18 OPINION
18 OPINION
13 FEBRUARY 2026 ausdoc. com. au
Insight
My father was the best dad in the world
Dr Rachel Glasson GP in Sydney, NSW.
But I have only just discovered that he was a medical pioneer.
MY father, Dr Martin Glasson, died quite suddenly in October last year.
He was a retired paediatric surgeon, and although I always knew he was the best father in the world, only after his death did I discover that he was also a true pioneer in the field of paediatric surgery.
He almost didn’ t become a doctor, though.
His own father, a country GP in Wellington, NSW, died from a stroke aged just 53, when my father was about to finish school and head to university.
Dad’ s family were against his plan to study medicine, saying it was too stressful and that overwork had killed his father. So, he spent three years studying agricultural science at the University of Sydney, before eventually transferring to study medicine after all. He graduated in 1963.
During his residency and the start of his surgical training at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital in Sydney, Dad met, no doubt, many young nurses.
But it was in 1966, while doing a fellowship at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London, that he married the bossiest and smartest of them all, my mother.
They soon travelled overland back to Australia from the UK, passing through countries one would scarcely dare to visit nowadays, such as Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. They camped and travelled on crowded buses most of the way, and it’ s really a miracle that they made it back unscathed.
On their return, Dad settled into working as one of the first staff specialist surgeons at the Royal Alexandra Hospital for Children in Sydney.
In fact, he was the first surgeon there to have been specifically trained in paediatric rather than adult surgery. As small kids, my twin brother and I knew little about what our father did at the hospital. We busied ourselves counting stairs on weekend ward rounds there with him, visiting the various levels of the hospital, usually accompanied by a registrar or two. He worked long hours but was present for us and played a big role in our lives.
Being a staff specialist, he was at the hospital all day and was able to provide care to patients and their families in a way that honorary visiting surgeons could not.
‘ The Health Department bean counters would have a stroke.’
Dr Rachel Glasson with her father in Scotland,
Christmas 2006.
As such, he was also able to advocate for and work towards some radical changes in the way things were done.
Burns unit
In 1974, Dad was very involved with the management of children with severe burns, to the extent that he campaigned for, and was subsequently involved in, the setting up of the first dedicated paediatric burns unit in NSW. He was also the head of this unit for a number of years.
In response to one of his patients who had complex medical, psychological and social issues associated with a severe burn injury, my father started to meet weekly with every discipline that was involved in this patient’ s care. Each was expected to contribute information on what progress was being made, what barriers existed and what plans were in place.
This sort of multidisciplinary team meeting is familiar to anyone who has ever worked as a junior hospital doctor, but back then, it was new and radical. My father’ s advocacy for this sort of meeting resulted in its incorporation into routine care.
All my brother and I knew about Dad’ s involvement with the burns unit was that we weren’ t allowed to set off fireworks on cracker night, and we were pretty annoyed about that.
Day-stay surgery
Another area in which my father’ s influence and foresight left an enormous mark on the practice of paediatric surgery was the introduction of day-stay surgery.
Back in the early 1970s, all patients to be operated on were admitted the day before and discharged home the day after their surgery, no matter how minor.
This was the unquestioned norm, but my
Dr Martin Glasson, circa 1990.
father— supported by his colleagues and a charge nurse, Sister Ollie Elliot, who overcame conservatism on the nursing side— changed it.
It was my dad who had the courage to question the dogma, the foresight to think of a different model, the energy to start the change and the persistence to overcome other people’ s conservatism.
Imagine routine two-night stays for minor surgery nowadays: the Health Department bean counters would have a stroke just thinking about the amount of money being wasted.
Meanwhile, as teenagers and then young adults, my brother and I could not have wished for a more loving, devoted father.
He was endlessly supportive, showing up with care packages of oranges and Space Food Sticks every week when we had moved out of home; endlessly patient and caring, as we made some questionable life choices; and always standing by to help pick up the pieces when it all came crashing down, as it sometimes did.
Recent years, particularly during and after COVID-19, were difficult for Dad. Despite having referred to himself as“ old and decrepit” since his early 40s, it was only after his final hip replacement in 2022 that he started to seem a bit that way for real.
Getting older meant losing the ability to be active and do the things he enjoyed, and although Dad didn’ t like it much, he bore it all with his usual stoic reserve.
Over the final 18 months of his life, I was able to do much more for my father, keeping him living at home until it was no longer possible and giving back to him in the same unquestioningly supportive way that he had always been there for me during my whole life.
As his colleague Dr Hugh Martin said at Dad’ s funeral:“ He made the world a better place.”
I count myself lucky to have been his daughter. Rest in peace, Dadda.