With Fiona Hawthorne
by Sam Regi
In a story session with Fiona Hawthorne, we delve into the seminal moments of her life, shaping her commitment to service and leadership. As the former general manager of Hummingbird House, Fiona recalls stories from her life journey, painting a vivid picture of resilience, determination, and purpose. Through the echoes of her past, she unveils how she built a nurturing community by whispering, and then roaring her self-belief, encouraging us to own our potential, no matter the odds. This audio short serves as a testament to Fiona's pioneering spirit and her enduring impact on the world of palliative care.
Press play to listen to an extract from the conversation with Fiona.
“I created my own community and I sat back and I thought, if I don't back myself now, I will never, ever, ever back myself again. And I have to do it. And I also have to have the courage to say out loud, I am the best person for that job. Did I believe it? Not at all. Did I say it out loud? I whispered it. But by the time I finished at Hummingbird House, I roared it,” Fiona.
Fiona, can you tell me about the trajectory of your work and some key milestones along the way?
I left school and went straight into nursing. I was accepted to the Royal Brisbane Hospital, and my first day was a bit of a stumbling moment. They gave me all my uniforms, and everything had 'N. Bradbury' on it. I thought, 'That's not me, I’m F. Bradbury.' So I went up to the desk and said, 'I think I’ve got someone else’s uniform.' The woman replied, 'N stands for Nurse, love. Get used to it.'
That was a pivotal moment for me. I had to shift from being this individual, 'Ms. Independent,' to becoming part of a collective. In nursing, you learn to take orders in an emergency without question, and there's a hierarchy whether you like it or not. I did my training at the Royal and enjoyed it, though I hated night duty. Still, I loved what nursing taught me.
You’ve mentioned a significant moment in 1988. Can you share what happened and how it influenced your career?
Yes, in 1988, my father passed away suddenly—it was a catastrophic moment in my life. I was faced with two choices: I could lie down and die with him, or I could get up and move forward. Nursing gave me a perspective on life and death that not everyone gets. I had seen so many people die and so much sadness, but I’d also seen joy and resilience in the midst of it all.
One of the biggest wake-up calls for me came the morning after my father died. The woman next door was laughing and playing with her dog, and I thought, 'How dare you? My world has ended!' But that moment made me realize that life continues, no matter how much we want to stop it. So I decided to get up, to make him proud, and that has shaped everything I’ve done since.
How did that experience change your approach to nursing?
It made me see the world differently. I was no longer just a nurse; I was someone who had faced real grief. I grew up fast, and I started looking at things critically. The bubble I had been living in—the one where everything went well—was gone. I became a daughter without a father, and that changed me. Seeing other people's fathers turn up for them was tough, but I had to accept it—it just was.
I realized then how much I loved nursing, but I hated what nurses were doing to it. My father had always talked about integrity, and that became important to me. I decided I wanted to make a real difference, so I moved into nursing education. I began teaching and had both of my babies during that time. But eventually, teaching became repetitive, and I started feeling restless.
What led to your next step?
After a while, I got bored. Teaching the same material over and over just wasn’t fulfilling anymore. With all respect to my colleagues, I felt like I wasn’t making a difference. Maybe it was me. Maybe I wasn’t doing enough, but either way, I wasn’t happy staying where I was.
Fiona on film.
That's when I did the first of my infamous moves in my career, which was, I wonder what else is out there?
I stumbled across genetic counseling—something shiny, as I call it—and thought, That’s for me. I applied, and if I’m being honest, I told a few white lies during the interview. They asked if I’d be willing to relocate, and I said yes at the drop of a hat, but in reality, I had no intention of moving. I just wanted the master's because I knew I needed to keep learning. It felt like something new to dive into, but with a strong thread of justice, helping vulnerable communities, and supporting people. That drew me to specialize in prenatal counseling, where I eventually met a lifelong friend who mentored me.
You mentioned prenatal counseling. How did that experience shape your next steps?
