After more than 50 years working as a cabinetmaker and joiner, Kerry was diagnosed with plasma cell myeloma. Throughout his career, he worked around timber dust, chemicals, solvents, glues and fumes, often without the protections workers expect today.
When symptoms first appeared, Kerry thought the loss of strength in his hands and arms was simply part of getting older. His diagnosis forced him to step away from a trade he loved and adapt to a life shaped by fatigue, pain and uncertainty.
Support from family, healthcare professionals, and the myeloma community has helped him navigate the challenges of living with cancer.
With the help of Maurice Blackburn, Kerry secured compensation that has eased financial pressures and provided peace of mind for the future.
Kerry still spends his days building things, just on a smaller scale than he once did.
These days, the former cabinetmaker potters at his own pace on the regional Queensland property he shares with his partner Carol. When fatigue sets in, he rests. When his strength gives out, he stops and comes back to it another day.
One of his biggest projects is transforming half an acre of bush behind their home into a rainforest walk, complete with pathways winding beneath towering trees and new plantings taking shape. It's a project that means more than just landscaping.
"That's why I've got to stay around long enough," Kerry says. "I've got to finish it first."
Building has been part of Kerry's life for more than 50 years. Since leaving school as a teenager, he's built furniture, kitchens, hospital fitouts, and commercial joinery across Queensland. It's work he's always been proud of.
What he didn't know was that decades spent working around dust, fumes, glues, solvents and chemicals could one day leave him facing a diagnosis of plasma cell myeloma, a cancer that develops in the bone marrow.
Today, Kerry is living with the realities of that diagnosis. But he's also focused on making the most of the time he has with Carol, their family, and projects that still bring him joy.
Kerry knew early on that he wanted to work with his hands.
After finishing school, he applied for apprenticeships and waited anxiously for a response.
"I thought nobody wanted me," he says.
Then, after businesses reopened following the Christmas shutdown, everything changed.
"Within three days I had two letters asking if I wanted an apprenticeship and three phone calls."
He began a carpentry and joinery apprenticeship in the early 1970s and never looked back.
"My first job was to go through and fill up all the glue bottles for the blokes in the factory, which is probably part of the problem," he says.
Over the next five decades, Kerry worked throughout Queensland, building everything from furniture and kitchens to large-scale commercial and hospital projects. He became known as someone who could solve problems, create something from nothing, and take pride in a job done properly.
That love of building followed him home. When he and Carol first got together more than 30 years ago, Kerry built furniture for their house himself.
"I built a bedhead and bedside tables," he recalls. "All the drawers were dovetail joints."
Over the years, he built kitchens for their homes, tackled renovation projects, and continued creating things simply because he enjoyed it.
Even now, he's still at it.
Recently, he built a swing for his chickens.
"They're not using it yet," he jokes. "I'm going to take it off them if they don't use it soon."
For most of Kerry's working life, exposure to dust, fumes and chemicals was simply considered part of the job.
Cabinetmaking and joinery regularly involved cutting, sanding, and machining timber products, creating fine dust that settled on workers' clothes, skin, and hair. Solvents, glues, sealants and other chemical products were used daily.
"Back in those days, there was no such thing as masks," Kerry says. "No PPE at all. No one was really talking or thinking about health risks or long-term consequences."
It wasn't uncommon to work surrounded by dust all day. Looking back, Kerry believes many workers simply weren't warned about the risks they faced.
"I mean, it wasn't probably until the 2000s before they decided that concrete dust is no good for you."
By then, many workers had already spent decades breathing in dust and working with chemicals without adequate protection.
For most of his life, Kerry considered himself healthy. Then he started noticing pain in his hands and forearms. More concerning was the loss of strength.
"The pain wasn't too bad. It'd come and go," he says. "But it's the fact that I just couldn't grip and hold onto stuff. I was losing a lot of strength."
At first, he put it down to getting older. But blood tests revealed anaemia, leading to further investigations and eventually a referral to a haematologist.
When the possibility of myeloma was first raised, Kerry was shocked.
"I was sort of a bit dumbfounded," he says.
After receiving the news, he walked back to his car trying to process what he'd been told.
"I got out of the room a bit numb. Then I got to my car, and you have time to think, and then you think, 'Oh, maybe there's lots of questions I could have asked her.'"
Like many people facing an unexpected cancer diagnosis, he found himself searching for answers. Support came from places he hadn't expected.
Kerry reached out to a myeloma support organisation and spoke with specialist nurses and people living with the disease.
"Any time I needed to ring them, they'd put me onto somebody that already had it for a few years."
Those conversations helped him make sense of a frightening and uncertain situation.
Years before his diagnosis, Kerry spent six months helping fit out an oncology department. Watching patients support one another and remain positive stayed with him.
His team lined walls with pine panelling, installed cabinetry and upgraded spaces to make them feel brighter and more welcoming for patients spending long periods receiving treatment.
"I got to know a lot of the patients while we were there, and I thought, 'If I ever get cancer, I'm going to be like these guys,' because everyone had such a good attitude towards life and their treatments and recovery."
It was a lesson he would draw on years later when he became a patient himself.
"I knew there was help out there. The people support each other."
Myeloma has changed Kerry's life in so many ways. The fatigue can be overwhelming. Activities that once came naturally now require rest and careful pacing. These days, even the projects he loves require a different approach.
"It's got me down a fair bit," Kerry says. "I get tired, and I have to go rest and sit down after I've just been doing stuff around the yard."
The rainforest walk he and Carol are creating has become a labour of love, completed little by little between periods of rest.
Not long ago, Kerry could work a full 10-hour day on site, then spend hours driving home.
Today, he measures progress differently: a few hours in the garden, a new pathway, another tree planted.
Not working has also meant leaving behind the thing he misses most.
"The main thing I miss is all the friends I had at work."
For decades, construction sites and project teams provided friendship, laughter, and camaraderie.
But while work has faded into the background, family has become even more important.
Kerry and Carol have 11 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren between them. Time spent with them has taken on a new significance since his diagnosis.
One moment in particular has stayed with him. After learning about the cancer, Kerry ran into one of his grandsons at work. Usually, their greetings were casual and understated. Instead, his grandson walked over and wrapped him in a hug.
"He's always been a good kid," Kerry says. "But that made me nearly cry."
While compensation couldn't change his diagnosis, it recognised what he'd been exposed to over decades of work and gave him financial security moving forward.
For Kerry, the focus remains on the things that matter most: His family, his partner Carol, the property they've created together, and the rainforest walk that is slowly taking shape beneath the trees.
There is still work to do, and like every project he's tackled throughout his life, Kerry intends to see it through.
"That's why I've got to stay around long enough," he says. "I've got to finish it first."
For decades, many Australian workers were exposed to dust, chemicals, fumes, and other hazardous substances without adequate protection or warnings about the risks.
If you've been diagnosed with myeloma, cancer, or another serious illness and believe your work may have contributed to your condition, Maurice Blackburn's experienced occupational disease lawyers may be able to help.
We provide clear guidance through your legal options and work on a No Win, No Fee basis, so you only pay legal fees if your case is successful.
Our team of experienced dust disease lawyers are here to help you understand your legal options and to ensure you get the compensation you're entitled to.
Document exposure now in case you develop an asbestos related disease later. This can help you with a future compensation claim.
Our experienced lawyers have a long history of fighting for the rights of people suffering from asbestos, silica and other dust related illnesses. If you've been diagnosed with a dust disease, you may have a claim for compensation.
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