Christine’s story

Christine’s older sister, Kath, died on our In-Patient Unit in November 2013. Here, Christine tells us why she continues to support the Hospice, and has returned to spend some time here most years since:

‘Kath and I were both born at home in North Cheam. I was born a month early on Kath’s sixth birthday and from then on, we shared every birthday together, including her last one at the Royal Marsden. We were very, very close.’

Once the sisters were grown-up and working, they became closer than ever. They would ring one another almost every day and meet every Tuesday for a day of lunching and shopping; as Christine recalls, ‘all we did was laugh.’

KathChristine says Kath (pictured) was extremely clever and studied hard, before working as a financial investment manager in London. Kath and two colleagues went on to establish their own business, Queen Anne’s Gate Asset Management, which they built successfully before the company was bought out. After continuing to work there for several years, Kath left at the age of 50 to enjoy an early retirement with her husband, Ray (pictured below with Kath).                                        

Kath had married Ray in 1974 but became seriously unwell the following year, which began with pneumonia and led to peritonitis. Kath recovered eventually but due to her illness she was unable to conceive children. Instead, she focused on building a successful career; she and Ray enjoyed many long-haul holidays and they loved to entertain their wide circle of friends at home in Little Bookham.                                                  

Years later, the sisters’ parents both experienced ill health and their mum sadly died. Soon afterwards, their dad became seriously ill and Christine gave up her bookkeeping work to care for him at home until he died in August 2011. It was a conversation with the visiting district nurse that sparked the idea for Christine to consider a career as a carer, which she went on to pursue. Christine credits the district nurse as giving her the confidence to begin what she now considers to be ‘the best job ever. You’re actually making a difference to someone’s life, that’s what it’s all about.’

At the start of 2012, Kath began to experience stomach pains. Various tests arranged by her GP and hospitals failed to find anything, but the pains persisted and in December 2012 an ECRP test revealed a diagnosis of terminal gall bladder cancer.

KathChemotherapy started in January 2013 and Christine recalls, ‘she never complained, she was a complete trooper and went through it smiling.’ In September 2013, Kath was given the news that the tumour was shrinking and Ray booked them a holiday in Cyprus to celebrate.

In October 2013, Christine visited Kath, who was back in bed feeling unwell. Ray took her to the Royal Marsden and Kath experienced a seizure whilst there. A scan revealed the devastating news that Kath had numerous brain tumours. It was at this time she chose not to continue any treatment, knowing that her diagnosis was terminal and, at that stage, Christine felt ‘she’d had enough’. Christine remembers a conversation in the hospital that illustrated her sister’s selfless character: ‘she felt it wasn’t how it should’ve been, that she was supposed to be the one who looked after Ray and me.’

Hospice and moatAfter two weeks, Kath was given the choice of returning home with medication to control her pain and seizures, or to enter her local Hospice, Princess Alice. Kath told Christine and Ray she didn’t want to go home because she felt it would be too much for Ray. Despite Christine’s offers to help, Kath was determined to go into hospice care: ‘I didn’t want her to and I didn’t like the thought of it. But when I walked into Princess Alice Hospice the morning after she was admitted, there was something so peaceful and calming about this place and she was in a beautiful room overlooking water.’

Christine thinks Kath was happy being at Princess Alice Hospice, given the circumstances, and she was able to visit her sister every day: ‘I felt OK about leaving her, she was safe here, she was in good hands. I really think she was happy, she seemed settled and content. I don’t think I would’ve coped if she was at home and, because she was in the Hospice, I could still be her sister and not her carer, which means I was able to remember happy times at her house afterwards, too.’

Ray was with Kath when she died at Princess Alice Hospice in the early hours on 17 November 2013. Christine and her partner, Kevin, arrived a few minutes later and they all stayed late after a nurse offered for them to stay as long as they wanted. Christine remembers the last few days of Kath’s life as peaceful: ‘I don’t think she was in any pain at the end and I can still remember her smiling.’ Christine looks back now and remembers how ‘all the treatment and care Kath was given by the doctors, nurses and ward support staff was excellent and she was always treated with the utmost dignity and compassion. Even down to remembering that she loved Jammie Dodger biscuits, before she was too ill to enjoy them.’

With Christmas approaching the following month, Christine was keen to spend the day in a way that would allow Ray, Kevin and her to remember Kath, who she’d spent every Christmas with since she was born. They chose to spend the day at Princess Alice Hospice and enjoyed a traditional festive lunch in the dining hall. Christine remembers the day as ‘a bit of a blur, but it was really nice, the best thing we could’ve done, despite it being so emotional. Somehow, we felt Kath was with us because it was the last place she was with us. It comforted me to be here. It’s hard to put it in words, but it was so serene, it was out of this world.’

The following year, Christine and Kevin returned to the Hospice for a coffee. They spent time walking in the gardens and Christine felt a calmness wash over her: ‘I’d sent a paper dove decoration with a message on to be put on the tree for the Light up a Life service and I went to see where it was on the tree. It was beautiful and Kevin said the same afterwards, it was just so peaceful.’

Christine returns regularly because she feels the Hospice gave her more time to be with Kath than if she’d been in a hospital: ‘everyone is so welcoming, the receptionists, everyone. The staff were listening, they were asking us questions, they really care.’

