Inspirational Stories

The Difference the Hospice Makes

There is an enduring myth that hospice is a place you go to die and that is all it has to offer. In my experience nothing could be further from the truth. I have lost both my parents to cancer and their differing experiences demonstrate the important, life-affirming work the hospice does.

When my father was terminally ill he refused to have anything to do with the hospice until the very last. He had an eight year battle with lymphatic cancer. In the year preceding his death he was in constant pain and he had little energy. Life at this stage was a repetition of trips to the hospital - where they tried to control his symptoms with limited success - and days of lying in bed between chronic bouts of diarrhea and vomiting.

After months of spending virtually every waking moment caring for Dad in this state, my mother finally broke down. An incredibly strong woman, nonetheless Mum could no longer cope with caring for him under these circumstances. The constant stress had brought her to the brink of collapse. She was emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted. Dad agreed to go into the Hospice. The next day he died.

Mum discovered she had breast cancer a couple of years after my Dad's death. She had a lumpectomy and radiation treatment and was fit and well for five years. Then she began complaining of severe back pain. Tests were done and we received the devastating news that the cancer was back. It had spread to her spine, liver and lungs. There was no treatment that could save her.

After crying non-stop for three days Mum decided to get on with the process of living. Her doctor suggested she get in touch with her local hospice and she immediately embraced the idea. She had radiation treatment at the hospital to reduce the size of the tumour on her spine and then she checked herself into the Hospice.

At this point we feared she would die sooner rather than later. She had now lost considerable weight and was plagued by diarrhea and vomiting as her body struggled to cope with the cocktail of drugs the hospital had prescribed for her. It seemed for each drug there were another three to combat the side-effects and we watched helplessly as she deteriorated before our eyes.

The Hospice doctors quickly identified the cause of my mother's problems. Mum wasn't able to take the drugs orally. They set up a syringe-driver, changed some of the medication and carefully monitored her condition until the balance of drugs was right. Within a week Mum no longer looked like she was at death's door. Still tired and weak, she now managed small meals without any distress.

After ten days she was ready to go home. For the next two months the hospice organised a nurse to look after her for two days a week so I could have a break from caring for her. Hospice nurses popped in regularly to check on her. If she had wanted, she could have also had volunteers come in to do her housework, gardening or just to chat and keep her company.

Each day Mum was a little better and the hospice staff gradually weaned her body off the medication until she was taking only one anti-cancer drug. She had many good months after this where she was well and happy and busy. Many a time I would go to her place to find her mowing her lawns or gardening with a contented smile on her tanned face. She had many outings, visiting people, shopping and just all the normal things that people do each day without thinking twice. It was hard sometimes to remember that she had a terminal illness.

Thanks to the Hospice she had her haircut regularly at no cost. She enjoyed outings with others in the same situation as her. She used to say how nice it was to be around people who understood' what she was going through. She especially enjoyed the lavish Christmas dinner the Hospice organised at an upmarket inner-city hotel.

Mum enjoyed life to the full during these final months. When the end came it was relatively fast. One day she was planning another trip away and the next day she couldn't walk. We re-admitted her to the Hospice. Five days later she died. She was a woman with a strong faith in God and she told me she had accepted the reality of her death long ago. The Hospice staff worked night and day to alleviate any pain. Her family was there at her side. Her death was one of quiet dignity and peace.

Afterwards the whole family had access to grief counselling. While my sister and I didn't take up this offer, my two young nieces attended a children's workshop where they made collages about their Nana. They were able to talk about their feelings to a trained professional who helped guide them through the grieving process.

While the Hospice could not stop the inevitability of my mum's death, the contrast of her experience to my dad's was startling. The Hospice is not just a place to go to die. The Hospice is an organisation that believes that death is a natural part of life and a process to be journeyed through. They make a real and measurable difference to those who face living with a terminal illness. The acknowledged experts in symptom and pain control, the hospice provides a plethora of support and practical services with the aim of improving the quality of life for the patient and their families.

On behalf of my mother, I wish to thank the hospice for their help. I don't know what we would have done without them.