I would like to tell you a story about a boy, a hero of mine.

Harvey Buster Baldwin was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia aged six and spent many weeks in Worthing hospital, where I worked as a biomedical scientist. As an inquisitive six-year-old he asked questions about his blood. We arranged for Harvey to visit the pathology laboratory to try and answer some of his questions. I took Harvey around the lab, showing him all the specialist equipment we use, and we looked down the microscope to see his own red cells, platelets and white cells. Harvey went away with all the answers to the questions he had been asking, and I felt like I had made a difference to this young man’s life.

Harvey Baldwin visited the pathology lab in July 2013. Photograph: Malcolm Robinson

Over the next 18 months Harvey fought a massive battle with leukaemia. He had help from biomedical scientists, teams of doctors, paediatric nurses and play specialists in the laboratories and Worthing and Royal Marsden hospitals. He also had some bone marrow donated from his brother. Harvey lost his battle aged eight. I learnt of the story of his life after he had visited the lab with all of his questions, from his mum, his consultant paediatrician and the play specialists. He relished having the white lab coat and ID badge that we gave him. He lorded over doctors in his lab coat, as he was a scientist, and he accessed rooms with his ID card. He didn’t know that the nurses let him in by pressing a button after Harvey swiped his ID card – after all, it was made of cardboard. He enjoyed teasing the nursing staff by locking them in cupboards and he would share his newfound knowledge with his fellow patients.

I attended Harvey’s farewell, where the story of his life was told, including his short time with me. His parents, Richard and Claire, put the photograph of him and I in our white coats on the large LCD screen at the Worthing crematorium. I was an emotional wreck, I was not expecting to be talked about and thanked, and I didn’t know that chatting to Harvey had had such an effect on his short life.

I was later told that six other children could benefit from a tour around the lab, to help them understand more about their samples and to empower them with knowledge. This is how Harvey’s Gang began. As scientists, we reflect; what went well, what didn’t and what can we do better. I took this on board when I was thinking about how I could adapt the idea and take it forward. We named it Harvey’s Gang after Harvey. We looked at getting a white laboratory coat that would fit children, a certificate of attendance, an ID badge and a goody bag filled with useful things. A colleague of mine made our first white coat for a child from a threadbare NHS white sheet. We designed a logo and I arranged for the trust’s security department to produce ID badges. I raised the idea of goody bags with the ortho clinical diagnostics department and I shared our story with them. We named our new blood grouping analyser, Harvey. I designed our certificates of attendance, so that children and young people, as well as their parents or guardians, had a reminder of a happy day in hospital.

Harvey’s Gang was formed to allow young people with long-term health conditions and needle phobias to visit medical laboratories and see what happens to their blood. One of our aims is for this to be a part of all children’s healthcare pathways. We are now registered as a charity and will continue to encourage to help children and young people to have an understanding of their illness. We’ve received national recognition and I was awarded the Kate Granger team award for compassionate care. Harvey’s Gang continues to grow and expand.

We always make a point to show the children on a Harvey’s Gang tour our machine, dedicated to Harvey, and his plaque that can be found on display in our laboratory in Worthing hospital. It’s thanks to him that we started on this journey and when I walk around the laboratory I am reminded of him and am glad I can help others in his name.

To see such smiles and laughter must help these young people; it certainly helps me.

If you would like to contribute to our Blood, sweat and tears series about experiences in healthcare, read our guidelines and get in touch by emailing sarah.johnson@theguardian.com.

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