Christine feels strongly that ‘hospices aren’t scary places. Kevin and I have both said that if we get to that stage we’d want to be here. They take time for you. It’s just nice to know you can visit here 24/7 and spend as much time as you like. I’d say to anyone, ‘don’t be scared, it’s just a beautiful place to be.’

Christine is adjusting to life without her sister to spend time with: ‘Kath was 63 when she died, she was always my older sister and now I’m older than her. I still think about her all the time, she was so kind and everybody loved her.’ Christine is planning to spend more time at the Hospice this year, remembering it always as a place of ‘tranquillity, warmth and peace.’

Find out how you could help us be there for more local people like Christine…

Christina’s story

‘It was the emotional and psychological aspect that we found most helpful, to know we had their backing, the reassurance of knowing they were there.’

Christina and Graham Graham retired as Head of Science at Holland Park School in 1999, which allowed him to focus more time on his passions for gardens and gardening; shortly after retiring, Graham took on an allotment and enjoyed working on it until the end of 2022, when he no longer had the strength and stamina for it. Graham’s wife, Christina, feels the allotment ‘sustained him during the course of his illness and was of enormous value during the Covid lockdowns. It helped him mentally and emotionally to do the physical work and to take pleasure in his achievements in growing fruit and vegetables, to be outdoors in pleasant and restful surroundings.’ Alongside these hobbies, Graham volunteered as a gardener at Hampton Court Palace and for Princess Alice Hospice, where he gave his time as a driver and as a shop volunteer in Molesey.

Back in November 2019, Graham was operated on at St George’s Hospital for a cancerous tumour, which was followed by radiotherapy in January 2020: ‘at that point, we were hoping it would be cured. However, it returned in July 2020 and he was advised it was not curable, but treatable and the prognosis was 3 – 6 months,’ recalls Christina. It was then that Graham decided to contact Princess Alice Hospice, via a GP referral, to say he may need their help and support in the time ahead. Christina recalls how ‘Graham was determined to beat the prognosis and was pleased to continue with an active life through 2021 and 2022, with the help from the Hospice.’ Looking back, Graham’s wife, Christina, says of the Hospice: ‘it was the emotional and psychological aspect of that which we found most helpful, to know we had their backing, the reassurance of knowing they were there.’ Graham died at home in June 2023.

Christina and GrahamIt was Teleri from Princess Alice Hospice who got in touch with Graham after receiving his GP’s referral request. Lockdown restrictions prevented her from visiting him in person, but Christina recalls that ‘we met by Zoom calls and telephone calls, Teleri would call to see how we were getting on.’ Christina feels that Teleri gave Graham and her ‘real hope’ and was able to identify ways in which the couple could continue to enjoy life together and make precious memories: she helped them apply for their carers’ allowance and their Blue Badge. Christina hadn’t realised they were eligible for one and found it ‘extraordinarily helpful’ when they received it in September 2020. Teleri continued to stay in touch during this difficult time and you can read more in Teleri’s blog about how she supported patients remotely.

When the cancer spread to Graham’s throat, he was unable to swallow and became severely parched. Teleri’s colleague, Sandra, visited the couple at home and undertook an assessment of what they would need; she arranged for Graham’s GP to discuss options with him, which led to him being admitted to Kingston Hospital to be drip fed; Sandra went to the hospital to organise a bed which would allow Graham to return home.

Sandra was also able to talk about Graham’s end of life wishes which, Christina recalls, ‘made us focus on that and concentrated our minds on where he wanted to die. He wanted to die at home, with help, but if he hadn’t been able to, he would’ve wanted to have died at the Hospice, not in a hospital.’ Christina feels having the opportunity to have this conversation was ‘reassuring for me and for him. It helped us feel there was help available if we did need it, we needn’t fear that.’

Graham and Christina met Teleri in person for the first time in 2022, when she chatted to them about the other services available at Princess Alice Hospice.

Christina remains extremely grateful for the precious times Graham and she shared together after his diagnosis. The Blue Badge allowed them to visit Wisley Gardens on their return journeys from Guildford Hospital: ‘we would park easily, stroll round and have a cup of tea.’ The couple also appreciated being able to park easily in Royal Bushy Park and enjoy walks together; Christina says, ‘should anything have happened, we would have had someone to call on, to liaise with.’ Despite being busy with hospital appointments, the Blue Badge gave them a sense of freedom, allowing them to hire cottages for holidays in the New Forest and make visits to York and Pickering.

After Graham died, Christina was invited to take up bereavement support with Princess Alice Hospice, which she has found ‘supportive, it’s helpful to meet other people in the same position, a shared experience of grief.’

Chris and Sue’s story 

‘It’s a long day for a carer’ 

Chris and Sue Two years ago, Sue began losing concentration, suffering mood swings and struggling with severe tiredness. As a busy care home manager with a nursing background, these changes were completely out of character for her, as were two small car accidents she went on to cause, followed by vocal tics that developed soon afterwards. Sadly, Sue’s husband, Chris, knew what the cause of these changes was likely to be.  

Sue and Chris are no strangers to Huntington’s disease, which the NHS defines as ‘a condition that stops part of the brain working properly over time. It’s passed on (inherited) from a person’s parents.’ Sue’s mum, her elder sister and her brother have all died from the condition and when Chris realised what was happening to his wife, he wondered, ‘how do you tell your loved one that you think she’s got Huntington’s disease?’ 

