We are sad to share the news that Mary Digby, who spent 30 years working as a play specialist for children with retinoblastoma, passed away earlier this month at the age of 97.
Her funeral will be held at Her funeral will be held at St Anne’s Church, 31 Kew Green, Richmond TW9 3AA at 12 noon on 8 October 2026. Any CHECT members that would like to attend will be very welcome.on 8 October 2026. Any CHECT members that would like to attend will be very welcome.
This interview was printed in the 25th anniversary edition of InFocus in 2012.
Marvellous Mary’s open house by Christina Rozeik (2012).
Like many parents, I am grateful to hospital play specialists for their ability to keep children entertained during even the longest wait for an EUA. It was a pleasure therefore to talk to Mary Digby, who spent 30 years working as a play specialist for children with retinoblastoma, first at Moorfields and later at Barts, writes Christina Rozeik.
Mary knew from an early age that she wanted to work with children. She trained as a nursery nurse at the prestigious Norland College – although she is keen to point out that she didn’t conform to the stereotype. “I wasn’t a Norland nurse who wore white gloves and expected to be waited on. I was never a luxury nanny, I was not interested in that at all! I helped families and I did new babies. And then I started to travel, and I worked my way right round the world over a few years, in South Africa, Kenya, Australia and New Zealand.”
In 1965, she returned to the UK and started looking for the next thing. “I knew that there must be something somewhere for me, waiting, I didn’t know what it was… and then through some extraordinary coincidence I read an article in The Lady magazine”. That article described efforts by David Morris, a consultant paediatrician, and Susan Harvey, a Save the Children Fund (SCF) adviser, to set up play schemes in hospitals. Fired with enthusiasm, Mary volunteered with SCF and was later employed by them as a play specialist in Moorfields Eye Hospital. Children’s wards then were very different: “The children’s eyes were superbly looked after, but nobody really had any idea about little people, or how parents felt. There was no open visiting, no resident mothers – I had a hard task and it took me 20 years!”
Mary was paid £6 a week (not much, even in 1969) and was so successful during her first year that she persuaded the hospital to keep her on as an employee. She stayed until her retirement in 1989, becoming known to all as Aunty Mary. She was adamant from the start that her role should include the whole family, not just the child receiving treatment. “It was always open house (in the playroom) to all the brothers and sisters, so they didn’t feel left out. Every week, every child had a little gift to take home: I had a band of wonderful ladies who knitted and sewed and gave me money, so there was always a basket of goodies at the end of the day, and they all chose what they were going to take home. But there was always something to take home for the brothers and sisters too, so they knew they had been remembered.”
Mary paid particular attention to grandparents, who are often forgotten when a child is ill. She recalls inviting a couple who were very anxious about their grandson’s treatment to join her in the playroom one day. “They sat with the children and I soon got them involved – the grandpa playing cards with the boys and the granny at the Play-Doh table with the mums and the children – and the reward for me was so great, the big smile I got at the end when she said, ‘Thank you, we’ve had a wonderful time, I didn’t know children could be happy in hospital’. The seed was sown in my heart: now I’ve got to do more for grandparents. Grandparents have treble the pain: they have the pain of the grandchild, the pain of their children, and the pain that they have themselves. It’s very, very hard for grandparents.”
The children at Moorfields came from all over the world and had many different conditions, including cataracts, glaucoma and accidental injuries, but Mary soon found herself worrying about the retinoblastoma patients in particular.
In the early days, an EUA meant a stay of two or three days in hospital and many children ended up losing both eyes. The genetic aspects of retinoblastoma were not well understood, and Mary saw families where the parents did not know their medical history, only realising that their own blindness was due to retinoblastoma when their children were also born with the disease:
“There are some horrific stories I’ve heard in the past and it was very hard for me sometimes. But I had to keep going, I had to go the next day and be there for another batch of children.
“Alright, nobody wants to come, nobody wants to have drops in their eyes, and they don’t want these nasty things to happen. But that’s only part of the day. The rest of the day, in my mind, has to be good!”
In 1984, five years before she retired from Moorfields, Mary herself was treated for cancer. She was given three months off work to recover from surgery and radiotherapy and used that time to think how best to help the retinoblastoma families. In 1987, with her friend Jackie Martin, Mary joined the group of families and professionals who founded the Retinoblastoma Society (which later became CHECT). “At the first AGM, we were lent a room at Moorfields – but we bought the tea and the biscuits and had a raffle to make it a bit more interesting and homely and used the money for the next meeting and we went on from there.”
After retiring from Moorfields in 1989, Mary began a second career as retinoblastoma play specialist at Barts, where most of the retinoblastoma cases were treated. Her Play-Doh and colouring pencils were not initially welcomed on the ward, as it was feared that they would be messy and unhygienic. She soon won over the ward staff, and hundreds of children have since benefitted from her pioneering work.
Mary retired for good in 1998 – although at 83 she is not putting her feet up yet and can still sometimes be found in the CHECT office: “Audrey Allen, Sarah Hollyer and I go in together and we do the newsletters, stuff the envelopes and reminisce about the old days.”
Feeling that she needed to “cut the cords”, she recently donated all records of her time as a play specialist to Moorfields and Barts. These archives contain photographs, drawings and letters, as well as the card indexes and photograph books which carefully recorded the progress of each child on the ward. It is clear that Mary’s huge affection for all her “children” (many of whom are now in their forties!) was fully reciprocated, and she still receives many Christmas cards from her retinoblastoma families.
At the end of our interview, Mary asks after my son Alexander, who is having treatment at the Royal London for bilateral retinoblastoma. Her final words to me are typical of the forthright confidence with which she has supported so many families over the years. “If anyone in this world understands what you’ve been through, I do, because I’ve been through it with so many families. And it’s still very painful for me to even think about it sometimes. But you’ll win, you’ll be alright!”