I associate myself with everything that Clare Adamson says in her motion and said in her excellent speech. I recognise Breast Cancer Now awareness day 2025 and commend the vital work of Breast Cancer Now, which is the UK’s leading breast cancer research and support charity.

I recognise, as Clare Adamson said, that the wear it pink campaign is an effective way of raising awareness. I am a week late—I see that the Cabinet Secretary for Health and Social Care is also wearing pink—but I recognise the importance of the campaign, of showing solidarity and of communities demonstrating that they stand with people who are affected by breast cancer. It is a simple act, but it carries a powerful message of compassion and hope.

I thank God for the professionalism and compassion of the people who treated my wife, Yvonne, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. No one forgets the moment when the words, “You have cancer” are spoken. The room falls silent, the world narrows and your heart sinks with fear for the one you love. In that moment, everything depends on the people around you. For Yvonne and me, it was the breast screening services team in Glasgow—it was they who first told Yvonne. I will never forget the quiet calm with which they broke the news. There was no panic, no bluntness and no false reassurance—just steady, compassionate professionalism. They explained what the diagnosis meant and what the pathway ahead would look like, treating Yvonne not as a statistic but as a woman with fears, hopes and a family who loved her.

The consultant surgeon who cared for Yvonne was equally remarkable. With clarity and sensitivity, she guided us through what surgery would involve. Her calm authority, patience and absolute dedication gave us reassurance at a time of great fear and uncertainty.

After surgery, Yvonne’s treatment moved to the Beatson West of Scotland Cancer Centre in Glasgow. I pay the highest tribute to the staff there. They were at the cutting edge of cancer treatment. However, what struck me most was their humanity. They did not simply deliver treatment—they cared. They knew Yvonne’s name, they asked after her wellbeing, and they invested themselves in her recovery as though she were one of their own. I saw that same care extended to every patient who walked through those doors. I cannot speak highly enough of them. To this day, my gratitude is without limit, because they gave me my wife, and they gave us both the chance of time together—something never again to be taken for granted.

That experience taught me that breast cancer is not borne by the patient alone; it is shared by husbands, wives, children, families and friends. I want to pay special tribute to Jo Churchill, the former Member of Parliament for Bury St Edmunds and a two-time cancer survivor. During Yvonne’s treatment, Jo’s empathy and wisdom were a lifeline to me. Her support reminded me that compassion and solidarity matter almost as much as treatment.

The statistics remain sobering. Around 5,500 people are diagnosed with breast cancer in Scotland each year, and 1,000 die. Too many still wait too long for a diagnosis. Too many lack access to genomic testing. Secondary breast cancer—for which there is no cure, as was mentioned earlier—still blights lives.

We must be ambitious. That means resourcing our screening programme in order to achieve the 80 per cent target, collecting proper data on secondary breast cancer and ensuring access to new treatments and genomic testing on the national health service, not just private access.

In support of the motion and of Clare Adamson’s speech, I say let us wear pink with pride. Let us raise funds. Let us commit to ensuring that Scotland leads in research, treatment and care. In doing so, we give hope to those who live with breast cancer today and to those who will face it tomorrow. [ Applause .]