KATH KOSCHEL

Medallist

Living with a broken heart

At 23, Kath Koschel was living out her childhood dream. Having landed a spot with state squad NSW Breakers, the “self-confessed cricket nut” debuted as player of the match in her very first professional game.

Koschel thought she was on the cusp of great things. But instead, four matches in, Koschel suffered a serious back injury which put paid to her ever playing the game she adored again.

What followed was a series of painful back surgeries, a threat of amputation and a gruelling rehab stint. It also introduced her to Jim — the man she calls the “love of her life”.

The pair met during Koschel’s road to learning to walk again. However, just 12 months later he took his own life, a devastating event which inspired her to create a movement to repay the kindness paid her way during that dark time.

Today Koschel runs not-for-profit charity the Kindness Factory. In addition to speaking engagements to raise money for a variety of causes, she logs the acts of kindness she enacts for those in her community. Others can also log their own, with the aim to have one million acts of kindness recorded by 2020.

“It just made me feel good to help other people,” Koschel modestly says of what started her journey.

Koschel first became aware of her back injury after her left foot became numb in 2012. The first surgery didn’t take. Two more followed before she was told amputation was necessary.

“For me, that was never an option. I begged the doctors to give me a chance to keep it,” she says.

She was given two weeks to exercise her leg back to health, “If I wasn’t sleeping, I was exercising,” she says.

“I had crutches and I’d hop on my right leg, dragging my left leg behind me. All my shoes had worn down. It was a horrendous sight to see.”

But the day before her amputation would take place a miracle happened.

Koschel was rushed to hospital after collapsing at home. It was then doctors found an internal bleed.

“They fixed the bleed and within about three hours the leg pressure had risen at least 20 per cent,” she recalls.

Rehab was the next step, a confronting place for a fit 24-year old. Enter Jim, a 25-year old rugby league player who’d broken his back at a Tough Mudder obstacle course.

“Within a month we were joined at the hip,” Koschel recalls.

“We got up to a little bit of mischief, the nurses caught us in the wrong room. We’d have wheelchair races in the hallway. It was special.”

Together they made plans.

They would have four children. They would live together near the beach in Sydney.

“Being an athlete you get into that mindset of ‘I’ve got to eat, train, sleep’. But Jim showed me a whole world out there existed that I hadn’t seen or thought about,” Koschel says.

That dream fell apart when, the day before he was due to leave rehab, Jim committed suicide.

“It was inexplicable,” Koschel says.

“Not one of us saw it coming.”

But rather than feeling anger towards Jim or collapsing into her grief, Koschel kept going.

“You can live your life with a broken heart. Jim will always hold a piece of my heart — albeit the broken piece — but that’s not to say I can’t love again or I don’t have love to give.”

So the Kindness Factory was born.

After first reaching out to those who helped own journey, she set up a website, kindnessfactory.com in memory of Jim. She started small, buying a stranger petrol one day.

“I was on this high for a week just from doing that. I thought, I want to do more,” Koschel recalls of what launched the movement.

Still, life has continued to throw hurdles Koschel’s way.

Last year she was hit by a four-wheel drive while cycling, breaking her back in four places. Then, six weeks later, Jim’s mother Wendy also took her own life.

Throwing herself back into work has helped but she is still clearly in pain, both from her physical injuries and emotional losses. But Koschel insists she wouldn’t change a thing.

“If you could package up the past four years and say I’m going to give you a fresh start or you’re going to keep what you’ve got, I’d certainly take the life that I have,” she says.

“I’ve got this appreciation for people. Jim shaped the way I think and the way I view the world.”

— Tiffany Dunk

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KYLIE SMITH

Medallist

Supporting mothers in crisis

After suffering post-traumatic stress and postnatal depression following the birth of her youngest son, Kylie Smith founded Embracing Arms, a not-for-profit offering support for women suffering from depression, anxiety and other mental health issues.

Eight women turned up to the Quakers Hill resident’s first support group in a coffee shop and it swiftly evolved from there. Educating sufferers, carers and mental health professionals, Embracing Arms links those with mental illness to services in their local community and abroad.

The organisation also offers support in informal settings, with catch-ups and girls’ nights out.

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DENG ADUT

Medallist

Advocate for adopted community

From child soldier in Sudan to lawyer and community advocate in Australia — Deng Adut’s life reads like a movie script.