Symptoms can differ, but Sue’s sister, Angela, suffered such violent limb spasms that she lifted a large marble table with one leg that had taken eight people to lift into her kitchen years earlier.  

With a 50/50 chance of Sue inheriting the gene too, Sue and Chris made the difficult decision in their early 20s not to have children. Instead, they focused on their careers and Sue threw herself into her nursing career, with a particular interest in Dementia care: ‘in hindsight, I knew I had it, through my work in that area.’

Chris and SueSue and Chris visited their GP in Fetcham, who was keen to send Sue to St Peter’s Hospital, but Angela had been under the care of a Huntington’s specialist at University College London Hospital and it was agreed that Sue would visit her, too, where she underwent a series of blood and cognitive tests before returning home to await the results; after a few days, she and Chris were invited back and the doctor broke the diagnosis to them. As Chris remembers: ‘When you sit down you know anyway, you’re prepared and you’re not.’ 

Sue decided to step down from her job immediately and chose to hand in her driving license, too. Seeing her family members’ deterioration, a slow progression of symptoms over 10-15 years, brought home the realisation that she would be following a similar path ahead.  

As a retired industrial engineer – ‘I used to put date codes on anything’ – Chris spent the last five years of his career teaching the technology to younger colleagues. Once Sue’s diagnosis was confirmed, Chris explains: ‘I couldn’t leave her, she’s not able to boil kettles or prepare food,’ and he has been his wife’s devoted carer ever since. 

Sue struggled to cope with the diagnosis initially and was concerned she was having a nervous breakdown. An 8-week programme provided by mental health charity, Mind, taught her powerful tools that included Mindfulness, a technique that Sue still uses today: ‘the sessions really helped me come to terms with it.’ 

Soon afterwards, Sue’s GP suggested it would be beneficial for the couple to contact Princess Alice Hospice, to register for Wellbeing Services. Chris made the initial contact and they were invited to the Wellbeing Centre, where they undertook an 8-week course, which involved an assessment of Sue’s needs. Chris says, ‘the advice they gave was absolutely brilliant. I did know a lot already, I’d sorted out Wills and I’ve spent hours studying Huntington’s disease and seeing it at first hand in the family.’ Princess Alice Hospice nurses were so impressed with Chris’s knowledge of the condition that they asked him to give a lecture to colleagues on the In-Patient Unit, which he was glad to do. After Sue’s recent 2-week stay in a care home offering respite care, Chris has also offered to go in to teach staff about Huntington’s disease, in the hope of spreading knowledge and understanding of the particular care needed by people with the condition. 

Chris and SueSue and Chris enjoy visiting the Wellbeing Centre at the Hospice on Wednesdays each week. They look forward to chatting to other couples there, who they feel comfortable sharing their experiences with; Chris says: ‘We don’t see our friends much now and it’s awkward for us to go anywhere – Sue needs to be in her wheelchair, and if we go out to eat people look at us strangely because we make a mess – it’s true, it is what it is – and we can’t go further than a two-hour trip because Sue needs to get to a loo. A lot of places don’t have wheelchair access, or there are stairs, and it just becomes too difficult.’ So, meeting people at the Wellbeing Centre who are in situations they can recognise provides vital comfort and support. As Chris says, ‘you make new friends. It’s a break for Sue, the more I can keep her speech mobile the better it is.’ 

Eighteen months ago, Chris and Sue went away on a holiday with family, where Chris was unfortunately pulled over by Sue as she stumbled, resulting in painful bruising. A Complementary Therapy Coordinator and Volunteers at the Wellbeing Centre were able to offer Chris aromatherapy and acupuncture sessions, which he found extremely helpful in his recovery. 

Sue’s pension from her nursing days means that the couple are not eligible for care grants. They have a carer who visits daily at 10am to get Sue up, showered, provide personal care and dress her for the day, before she is moved into the lounge. Chris was providing this care for Sue until back problems meant he was no longer able to, so they now pay for the daily visits. Each week, an additional carer comes to sit with Sue for three hours, to give Chris a break: ‘I tend to rest, once Sue is settled I go back to the bedroom and lie down on the bed. It’s a long day for a carer.’ Chris explains that if a person pays for carers via Social Services they are entitled to six weeks of respite a year. If Sue returns to respite towards the end of the year, Chris plans to spend time tending to his 300ft garden. Chris does all the washing, drying, cooking – he enjoys trying out international recipes – and says simply: ‘I’m OK, I’m fine. I’ve got a bad back, it’s difficult day to day but I’m fine. We have a cleaner who comes in once a fortnight and she’s an absolute whizz.’ 

Several years ago, Sue and Chris purchased a touring caravan, which they used to love taking to the Jurassic Coast; their retirement plan had been to spend winters in Spain, but as Chris says, ‘it was never to be, as they say.’ Instead, the couple enjoy their visits to the Wellbeing Centre and Sue says: ‘I don’t know what I’d do without it. Our friend’s husband died here three weeks ago and she has nothing but praise for Princess Alice. She’s visiting us tomorrow, we knew them for 38 years.’ Chris describes the friendships they’ve made at the Hospice as ‘sad friendships, because you know that the people you meet here have a life-limiting condition. But it’s a unique friendship and the staff are so kind and caring, they take time to chat with you. If you’re sat down, they’ll come over and talk to you, they’re good at drawing you out. There are new people who come to the group and everyone talks to them, it’s a great place.’ 

