehabilitation doesn’t pause.
Life doesn’t pause.
Every weekday we travel to The Children’s Trust in Tadworth for intensive neuro-rehabilitation following the traumatic brain injury caused by cancer treatment.
The treatment that was meant to help.
The treatment that didn’t work.
The treatment that left Maya paralysed.
And despite everything she has already endured, she still had to undergo radiotherapy on 7th May 2026.
Most people never see this side of childhood cancer. And disability.
They see the fundraising posts.
The smiles.
The brave photos.
They don’t see parents lifting growing children in and out of cars multiple times every day. Maya is nearly as tall as me, weighing in at 45kg (7 stones!)
They don’t see aching backs. And broke. shoulders.
They don’t see sleepless nights.
They don’t see the endless phone calls and lengthy emails chasing equipment.
They don’t see the battles fought just to secure the “basics”.
We tried relying on hospital transport.
But appointments became longer, more stressful and more exhausting.
Waiting for collections.
Picking up other patients.
Dropping off other patients.
Being tied to someone else’s timetable.
For rehabilitation to work, Maya needs consistency, energy and routine.
So we drive.
Every single day.
Because it gives Maya the best chance possible.
But the fuel costs are enormous.
And they keep growing.
This is where we need your help.
If Maya’s story has ever touched your heart, please consider donating towards our daily travel costs.
Every pound helps get Maya to the rehabilitation she desperately needs.
If you can’t donate, please share this post.
A share costs nothing but could reach someone who can help.
Because no family should be fighting childhood cancer, paralysis, rehabilitation and bureaucracy all at the same time.
And no child should have to wait months for basic equipment that provides dignity, comfort and independence.
Before you scroll past, take one moment and ask yourself:
What if this was your child?
Because for us, it is.
And we would move mountains to give Maya every chance she deserves.
“Empathy is not feeling sorry for someone. It is imagining their reality so deeply that you cannot ignore their pain.”
Please donate if you can.
Please share if you can’t.
And please help us keep fighting for Maya.
PayPal as a gift to
Reference: Maya’s Journey
Bank transfer to Santander
D C Nash
Sort code 09-01-36
Account 49579984
Reference: Maya’s Journey
I was told Santander sometimes decline transfer so:
Bank transfer to Lloyds Bank:
Mrs Dellanie Nash
Sort code 30-93-34
Account 40263960
Reference: Maya’s Journey
Every donation, every share, every act of kindness has helped keep Maya moving forward. To those who support us regularly, you are more than donors—you are part of Maya’s story.
You are her lifeline.
Thank you from the very bottom of our hearts for helping us fight for the future she deserves. ❤️
“For 71 days, Maya has been home from hospital without the basic dignity of being able to access a bath.”
Comments