At just six years old, Adut was taken from his family’s banana farm in South Sudan and conscripted to the army. Six years later he was smuggled out of the country to Kenya, before arriving in Australia as a refugee in 1998.

Adut has gone from a newly arrived refugee who couldn’t speak a word of English to a lawyer who now advocates for better education, multiculturalism and the people of Blacktown.

He does this in the memory of his late brother John who was killed in 2013 helping other refugees in Sudan.

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JOEL TRIST

Medallist

Risking his own life to save a friend

Joel Trist is the kind of friend you’d want around in times of need. When his mate, Brett Connellan, was attacked by a shark while surfing near Kiama, Trist didn’t hesitate.

Realising his friend was in bad shape and without his board the teen jumped into the water to lay his friend on his own surfboard.

With a trail of blood following them in the water and the shark lurking underneath Trist then made the long paddle back, risking his own life in order to get his friend to safety.

Luckily, Connellan survived the attack. However, since that fateful day there have been three other attacks in that area with similar wounds, and in each case, the victims died.

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AH CHONG FAMILY

Medallist

Fearless in the face of terror

A Sydney family stood firm when faced by a crazed knife-wielding man, armed only with what they could find to hand in their garage.

Attacker and terror accused Ihsas Khan, 22, had allegedly launched himself at the Ah Chongs’ neighbour, Wayne Greenhalgh.

As the 59-year-old, ran, bleeding, towards their car pleading for help, the family — dad Sivei, wife Pearl, son Derek and nephew Allice Ah Fa — grabbed fence palings and rocks to stand up to Khan, who is said to have wielded a large bloodied machete.

Greenhalgh’s daughter, Lisa Ballard, says she is forever grateful to the Ah Chongs for saving her father’s life.

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TONY HOGG, MATTHEW GRAY, ANDREW PARKER, AND NICK LEACH

Medallists

Risking lives in name of duty

Well s**t, that wasn’t too flash.”

These words flew through Sergeant Tony Hogg’s head as yet another massive wave smashed into his water police vessel, in the middle of a ferocious and unrelenting storm at the tail end of a 26-hour shift.

His hands gripped the wheel as the 23-tonne launcher was tossed through the air, almost capsizing. Seawater flooded the cabin, drenching the state-of-the-art electrical equipment.

“I was concerned it would all short out and our position would be jeopardised,” Hogg says.

Last January 6, he endured what was the longest day of his 30-year policing career and the worst sea conditions he’s ever seen.

The Port Stephens Police Marine Area Command responded to five mayday calls in that marathon shift, to rescue several sailors in trouble.

Sadly, one man perished after being swept overboard. And the officers themselves — Hogg, 51, and senior constables Matthew Gray, 42, Andrew Parker, 38, and Nick Leach, 36 — were also in grave danger numerous times.

“Trying to hold a course was impossible,” Hogg recalls.

“We were being constantly blown off course, heading south one minute and then pulled up on to a wave and dumped sideways, then suddenly facing north. I just kept my eye on the lighthouse in the distance and held on.”

When a phone call summoned him to work at 1.30am, Hogg had no idea what awaited him and his crew.

Rushing to the marina where Gray and Leach met him, they set off to help a man stuck up the mast of a yacht.

“Another yacht sailing by assisted us to bring the fellow down,” Hogg says.

“They continued on their way and we headed back to Port Stephens.

“As we were coming in, you could see a storm front approaching from the south. It looked like it was going to be pretty nasty. We all said that if it hit in a big way, we’d be busy.”

Less than an hour later came the first mayday from a boat in serious trouble.

“The yacht’s sail had blown out and they couldn’t make their way, the sea had whipped up and they were drifting towards rocks. We managed to find them and secure a tow line.”

Almost back at shore, another mayday came in for a man overboard.

A volunteer vessel took their tow, with Leach leaping on to assist, and Hogg and Gray raced towards the emergency and that’s when it all went pear-shaped.

They searched in vain until dark, hopes fading rapidly. By that time wind gusts were at 70 to 80 knots and seas grew to monstrous sizes.

“Unfortunately a man did perish. It’s a shame we couldn’t find him alive but we did manage to retrieve his body for the family.” Loss is part of the job

“A yacht which volunteered to join the search got into some strife. The weather worsened and they drifted towards the beach,” Hogg says.

“They were only 500 metres away but we had no visibility.

“Eventually we got up next to them and attached a line to tow them back to Port Stephens. We snapped the line six or seven times and it took 45 minutes to an hour to reattach each time.”