Chris has planned ahead for when Sue’s condition deteriorates and they both know they would like her to spend her final days at the Hospice: ‘when the time comes, we want to be here. We don’t know how long we’ve got, you don’t know, but we want to be here.’ Sue notices how everybody smiles at Princess Alice, ‘I’ve not met anyone grumpy here’ and Chris believes ‘they’re all brilliant, everybody has a smile on their face. It’s everything here, basically. It’s nice that Sue has an umbrella over her at the Hospice.’ 

James’s story

‘Tim told me he’d been diagnosed with oesophageal cancer in November 2021. He hadn’t told me he’d been going for tests before that because he didn’t want to worry me. At that time, he was given six months to live. I just didn’t believe it; I was absolutely devastated.’ Tim died under the care of Princess Alice Hospice on 15 May 2022, aged 67.

James (left) and Tim (right) met at a mutual friend’s party in Guildford back in the 1980s and continued to bump into one another at various occasions over the years, before becoming an established, happy couple for 15 years. They lived a full life and shared a close social circle, enjoying plenty of travel and shared cultural interests. Years later, they went on to marry, after Tim proposed in front of a room full of friends at James’s 60th Birthday party. Just over a year since Tim died, James says, ‘he was my best friend, my world, my everything. Through Tim dying, a part of me has died, too, and I have a very different view of the world now. His death still doesn’t compute.’

James feels fortunate he was able to support Tim through the numerous trips and consultations to the Royal County Hospital in Guildford and describes himself as his husband’s ‘advocate’ during the last month of Tim’s life spent in various hospital wards: ‘my life revolved around talking to doctors, taking food to him, managing friends who wanted to visit when Tim just wasn’t up to seeing them.’

Shortly after his diagnosis, and as an extremely well-regarded Surrey artist, Tim decided to exhibit a final set of his works at Shere Gallery. At this stage, he was feeling relatively well and had been given hope he may have slightly longer to live than first diagnosed. They spent happy times planning short holidays, days out and other ways to enjoy their precious time together, though these were limited due to ongoing chemotherapy treatment. On the exhibition preview night in March, Tim sold over 80% of his works – he was elated despite feeling unwell. The remaining exhibition was a blur of visits to A&E, with James manning the exhibition during the days before visiting Tim in hospital each evening. Numerous tests uncovered nothing while Tim stayed on the cancer ward; in fact, he appeared to be getting slightly better, until one evening he gave James the devastating news that a secondary test had found that cancer had spread aggressively to his liver. The diagnosis was confirmed soon afterwards by a second opinion at the Royal Marsden. James recalls: ‘I really thought we’d turned a corner, that there might be an extra new drug that would help him. We just couldn’t believe it when we were told that there was nothing more that could be done for Tim’.

Back home, the couple decided to plan to visit their house in France over the Easter weekend – Tim was initially reluctant because of pending chemotherapy appointments, but James was keen for them to go and for Tim to get to see his beloved village where he had spent many hours painting landscapes of the area over many years. While there, Tim’s replacement knee completely seized up one night and a wheelchair was needed to get him back onto the flight home, where he was re-admitted to Royal County Hospital the following morning. An infection in his knee was causing Tim immense pain and required an operation to clean it; as James remembers, ‘I’d flown back to France to close the house up properly and when I got back, he was on a different ward, so unwell and in so much pain after a second, much more serious operation had taken place to clean his knee more thoroughly.’ As Tim’s overall condition worsened and the infection spread through his body, James remembers thinking that he just wanted to get Tim outside, to enjoy some fresh air and see some nature. The focus at this stage was off cancer and on Tim’s knee pain, and James feels now he hadn’t realised the seriousness of Tim’s terminal condition. Despite his large following of Art fans, Tim was a relatively private man and had decided not to share much detail about his illness with friends. As his condition worsened, James’s life revolved around morning visits to the hospital, driving home briefly, then returning to stay with Tim in the evenings and later, to stay overnight in Tim’s room. Eventually Tim was moved back onto the Onslow ward.

As the cancer treatment continued, James feels it would have been helpful for them to have discussed the possibility of Tim dying, which they hadn’t really talked about; James now feels this was ‘a big problem. One of the worst things is that we were never realistic about his death. I’d like to think I supported him fully through his illness and the reality of his passing is awful. I should’ve talked more to Tim about what life would be like for me afterwards, but you just cannot let it be all about you. Any time we tried to, it would end up with me breaking down and he was finding it hard enough to cope with his own death: one person is dying, the other gets to keep on living. We couldn’t bear it, why talk about death when he wanted to talk about life? He always used to say, ‘I’ve got to get on,’ because he was always so busy.’

James feels he was in denial about the severity of the situation: ‘I’ve got my husband in hospital, I know he’s dying but I can’t admit to it.’ James found it upsetting when he would have to remind hospital staff and doctors that he was Tim’s next of kin, his husband. He took it upon himself to keep them both fully updated with the various assessments from different doctors, ensuring that everything that could be done for Tim was being done.