It was during my time in prenatal counseling that I decided to pursue a PhD. I kept having women come in, talking about prenatal screening, and when I’d ask, "Why are you here?" they’d say things like, "Because my doctor told me to," or "My husband said I should." I found that frustrating because it felt like their own voices were missing from the conversation. I wanted them to think for themselves and ask, What do you want? But I wasn’t getting anywhere in the system. I realized I needed a title to get through to people. So, the competitive side of me thought, what’s better than being a doctor? Being a proper doctor—a PhD. So I completed my research on the sources of influence around prenatal screening. But even after I earned my PhD, I found that the medical system wasn’t exactly interested in my title. They respected it, sure, but it didn’t open as many doors as I had hoped.
It seems like your career kept evolving. What came next after the PhD?
After the PhD, the funding for my position ran out, so I shifted back into teaching, but this time in medicine. I worked in the School of Medicine for a while before my contract ended, and I found myself unemployed for a grand total of 24 hours. That's when I took a short-term job as a clinical ethicist at a hospital. Did I know what a clinical ethicist did? I’d read about it, sure, but I didn’t really think I was qualified. Still, I was determined to give it a go. Around this time, I had just finished or was about to finish my PhD—it's a bit of a blur now.
You’ve worn many hats throughout your career. How did you get involved with patient safety and public service?
After my stint as a clinical ethicist, I moved into patient safety for the Queensland Government. I learned a lot there. I had my PhD, and by that point, I had been awarded my Churchill Fellowship as well. I thought my life was set as a public servant. But then, a serendipitous phone call changed everything. I was standing in a fitting room, trying on jeans, wondering if they made my bum look big—like most women do—and my phone rang. I never answer unknown numbers, but for some reason, I picked up. It was a neonatologist from Adelaide who had found my Churchill Fellowship report.
He wanted to present it to the Federal Government's inquiry into palliative care because I had recommended a perinatal hospice.
That’s incredible. How did that phone call shape your career moving forward?
I gave him my permission to use the report and then went on with life. But soon after, I was asked to be a researcher for the outcome of that inquiry, which recommended a pediatric hospice in Queensland. Around this time, I started presenting my Churchill Fellowship results, talking about what a perinatal hospice might look like. That’s when I met Gabrielle Quilliam at a conference. She was juggling the challenges of being a working mom—hunched over a phone in a corridor, trying to arrange someone to pick up her child from school. I offered her a ride to the airport, and we got to talking. She asked me if I’d be interested in getting involved with a children’s hospice in Queensland. At first, I said no. I was focused on my own work.
But it sounds like fate had other plans. How did you ultimately become involved with Hummingbird House?
Yes, fate—or something—kept putting Gabrielle and her husband Paul in my path. Over the next two years, I’d randomly bump into them in the city. Each time, they’d ask me questions, and I’d offer advice. Eventually, they asked me to write the job description for the general manager position at Hummingbird House. I did, and I remember thinking, This job is enormous. I even told Gabrielle, "I pity the person who takes this on!" Then she asked me, "Do you want it?" I laughed it off at first, but the more I thought about it, the more the idea nagged at me.
What ultimately made you decide to go for it?
It was one of those moments you talk about with your life partner. I asked my husband, "What if I go for this?" And he just looked at me and said, "I don’t know why you’ve waited this long." So, I made the decision to apply. I called Gabrielle and told her, “I’m not going to sit on the interview panel anymore because I’m going to apply for the job.” And I got it.
How did it feel when you finally got the job?
There have been two moments in my life where I had to sit down because the enormity of what I was doing hit me. The first was when I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, Bronte. The second was when I was awarded the position of General Manager of Hummingbird House. I remember thinking, Kid, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, but you’d better learn how to handle it. None of us had ever done this before, but I felt like all the experiences and wisdom I’d gained from patient safety, working with vulnerable people, and everything my parents had instilled in me had led me to this point.