Inspirational Stories

Enduring Thanks for Priceless Gifts

Have you ever thought how you would hold out a hand for help as your worst fears became realities? Most of us don't consider this until confronted with it.

In the early hours of a day one August, my wife and I spent eight hours able only to talk by hand and glance. Although we could see each other, there was a sense of peace after the previous months had held so many hopes, so many remissions. Her strength was failing beyond her reserves, and her treatment had been stopped. By now it was late afternoon and we had been told that a Hospice bed was free for her, and so the ambulance arrived to carry us to the North Shore Hospice.

Once at the Hospice, both ambulance team and Hospice staff made the process of her admission so smooth as to be a perfectly normal event. It was almost surreal. Immediately there were the quiet assurances, comforting concern and closely attentive staff, good humour that we, as a family, came to recognise as the norm, during our coming days of waiting at my wife's bedside.

I had not realised that I could have called for help, earlier, from the Hospice Out-Patient care.

The intense activity of 'going-it-alone' had left us tired and near exhaustion. The hope that our efforts would be enough to keep my wife comfortable, were far short of her fast-failing health.

The relief we felt as we left her in care for the first night, enabled us all to recover. For my wife the assurance of expert help being close by was a very calming thing.

The next day we were able to greet each other and chat again. That one night respite care had given her so much. The wonderful care she received around the clock helped assure all the family that she was in the best possible situation as her condition changed rapidly.

There were other families at Hospice suffering the same emotional stress as us. Despite this everything seemed to operate like a well-oiled machine.

In the background the quiet business of catering to all, the daily round of bed-making and patient-tending, continued firmly and unobtrusively.

To be able to share with other people who understand what we were going through enabled us to support each other. The conversations, not surprisingly, were often quickly personalised and one was sad to part from the warm humanity of this haven at the day's end. While watching the staff at Hospice we became aware of the diverse range of specialisations amongst the staff. While the nurses were clearly skilled at being a nurse, they were experts at personalised attention to the patient's comfort and sense of peace and assurance; the interest in patient's family, support and welcomed offers to help, all received graciously and with good humour, in spite, sometimes, of urgent pre-occupations.

The staff's respect for the personal beliefs, faith and concerns expressed by patients and relatives, was so evident, there was an immediate sense of trust towards all. As a family, we quickly felt completely comfortable with all who attended my wife and at her parting we were accorded compassion and help of genuine and sincere quality.

In the following weeks, I gratefully accepted the offer to attend grief counselling which helped me to accept the transition to 'solo' status.

During all the sadness and trials of this time, for myself and family, our experiences allowed us to become aware of ourselves again and to see the good efforts of others, given to our well being and given enduring thanks to all for these priceless gifts.

John Wilson