After a period of further deterioration the couple made the joint decision to stop his antibiotic treatment. Prior to this, James had spoken to hospital nurses who had introduced the idea of palliative care; initially, he had felt sure he wanted to take Tim home to die. However, it was a conversation with their mutual friend, Lynne, that made James think a hospice might be better, to allow him to enjoy their time together and not carry the responsibility of caring for him at home fulltime:

‘I just wanted to look after him. If I had another chance, I’d say, ‘my darling, you’re dying, let’s talk about what you want’, but I could never say that to him because I wanted him to live’.

When James began thinking about palliative and end of life care options he took the decision to let Tim die at Princess Alice Hospice: ‘I looked it up and thought, ‘this is the right place.’ He was told that Tim would need to be fit enough to travel by ambulance from the hospital, so he told his husband: ‘I’ve got you the best place, I’ve got you the best hotel, but you need to be well enough tomorrow morning to make the journey there.’ 

The next day, Tim travelled to Princess Alice Hospice by ambulance and James was there beside him: ‘it was the best feeling ever, I just sat there, and I have never, ever felt so selfless in my whole life. All my thoughts were only for Tim’s care. All I wanted was to get him into a nice comfy bed with a view of trees and nature.’

James remembers a warm reception when they arrived, before Tim was ‘tucked up’ in bed with a drink; he was calm. James stayed in the room with Tim and was able to bring their beloved wire-haired fox terrier, Harry, in for visits: ‘after being in the hospital I was exhausted and on a complete sleep deficit. The bed was more comfortable, and it was quiet, just me and Tim.’

The next day, James was extremely grateful when he was able to organise for Tim to be taken outside into the fresh air – ‘it was very sweet. I wanted to get him outside. My ‘nature boy’, able to finally look onto something green, in nature.’ James recalls the sun was shining and it was a glorious late spring day in May. On the night before Tim died, his bed was lowered to allow James to lie at the same level as his husband. At about 5am, James woke up to the sound of a change in Tim’s breathing. In Tim’s final hour, James talked to him about their time together on their favourite beach in Costa Rica and opened the doors for Tim to hear the early dawn chorus. Inspired by a painting that was hanging in the room, he described the scene on the beach. A little while later, James asked Tim, ‘can you hear me? Darling, I’m going to play you some Chopin.’ Tim died shortly afterwards. James recalls staying in the room, on his own with his husband, lying beside him for a long while.

Since then, James has donated one of Tim’s paintings to the Hospice, in the hope that other families will find them helpful when talking to their loved ones and remembering happier times together. Alongside his work as an event organiser, he has also started to volunteer at the Hospice coffee shop, which he has found comforting: ‘from the outset after Tim died, there’s been something very warm about this place. I was so grateful to get him here to die.’

And what would James say about his experience as a bereaved gay man? He has been surprised by certain friends who have stepped up and really been there for him, yet deeply saddened by a few couples who have not supported him fully through this past year: ‘The best thing someone can say is, ‘how are you doing? How are you doing really?’ You can be who you want to be – tears come and go, nobody can fix this, but invite me round for dinner; please include me in your theatre plans, even if I can’t attend, its nice to be asked. It’s amazing how many people don’t want to be with somebody whose partner has died. It’s made me wonder how I would have been, but it’s amazing how many people don’t want a single person there.’

On Princess Alice Hospice, James says simply: ‘thank God for this place. It was like an oasis in the desert. It allowed me to be with Tim in his final few days and is still a very special refuge.’

As told in August 2023

Maneck, Ruby and Talulla’s story

Santa Fun Run takes place at a poignant time of year for Maneck, Ruby and Talulla, as they remember wife and mum Sharon, who died at Princess Alice Hospice in November 2020. Each year they join the Bushy Park run dressed in Santa and elf suits to raise funds whilst sharing precious memories of Sharon close to the anniversary of her death. 

Santa fun runners

Far left, Ruby, far right Talulla, centre, dad Maneck with some of Sharon’s friends.

Maneck explains: “The thought of setting down a marker for someone you’ve lost is hard but having Santa Fun Run there for us has made a positive impact, at a time that is really quite hard for us.”

Sharon, Ruby and Talulla’s birthdays also fall in December. Ruby remembers how she turned 13 just days before her mum’s funeral and how her little sister, Talulla, turned 11 a few days after. This year, she is having her first birthday party since her mum died and accredits Princess Alice Hospice’s Dovetail bereavement services and Santa Fun Run for making this time of year positive again. 

Talulla gives some words of encouragement to anyone signing up: “It’s such a fun thing to do together and it’s such good vibes. If it’s your first-time taking part it can feel a bit daunting but once you get there, you’ll love it!” 


Everyone has a reason for taking part in Santa Fun Run. Whether you’re coming back for the 10th year in a row in memory of someone or signing up for the first time because you love fun runs! Whatever your reason, it always promises to be a great day out. 

Come and get your festive fun off to the perfect start, while embracing the season of goodwill, too.  Sign up here.

Sarah and Chin’s story

Sarah and Chin on their wedding daySarah and Chin were planning their wedding when they got the devastating news that Chin had a brain tumour. Treatment allowed them nine happy years with their children. But then Chin’s health went rapidly downhill. Princess Alice Hospice was there for the family during Chin’s final days – and have supported them ever since, as they come to terms with their loss.

Here Sarah tells us how the committed team at the Hospice helped her family through this devastating time.

“Chin and I met when we were students, aged just 19 and 20. Chin was the strongest person I’ve ever met – physically, mentally and in his values. But he was light-hearted with a strong sense of fun too. Being silly was a big theme of our relationship!

