Post 8 May 2025

Dr Alan Gray’s achievements were never officially recognised by any royal honour or honorary doctorate. Extraordinary really, given the length and weight of his list of achievements.

They include being central to the establishment and administration of two palliative care units: Mary Potter Hospice in Wellington and the King Faisal Specialist Hospital & Research Centre in Riyadh, each being their country’s first.

He was medical director of the Cancer Society during the Cartwright committee hearings and was vigorous in his pursuit of the prevention of cancer – particularly the campaign against smoking – and its early detection including by breast and cervical screening.

He founded and led the Coalition for Public Health, probably contributing more than any other single person to the rejection of the proposed commercialisation (Americanisation) of the public health system (although there were many others who made impressive contributions).

He was once congratulated by journalists for his role in the sacking of a struggling Minister of Health because of the pressure the CPH had put on the government.

Once asked whether it bothered him that he was not given wider public recognition, he said it didn’t, he “just wanted to be listened to”. But there was another dimension of the man. Walk with him along the street and he would be repeatedly stopped by those who wanted to thank him for his kindness and concern as oncologist and radiologist to them or a family member, or by a doctor or nurse who appreciated him as a colleague.

He almost did not make the medical profession. His father died when Alan was in his early teens and he left school at 15 to run the family farm. He loved farming, but he did University Entrance by correspondence, going on to do a medical degree at the University of Otago and then Fellowships in Radiotherapy, Internal Medicine and Oncology.

His medical interests were wide. He spent some years in Saudi Arabia. Above his desk was the call-back list by specialties. He was the only one on three of them – oncology, radiology, palliative care – no other doctor was on more than one. He was frequently informally consulted by friends about various medical issues.

He would give clear guidance (but always referring them to the doctor in charge of the case) or would look the issue up and come back to the questioner. After retirement as a clinician he was an external clinical adviser for ACC and would devote hours in a medical library reading the literature relevant to the case.

Although he might be thought of as a Wellington doctor, he at various times practised in Auckland, Hamilton, Nelson, Palmerston North and the Wairarapa, as well as Canada, England and Saudi Arabia. He was really a kind of specialist general practitioner – a general internal physician particularly skilled in the treatment of cancer with its many impacts on the body’s function and the patient’s and their family’s wellbeing.

Perhaps he retired at 67 because his approach was holistic, while professional specialisms were getting narrower and it was increasingly hard to meet the high standards of broad knowledge that he expected of himself.

So he went back to his farming, managing a flock of Wiltshire sheep – the fifth generation of his family to work that block of land. It was sustainable management and the family covenanted the bush on the land as a nature reserve. He supported his Pauatahanui community just as he had supported patients and medical colleagues.

In his late 70s he learned he had incurable myeloma – a blood cancer. He prepared for the inevitable by slowly winding down, handing over the farm to a sixth generation when he was 83.

He never gave up his interest in medicine. His immediate reaction to the End of Life Choice referendum was to oppose the proposal. His deep commitment to medical ethics with its Hippocratic Oath, together with his involvement in the development of palliative care, meant he thought that doctors should not take lives.

However, he came to see that the choice was about providing the quality of life which had been his primary concern throughout his medical career; he voted for the proposal.

As he neared his 88th birthday he found the side effects of his medication were becoming increasingly unbearable and he chose the end-of-life option. He died with the same dignity which had he had given to so many of his patients and those who use benefit from the palliative care he pioneered.

He leaves behind Christine Stanley, his daughters Ruth, Christine, Toni, and Hannah, grandson Deejay, his farm dog Belle and a lifetime of achievement.

– Written by Brian Easton with assistance of Alan’s family, friends and colleagues.