That, coupled with the conditions, meant what would normally be a 40-minute journey took a gruelling 17 hours — slower than walking pace.

And the passage into Port Stephens was so dangerously choppy the police vessel almost capsized.

“You know you’re in big trouble when the boat you’re towing overtakes you,” Hogg says.

“It had surfed down a wave and was dragging us with it. In that moment I do recall thinking, ‘That’s not good.’”

Just as they got the stricken boat to safety the final mayday came in. A volunteer boat assisting a yacht in trouble at sea — coincidently, the first one Hogg encountered that day — was itself struggling.

“The volunteer boat had been swamped by massive waves. (Parker and Leach) took over and went out to rescue them,” Hogg says.

“There was a point where I thought we were in a bit of strife, definitely. Professionalism kicked in and we were lucky enough to rescue some people from pretty ordinary weather and get them back unscathed.

“Unfortunately a man did perish,” Hogg recalls with regret.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t find him alive. We did manage to retrieve the body for the family but I do feel sad for the fellow. I try not to dwell on it because at the end of the day it’s what we’re trained to do.

“When we do rescue people and get them back safe and sound on dry land there’s a bit of a warm feeling, so it’s two sides of the same coin.”

He’s been part of the water police for 27 years now and grew up on the ocean, born and raised in Newcastle and spending holidays as a child at the family’s unit in Nelson Bay.

“I actually remember sitting on the beach once when I was a boy and seeing a police boat go by and thinking, gee that’d be a pretty cool job. Low and behold, I’m the officer in charge of the place. I’ve been pretty lucky.”

— Shannon Molloy

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TRAVIS BOLAND

Medallist

Risked life to save strangers

Running towards the battered wreckage of the four-wheel drive, the fuel and oil-soaked ground around it already well alight, Travis Boland hesitated for a split second. Was the driver dead? Then Boland heard the faint whimper of a child from the back seat.

As the fire spread, Boland reached in and grabbed the nine-year-old boy and dragged him through the window. However the driver was in shock and confused, he recalls.

“I was yelling at him: ‘You’ve got to get out, mate! Let’s go, it’s going to go up — we’ve got to move!’”

But the man was badly injured and disoriented. The front doors were completely smashed in and jammed, so Boland climbed through the broken window of the crushed cabin.

Wedging his arm under the man’s shoulder, he dragged him over the gear stick and outside.

“The inside of the car caught alight and there were all these popping noises — the wheels, some cans of spray paint, I think. I remember someone screaming for us to get away.”

Still carrying the man, Boland got about 15 metres from the crash site when he heard “a huge whoosh”.

“It was like someone lighting a bonfire or turning on a gas stove. It was so quick,” he says.

A minute or two earlier and the men would’ve still been inside the wreckage when it completely engulfed in flames.

Boland’s bravery no doubt saved the man and his child. But the humble hero from Parkes is reluctant to take the glory. He’s found the attention since — which includes this Pride of Australia award — a little awkward.

“I just did what anyone else would’ve done,” he insists.

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LILLY LYONS

Medallists

Crusading for justice

Justice is something Lilly Lyons, a survivor of incest and sexual assault, says she wishes she’d received.

After an intensely devastating three year trial, Lyons not only endured the prodding of doctors and mental health professionals but saw her assailant walk free. At this news, many would crumble. But Lyons, now 14, vowed to use her experience to help others.

Since starting high school, Lyons has become a junior member of parliament — helping pass a bill to provide more counsellors in schools, joined the NSW Youth Advisory Council, started her own radio show Living Life With Lilly 89.3 2GLF, runs a Facebook support group, is a Save the Children Australia ambassador and mentors for Youth Off The Streets and its Aftercare program.

“I want to give other people justice,” she says of her passion for advocating for young people suffering from issues including sexual assault, drug and alcohol abuse and homelessness.

“A lot of cases go unheard. And maybe me telling my story can help that one person tell theirs.”

Recalling the terror of going through the court system without someone she felt understood her story, Lyons now volunteers as a court support for young victims.

Lyons knows speaking about her survival story can make others feel uncomfortable. But she vows it won’t stop her from sharing her harsh reality.

“I know a lot of people didn’t like to hear my story because it either made them upset or they didn’t believe those type of things happened,” she says.

“But if you get it more out there, it’s a stronger chance more young people can have their voice as well.”

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