We started living together straight out of uni and planned to marry. Then, two weeks before our wedding, he got his diagnosis. It was a huge shock. We’d thought he had a virus, then the doctor sent him for an MRI. The results showed a tumour on Chin’s brainstem.

Over the next year, Chin underwent operations and radiotherapy. He recovered amazingly and was determined to get on with life. He went back to work, we married and had our children, Lucas and Lydia. Chin was a great father – very loving, playful and supportive.

Then in early 2021, the hospital said they’d need to repeat Chin’s treatment following a scan. This time, it was very different. He was operated on in March and when he came home in July it was with carers and limited mobility. But he was at home, where he’d always wanted to be, and still fighting for some sort of normality.

In December, things really deteriorated and Chin went back into hospital. He could no longer communicate but he’d already made his preferences clear, so we got him home as soon as we could. Within 48 hours, he’d passed away. He was just 41. I find it almost unbearable to remember this time because it was so painful for the children and me.

It was during those two days at home that we first had a visit from Becca, a Princess Alice Hospice nurse. Right from the start, Becca took time to understand what was important for us. She talked about options for Chin’s pain relief and made everything clear.

Chin with his two childrenWe had care on call, day and night. After a stressful time in hospital, support was now wrapped around us. The Hospice brought a human element, which you don’t realise how much you need in that situation. With their support, I felt less alone.

Afterwards, I wouldn’t have known where to turn or how to meet the children emotionally. I wasn’t in a great place. But I feel massively fortunate that Helen, the social worker from the Hospice, was there for us.

Lucas and Lydia started to attend the Hospice’s Dovetail bereavement group, and I went to the parents group. I had the feeling that I could just breathe – and there were so few places I could. It’s a setting where you can say as much or as little as you like, and people really understand.

It was a massive relief that the children had support from the Hospice too. They love it there. Being with children of similar ages means they have friends who know what it’s like. That was a really big thing for Lucas in particular. The group has helped them to remember their dad positively and increased their confidence in saying how they feel. The Hospice is so peaceful too, and the children love playing in the gardens.

I feel nothing but positive about the experiences we’ve had at Princess AliceSarah and Chin at dinner Hospice. Without them, I don’t know where we’d be today. There’s some amazing magic that the Hospice does that means we’ve got enough comfort with where we are in our grief. If we didn’t have that, I don’t think we’d be getting on with life in the way that we are. I really feel for anyone who doesn’t have somewhere like Princess Alice Hospice within their reach.”

We urgently need donations so we can continue to provide compassionate care to more local families, like Sarah’s, at the hardest time of all. Please, if you can, give a Christmas gift to our Light up a Life Appeal today.

Frances’ story

Frances and FrankWhen Frances’ husband of 62 years, Frank, started to fall over, Parkinson’s was suspected. After a lot of tests, he was diagnosed with a rare condition called progressive supranuclear palsy.  Frank’s health deteriorated but during the last few years of his life Princess Alice Hospice was there to support him and Frances. Here, she tells us about the difference that the Hospice team made and how she will always be grateful.

“Frank got worse little by little. It’s a horrible thing really. By the end, he was bedridden and couldn’t speak or do anything. When I first came into contact with Princess Alice Hospice, Frank was asked to the Wellbeing Centre there.

Afterwards, they came to visit us at home. I could call them at any time and they’d pop in. I mainly needed them at night.  I used to look after him myself, but it got to the point when I couldn’t do everything – I couldn’t move him for example. One time it took me an hour and a half – it was a nightmare and I was exhausted. Frances and Frank

I can’t praise the night nurses highly enough. All I had to do was phone them and they’d come as soon as they could and get on with what they had to do. They were amazing – always very pleasant and cheerful. I found them so compassionate and understanding. They were particularly kind to Frank, which I was more than grateful for.

It really made a difference knowing I could talk to them. I couldn’t always tell what Frank needed and would worry whether I was doing the right thing. His brain was fantastic and he could understand everything you were saying, but he couldn’t converse, so I was quite anxious. The Hospice nurses were always so reassuring. When they were there, I felt quite relaxed because I knew he was getting the best attention. They have such a lot to do, but they always found time and they genuinely do care. Frances and Frank

Frank could have been admitted into hospital, but I wanted him to stay at home.  The nurses who came knew exactly what his condition was and how to care for him. They treated him as an individual. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to cope and I would have been frightened, particularly at night. I’d have driven myself crackers, I think! The Hospice gave me peace of mind.

When Frank passed away during the night, I called the Hospice and they dealt with everything. They treated Frank with such dignity. Their handling of him was fantastic. I couldn’t have managed without them and I’ll be eternally grateful to them.

We urgently need donations so our night nurses can be there, whatever the hour. Please help by donating to our Care through the night Appeal today.

James and Sam’s story

After an operation on a brain tumour, Sam’s husband James carried on enjoying family life with their two children, Isabelle and Jackson. Eight years later, his condition rapidly deteriorated. Princess Alice Hospice was there to support the family and James spent his final hours peacefully in the Hospice, with his loved ones around him. Afterwards, the Hospice was still there for Sam, Isabelle and Jackson – and will be for as long as they need us. Sam told us what that has meant to them.

