My Story
A journey through darkness to find purpose
Hi. I'm Ryan. I'm in my early 30s, and based out in the leafy suburbs of Southeast Melbourne. And this is my story. It's going to be a long one.
Having been a dad for two years, a husband for five, and having lived out of home for nearly a decade, I was someone who used to think I understood what "tough times" meant.
Boy, was I wrong, as the times were about to get a whole lot worse.
Our livelihoods, as we knew it, began to shatter in June 2023.
My wife, Kim, had been noticing something off about our 2-year-old son Chase's left eye. And what started off as a partial retina detachment, possibly from a fall he had at childcare, very quickly spiralled out of control - turning into a parent's worst nightmare.
From when Kim first noticed the cloudiness in his eye, it took one week for us to learn that Chase had a partial retina detachment - likely due to physical trauma.
By the end of the second week, we were at the Victorian Eye and Ear, and following roundtable discussions with some of the world's best ophthalmologists and paediatric retina surgeons, we were given Chase's diagnosis.
"Yep, 20% vision in his left eye is still better than none, right?"
Fast forward a week ahead, we found ourselves at the Royal Children's, and had been advised that we should enucleate his left eye. His retina had been detached for too long, it was no longer salvageable.
All the while, I had been very obedient to the doctor's suggestions and recommendations; but when it came to this, I remember trying to fight so hard just to retain his eye. It's his eye, the one that he looks up to me with.
We had one week before the operation date, and we spent the week spoiling him with anything he wanted, taking him out to places, sleepovers with friends, and a final photoshoot for remembrance.
When his eye was removed, I felt a piece of my heart or soul was also gone.
What came after that was a period of stability. Nothing more could happen from here onwards. And at the very least, this must be rock bottom, I thought to myself.
We were getting accustomed to our new reality, and we really did think that was it. My partner was even willing to go to Chase's first follow-up appointment on her own, as I had an exam to study for that night.
See, the thing about life is that it's contradictory. It's kind, and it's also cruel. And when it's kind, it can be kind for a long, long while. And when it's cruel, it can be cruel without letting up one bit.
That evening, all on her own, Kim was given Chase's cancer diagnosis.
I rushed over as soon as I heard.
Turns out, it was cancer that peeled off his retina, and while his eye had been enucleated, the cancer cells were already aggressively invading his optic nerves.
The next stop? Well. His brain.
At this very point, both of us felt the ground collapse underneath us.
And we fell.
And kept falling for a very long time.
The next few months was a blur to me. Kim and Chase stayed at the hospital for about 70% of the time. I was constantly running in and out, between our home, the hospital and my parent's.
There were some moments of joy, but many more moments of grief, despair and anger.
I lost a lot of myself. I was no longer the same individual. I no longer had any positivity, no spark. I turned very cold to myself, and to everyone around me.
I drank a lot, to either forget, or if I couldn't, then to numb the intensity of the pain I was feeling, or just to slow down the many thoughts I had swirling through my mind at the time.
We left for the States in October that year, so that Chase could undergo Proton Radiation Therapy. Proton wasn't available in Australia, but was theoretically the safest option for him.
Nothing comes for free in life. And in Chase's case, the proton radiation therapy also has its fallbacks. We just need to carefully think through the options which we are presented with, then choose the least harmful choice.
And upon our return at the very end of 2023, Chase had finished his cancer treatment program.
Only upon completing his treatment was I able to properly process all that had happened.
My mental health took a huge toll.
I was trapped in a dark space for some time.
But in those moments of loneliness, one of the bright memories I carried close to my heart was the countless acts of kindness from friends, family, and strangers alike.
Finding Purpose in Pain
With a renewed sense of motivation and a sudden burst in vigour and determination, I redefined my purpose in life:
To support and alleviate the toll on those who may be affected by childhood cancer.
Alpha Insights
Drawing on my 7-year career as a buy-side equity research analyst, I decided to leverage these skills—my best asset—to create something meaningful.
After several months of locking myself away, I emerged from my home office with an AI-powered equity research provider, capable of providing institutional-grade coverage on almost every stock in the market.
Alpha Insights is more than a business—it's a mission to pay forward the kindness we received.
A portion of our proceeds goes directly to childhood cancer-related causes.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
As of 2025, Chase has been cleared of any further signs of cancer.
We also welcomed our second child, and baby sister to Chase - Kira, to the world on the 2nd of April 2025.
My "why" sleeps in the room next to mine, minus one eye but plus infinite courage.
I'm not a guru. I'm not promising riches.
I'm a dad who learnt that life can change in an instant.
Who discovered that true strength comes from community.
Who believes that good research shouldn't be reserved for the wealthy.
And I'm someone who's turning the worst thing that ever happened to my family into something that might help yours.
Part of every subscription supports childhood cancer families.
Because no one should face that fight alone.