As we get ready to launch the Research & Hope website, I am faced with a moral dilemma that would make any budding philosopher proud. Do I hold fast to my ethical principles, or earn enough money to speed up the research and help more people?

At the moment, Research & Hope has the potential to help numerous stroke survivors, but this is not sufficient. There are so many people that we could help: those suffering from Parkinson’s disease, acquired brain injury, cancer, and a vast array of other conditions. The longer it takes us to generate these sections of the website, the longer people suffer needlessly. As soon as the website starts to make money, I intend to employ researchers. Using the systems I have designed, it would take around four months for two researchers working full-time to generate discussion pages on 20-25 potential treatments for a chronic disease such as Alzheimer’s.

The main source of funding for the website will come from sponsorship. The idea is simple: I will find one sponsor for each potential treatment. But who should I approach? For example, it would be relatively easy to get a stem cell clinic to sponsor the page on stem cells, and I could follow this model until I had made a tidy sum, but I believe that this would compromise the integrity of the website. Like every good philosopher, I want to show both the arguments for and the arguments against each course of action. I can’t imagine this type of sponsor gleefully handing over money while I explain all the potential problems with their treatment. In addition, the entire website could potentially be perceived as a series of advertorials promoting a collection of vested interests.

According to the great philosopher Immanuel Kant, when you are faced with a moral conflict, you should follow his fundamental rule (Categorical Imperative). The gist of his rule is this: imagine that your actions become the rule that everyone will follow. As I reflected on that, I thought, “No, this is not the way I would like every future website to be organised.” I had to come up with another solution.

The second option came from my philosophically-minded web designer, Paul McDonnell. His idea fitted more neatly with one of my favourite philosophers John Stuart Mill’s idea of ‘the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people’. His proposal was this: I should look for sponsors that are one step removed from the therapy they are going to sponsor. For example, Music Therapy could be sponsored by a large chain of music shops. This would allow me to hold onto my ethical principles, while still gaining some sponsors. Fantastic!

The only problem is this: Paul’s idea is great in theory, and when Research & Hope is widely known, I’m sure it will be the perfect solution. However, at the moment, I am finding it very difficult to get past the switchboard of a major music outlet, or a supermarket chain, or a large book retailer.

As I said in my very first blog, I believe that there is an answer to every problem, even though it is not always easy to find. At the moment, I stand with Socrates: I am very aware that I know nothing!

If anyone out there can advise me on how to reach the sponsors I need to keep the research flowing, please contact me. If you know a potential sponsor or a philanthropist, please direct him or her to this blog, or to the website, which will be at www.researchandhope.com in a week or two.

I have always been a perfectionist. For many years, it was a constant struggle to liberate anything, from my writings to my physical form.

However, years of karate have taught me that perfection is infinitely beyond my grasp.

After more than eight years of practicing karate at least four times a week, I was sitting with the senior students as they told their epic tales of battles fought, injuries sustained and the weird and wonderful characters that had graced our dojo (training hall).

Then they told a story that related to me. “You,” it began, “were the worst beginner we have ever had…” While striving for perfection in every movement I had revealed that I had no natural coordination, no fitness, no ability to remember the moves, and a natural gift for turning the wrong way at every opportunity. This news came as I was preparing to take my black belt exam.

While working towards my black belt, I had started to train at least twice a day, six days a week. I maintained this for more than five years in an ever-present bid to attain that elusive perfection of movement. Now, after 22 years of karate training, I understand this: what I have learned about perseverance, self-acceptance and facing my fears is so much more valuable than attaining the perfect punch.

As I nursed bruises and broken bones, I would read and re-read Miyamaoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings:

‘…determine that today you will overcome yourself of the day before, tomorrow you will win over those of lesser skill, and later you will win over those of greater skill.’

Now I am about to launch the Research & Hope website. I want to share every piece of information about stroke recovery; I want to read and evaluate every clinical trial; I want to speak to every researcher around the world; I want to…

I need to remember that I can strive for perfection but I have to accept my limitations.

The website I launch will be the first step on a journey. I cannot promise that I have read every paper ever published on every treatment that I discuss. I cannot guarantee that each treatment will work for each stroke survivor. What I can do is promise that I have worked tirelessly to bring together as much useful information as I can for stroke survivors and their families. I can also promise that I will do my utmost to keep the research up-to-date and that I will produce a similar body of work on Parkinson’s disease, Alzheimer’s disease and acquired brain injury just as soon as I can.

What I discovered through my practice of karate has been confirmed in my search for new treatments to heal Steve. There is a desire to get it right first time, to find the perfect cure. When a treatment works we feel elated and then disappointed that it did not achieve more. Some treatments have not worked for him at all and there is always the temptation to give in to despair. It is at those times that I remember what I have learned from practising karate, a lesson neatly summarised by Samuel Beckett every time I look up from my computer and see the postcard pinned in front of me. It reads: ‘No matter. Try again failing. Fail better.’