- Ally had always been close with her brother, Bradley, even after she moved to Perth, WA and he remained in Sydney, NSW.
- In 2022, she visited Bradley in Sydney and noticed he’d lost a lot of weight during the COVID pandemic.
- Shortly after, while Ally was back in Perth, Bradley told her he had a tooth infection.
- By the next morning, Bradley was dead.
- Ally Valentine, 33, from Perth, WA shares her story below.
Frantically scanning the large room in the museum, I couldn’t find a familiar face.
I’m lost, I thought with a sinking dread.
It was 1999, and at eight years old, I was on vacation care with my older brother, Bradley, nine.
Read more: Botched! I paid $33k and dodgy dentist left me toothless!
Eventually, I approached a stranger.
“‘Scuse me,” I said nervously, “I’m lost.”
“I don’t speak English,” she said, confused.
Minutes later, I rounded a corner and found other kids I knew.
Running over to Bradley, I burst into tears. Finally, I felt safe.
When I told him what had happened, he shook his head.
“People should always learn the phrase ‘I’m lost’ so they can help kids like you,” he declared.
That was his matter-of-fact way of saying he cared.
Brad would never wander off. He always stuck to the rules, liked routine, and resisted change.
We’d grown up in Hornsby, NSW, but later when my family relocated to Perth in the 2000s, Brad chose to stay put.
In his 20s, he had a solid group of mates and a steady job as an executive at Optus.
After we’d left, Brad had moved into a unit with his two cats.
In 2018, I married Joseph, 39, with Brad as an honorary groomsman.
Joseph loved my two boys, Joshua, six, and Xavier, five, from a previous relationship, and Bradley did, too, flying over to visit us when he could.
Two years later, as COVID hit, we only got to see him through a computer screen.
I worried about him living on his own and during family Zoom calls, noticed he was lacking his usual vibrancy.
In early 2022, I was allowed to fly to Sydney for my job as a marriage celebrant.
I’m here. Wanna go for dinner? I messaged Brad.
He agreed to meet me and I was instantly struck by how thin he’d become.
“COVID’s changed my lifestyle,” he said with a shrug when I mentioned it to him. “I’m not getting out much.”
It seemed odd that he’d lose weight by not leaving the house, but as we talked, his dry sense of humour slowly re-emerged and I let it go.
He told me he was enjoying his new work as a business analyst.
Back home, I texted Brad to ask if he wanted to join our new family group chat.
I can’t think about that now, he replied. I’m in immense pain with an infection.
What kind of infection? I asked.
What kind are there? he shot back.
It was unusually sarcastic for him.
Mum later told me a toothache was shooting pain right down to Brad’s jawbone.
He’d seen a dentist a couple of days earlier and was booked in for an extraction.
Next morning, Sunday July 17, 2022, I texted Brad to check on him. I got no response.
He’s probably sleeping off the pain, I reasoned.
Later, Mum and Dad said they hadn’t heard from him either.
I was growing concerned. When he still didn’t answer on Monday, I panicked.
“He wouldn’t sleep for over 24 hours. Do you think he’s died?” I stressed to Joe, fearing the worst.
“No, no,” he reassured me, “he’s probably in hospital.”
Still, I had a horrible feeling I couldn’t shake.
That night, I was cooking dinner when Dad called.
“It’s about Brad,” his voice trembled.
I knew then my fears were confirmed.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” I stammered.
“Yes,” he sobbed. “The police just came by.”
All they’d been able to say was that Brad had been found dead in his unit that day. He was 33.
Joe and I had not long welcomed a daughter, Mischa into the world.
She’ll never know her uncle, I thought in tears.
Next day, Mum, Dad and I flew to Sydney, all of us still in shock.
We met Brad’s manager, who’d found him on the kitchen floor.
“He was meant to be working from home but when he didn’t log on, I came round to check on him,” she said. Fortunately, his door was unlocked.
It was heartbreaking to think of Brad, in excruciating pain, taking his final breath alone.
How could a toothache lead to this?
After the coroner’s examination Brad’s body was flown to Perth for the funeral.
We were told it would take up to six months to get the report – too long to wait for answers.
I gave the eulogy and with so many tributes from loved ones, I ended up speaking for 45 minutes.
“I know Brad wouldn’t like to see us being miserable,” I declared, “but losing him is worth being miserable about.”
Six months passed and we still hadn’t heard from the coroner.
I began sending regular emails asking for updates but was repeatedly told it wasn’t ready.
In August 2023, over a year since Brad’s death, I emailed again, asking them to tell us what had been concluded so far.
The whole thing’s done, came the blunt response, attaching a PDF.
I was relieved but frustrated. A grieving family shouldn’t have to pester people for answers.
Shockingly, Brad’s cause of death was diabetic ketoacidosis, a serious diabetes complication where the body produces excess blood acids. He’d never been diagnosed.
The report added that his tooth infection was also a significant condition contributing to the death, explaining it could cause an increase in certain hormones that work against the effects of insulin and
contribute to diabetic ketoacidosis.
After reading the report, my parents were in disbelief.
Mum is a type 2 diabetic herself, but we hadn’t made any genetic association.
If Brad had seen a doctor sooner, it could’ve been easily treated with insulin.
But my brother’s stoic personality and resolve to stay home during COVID as per health orders, meant he never did.
Although ‘what ifs’ are haunting, the explanation for his sudden passing has given us some closure.
In August last year, Joe and I had another child who we named Joseph Bradley in his uncle’s honour.
At home, I’ve set up a shrine with pictures of Brad and his ashes so my kids will always know him.
The only thing worse than my brother being gone is him ever being forgotten.
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