James and I met when we were working together. He was a bit of a joker and larger than life. Everybody loved him. We got together just before his 21st birthday. We married in 2006. Our daughter Isabelle was born in 2008 and Jackson followed in 2011.

James and the childrenThe year after Jackson was born, James was diagnosed with a brain tumour. He’d been having headaches and problems with his balance and peripheral vision. The doctor said he was stressed, but I thought it might be a problem with his sight. I persuaded him to go for an eye test and it was the optician who noticed something was wrong. He was transferred to St George’s where – because he agreed to be awake – they were able to remove 90% of the growth. As a result of a hole in his skull he was left with a large fluid-filled lump on his forehead which he made the most of at Halloween! He was always lots of fun as a dad. That’s what the children miss most.

Cancer was part of our lives for such a long time. There were good days and bad days, but it always worked out ok. Until the tumour continued to grow. James was treated with chemotherapy and then just before lockdown he became part of a clinical trial at the Royal Marsden. Nothing worked. James went downhill really quickly and we were told there were no treatment options left. He struggled to walk, needed more and more help and eventually had a hospital bed at home.

Sam and her familyI suppose I knew he was going to die, but because nobody actually said it, it was a shock when the Princess Alice Hospice first rang. But they were absolutely great from the start. Helen, their social worker, rang me every couple of days and a doctor came round to assess James.

It was during the pandemic, so we couldn’t visit the Hospice, but Helen would ask me how I was coping and how the children were and gave me advice on preparing them. Every other phone call was about James’s health, so it meant a lot that she was there for me. I knew if I ever needed them, day or night, the Hospice would be at the other end of the phone, ready to help.

Then after a particularly bad day, the Hospice doctor came to see us and said James had days to live. Before he was taken to the Hospice, loads of friends came to say goodbye. I collected the children from school early, so they could say goodbye. When the ambulance came for him family, friends and neighbours were lining the streets. He would have loved it.

Sam and JamesArriving at the Hospice in the ambulance was a bit of a blur. But I do remember how calm and quiet it was – and how they did their absolute best within the restrictions. Every single person we met was lovely and genuinely cared. I never felt pressured or rushed. That night, I was allowed to stay and so was James’s best friend. And the next day his family and friends were all able to visit. When James died, I was holding his hand. Princess Alice Hospice gave us as long as we needed – they put compassion first.

Sam and her familyAfterwards, the Hospice was still there for us, which was absolutely invaluable. Helen continued to ring and give me support. As soon as restrictions started to lift, she thought of us and we started going to the Dovetail bereavement groups. The parents sit together and the children do activities. There’s no agenda – you can talk about anything. Isabelle and Jackson had never met anyone who’d lost a parent and it’s been great for them. There’s an immediate understanding, because they’ve been through the same thing. Without the Hospice they wouldn’t have anything and knowing they’re there for as long as we need them is so reassuring.

A lot of people don’t realise that Princess Alice Hospice doesn’t just care for the person who’s dying, but everyone around them. I feel sad for families who haven’t had that and so grateful that we did.

Debi’s story

Person on the beach with a drink inside a pineappleSoon after starting a nursing degree at University, Debi’s youngest daughter, Emily, began to struggle with her vision and balance. Retired GP, Debi, initially thought her daughter had been burning the candle at both ends and enjoying university life to the full. After a series of tests, twenty-year-old Emily was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumour, a diffuse midline glioma, also known as DIPG, and was told that without treatment she might only have three months to live.

Debi says, “Fortunately, Emily outlived that prognosis. We then spent the next two years or so researching every treatment available, both in the UK and abroad, trying to find ways to extend her life.”

However, eighteen months later, Emily was told her condition was terminal and she was put in touch with Princess Alice Hospice for palliative care.

three people in front of a waterfall“When Emily was referred to the Hospice at the age of twenty-one, we didn’t think it would be the right place for her. She was so young and vibrant and we felt a Hospice would be a sad and depressing place for our lovely daughter. We were proven wrong though. The Hospice is a light, bright space with as much laughter as is possible. The grounds are beautiful, a really restful place. The nurses were amazing, so supportive and genuine. They took into account my medical background and were honest and open with me regarding Emily’s care and situation. It’s just an amazing place.

“ Once we were there we realised that the nursing staff were quite open to us decorating Emily’s room with her own personal items, photos of her 21st birthday party and pictures of holidays we’d taken together as a family. Her room faced the moat and, whenever possible, Emily and I spent time outside on the terrace in the sunshine, chatting with family and friends who visited her daily.

“ She had so many friends who wanted to visit that we had to work out a schedule. Thankfully, this was before the pandemic so her dad, Tim, and I, her brother, her sister, and all our extended family and friends were able to ensure there was an almost constant stream of people to keep her company. We were never made to feel we were in the way for always being present.

3 people wearing Princess Alice Hospice T-shirts“ I used to get up early and get to the Hospice in time to have breakfast with Emily and she was always washed, dressed and ready for me, thanks to the wonderful nurses. Her siblings could come and visit her after work, as could her many friends, who were an amazing support. I am still in touch with her friends and we often meet up for coffee.”

“ The care that Emily received was fantastic. The nurses made what was an horrendous situation, a little more bearable and I will always be grateful for that. We are still in contact with the Hospice, we fundraise for them and will continue to support them as a thank you for looking after Emily and the whole family. When we are in the Hospice, three years later, the nurses still remember our names and stop to ask how we are. They’re truly amazing people.”

