Oliver's Raising Money for St Thomas' Hospital
Oliver Mangham
My Story
For as long as I can remember, I’ve pretended that I would like to run a marathon one day. Of course, this is a filthy lie. Who would actually want to do something as hideous as running any distance longer than the stretch between your flat and the bus stop? Alas, I made the fatal error of spouting this nonsense to anyone who would hear it -- until one day a colleague of mine at King’s College finally called my bluff and offered me a fundraising spot for the London Marathon 2025.
F*ck.
The only silver lining of this disastrous turn of events is that I now have an opportunity to raise some money for a really good cause: Guy’s and St Thomas’ Hospital. Last year, my dad learned he had a bicuspid valve; in other words, a birth defect that left him with one less flap by his ticker than he should. In February, he checked into the Cardiology Ward at St Thomas’ Hospital to go under the knife for a life-saving aortic valve replacement. It was a highly nerve-wracking and suspenseful six days, far more difficult for my family than we had expected. We tried to play it cool, but the reality is we were scared sh*tless. Our saving grace was that he received the Rolls Royce of medical care for from the team of incredibly hard-working nurses, doctors, specialists, and NHS support staff. (I’m also told he had a very dreamy Italian heart surgeon.)
Every day we came in to visit him, we were greeted with a warm smile and a chipper “You alright, love?” from people who had been working far too long and hard to be that sunny. As I sat beside my dad's bed, my attention drifted at times (he was, after all, higher than a kite) to the numerous other patients in the ward. Many of them were in tremendous pain and discomfort, likely facing one of the scariest challenges of their lives. At the same time, you could tell they were in incredibly safe hands – and they knew it.
I’m a potato of the couch variety, so these next eight months of training are going to be painful. But it’s nothing compared to what the 1.34 million NHS employees in this country manage under austere and extremely challenging conditions. Still, I will struggle. (Apparently, I may have to give up drinking for some period of time?!) That is why I ask of you to kindly give whatever you can to my fundraising page in the months, weeks, days and hours leading up to Sunday, April 26th 2026 -- only this will keep me going as I jog through South London's industrial parks on dark, damp and cold winter nights.
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Target
£2,500
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Raised so far
£1,254
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Number of donors
1
My Story
For as long as I can remember, I’ve pretended that I would like to run a marathon one day. Of course, this is a filthy lie. Who would actually want to do something as hideous as running any distance longer than the stretch between your flat and the bus stop? Alas, I made the fatal error of spouting this nonsense to anyone who would hear it -- until one day a colleague of mine at King’s College finally called my bluff and offered me a fundraising spot for the London Marathon 2025.
F*ck.
The only silver lining of this disastrous turn of events is that I now have an opportunity to raise some money for a really good cause: Guy’s and St Thomas’ Hospital. Last year, my dad learned he had a bicuspid valve; in other words, a birth defect that left him with one less flap by his ticker than he should. In February, he checked into the Cardiology Ward at St Thomas’ Hospital to go under the knife for a life-saving aortic valve replacement. It was a highly nerve-wracking and suspenseful six days, far more difficult for my family than we had expected. We tried to play it cool, but the reality is we were scared sh*tless. Our saving grace was that he received the Rolls Royce of medical care for from the team of incredibly hard-working nurses, doctors, specialists, and NHS support staff. (I’m also told he had a very dreamy Italian heart surgeon.)
Every day we came in to visit him, we were greeted with a warm smile and a chipper “You alright, love?” from people who had been working far too long and hard to be that sunny. As I sat beside my dad's bed, my attention drifted at times (he was, after all, higher than a kite) to the numerous other patients in the ward. Many of them were in tremendous pain and discomfort, likely facing one of the scariest challenges of their lives. At the same time, you could tell they were in incredibly safe hands – and they knew it.
I’m a potato of the couch variety, so these next eight months of training are going to be painful. But it’s nothing compared to what the 1.34 million NHS employees in this country manage under austere and extremely challenging conditions. Still, I will struggle. (Apparently, I may have to give up drinking for some period of time?!) That is why I ask of you to kindly give whatever you can to my fundraising page in the months, weeks, days and hours leading up to Sunday, April 26th 2026 -- only this will keep me going as I jog through South London's industrial parks on dark, damp and cold winter nights.