Nick and Katharine

Picture of Nick in the ManShedKatharine was cared for by Princess Alice Hospice and died at home in 2020. Here, her husband Nick tells their story.

Katharine was the love of my life. I was a chef at the company where we both worked and we met at a staff party. I’m a terrible dancer, but my mate encouraged me to ask her. Afterwards, I couldn’t forget her – she was so bright and dynamic. Back in the kitchen at work I carved a rose from a potato, dipped it in red food colouring and sent it to her with a note asking her out. She said she’d love to and that’s how it began. We married, had our two sons and were together for 45 years. It was beautiful.

We first found out about Katharine’s cancer in 2013. Over the next seven years, she fought like hell to stay alive. She told the consultant she’d do anything to stay with her husband and family. But in the end, she was beaten. Katharine was released from the hospital in 2020. We were left to manage the end of my wife’s life in the middle of a pandemic, when even seeing a doctor was difficult.

But within days the Hospice got in touch, and we were not alone. Round-the-clock care meant Katharine was able to stay at home. Our nurses Jude and Claire helped us with everything. They made sure we had what we needed, managed Katharine’s pain and gave her comfort. When we came up against obstacles, they took our part. They advised and informed us – and genuinely cared. Whatever happened, I was confident there were people I could trust and rely on.

When Katharine died, I was lost. I couldn’t even leave the house at the time, as I’m diabetic and have had cancer myself. The closest I got to my grandchildren was seeing them through the window. The Hospice helped me through. It started with regular calls from my ‘bereavement buddy’ and online meetings with Steve and Sally from the bereavement team. When things opened up a little, I took part in coffee mornings and group walks at Kew Gardens. And now I’ve become a regular visitor to the Man Shed. I’ve not only learned woodworking skills but have made some firm friends, who have been on the same journey as me.

The Hospice has given me faith in human beings. They helped me through a nightmare and gave me hope that there was something beyond madness and sadness.

My dearest wish is that every local family should have that support.

If you would like to ensure we are here to help families like Nick and Katharine’s, please support our Under our Wing appeal today by dedicating a dove.

Case study of a Carer

June is caring for her partner of over 50 years. Jack has had several operations for cancer and has recovered from the surgery and is living his life as well as he can.

Many years ago when June was in her twenties, a very dear friend died and June remembers only too well the way the death and bereavement were handled – no-one said anything – it was as if nothing had happened. It left a very deep impression on June and since then she has nursed a parent and supported them until they died. She also had a friend who died under the care of Princess Alice Hospice and has been a supporter of our work ever since.

Although more experienced than many other people in looking after people who are very unwell, June wanted to be prepared for the next stage of caring that is looming and is a member of a local carers’ organisation. When the local group advertised the course for carers looking after people approaching the end of life, June signed up to attend the sessions at Princess Alice Hospice and together with other local carers (none of whom had met because of the pandemic) switched on Zoom and listened to the wisdom of other carers about the challenges of looking after someone you love as they become less well. June recognised it would be a good idea to be prepared early and address some of the end of life issues, rather than wait until any crisis occurred before getting in touch with us.

June felt a little bit like an imposter to begin with as it became apparent that the person she cares for was clearly a lot more able than the others on the call, but she soon realised that it was the right fit as the people attending the group all understood each other and what it is like to be responsible for someone you love twenty-four hours a day. Only people going through it or have been through it truly understand the role of a full-time carer.

Two people holding handsOne of the many issues that came up in the group was around spiritual care of carers and patients and the Carers’ Lead organised a session dedicated to this subject to be facilitated by the Hospice Chaplain who was able to support the carers via a Zoom call with them all. The carers appreciated the opportunity to talk about things they had not been able to discuss before.

June then attended a face to face meeting at the Hospice and appreciated the chance to meet in person and see the Hospice for herself. She feels now that she has ‘relaxed a notch’ in terms of having more understanding of what may happen in the future and having seen the Hospice for herself. She described the experience as ‘finding another strut to hold you up’

The experience has given June more confidence and she has even recognised that a neighbour needed some help and persuaded her to attend sessions at the local carers association (not yet at the Hospice but she is working on it…..)

The Families and Carers’ Lead continues to organise sessions for carers either on Zoom or on a face to face basis and it is not a requirement that the person being looked after is under our care. We are here for anyone in our catchment area who is looking after someone with a long-term condition or is reaching the end of their life.

For more information, please contact: Rose Noble on


Case study of a working carer

Jane is one of our patients living in her own home. She is in her eighties and has multiple conditions. She is semi-independent but needs support every day.

Lou is her daughter, she is married with a child and works full time in central London. She lives very close to Jane.

Each day, Lou gets up and wakes her child for school, makes a cup of tea, gets herself ready for the day and heads to Jane. She helps her get up, changes her oxygen supply from night time to day time and puts her pre-prepared lunch by the microwave. She oversees Jane taking at least 15 tablets every morning (plus more if other conditions have manifested themselves).

To help herself in this task, Lou has written down all the medicines her Mum takes on a piece of paper. On the other side is a list of all the conditions she is being treated for – this is laminated and within easy reach. When an ambulance was called after an incident recently, the paramedics were delighted with this sheet of paper as it helped them enormously.

A person walking with a stick being assistedLou then heads off on the train to work where she works in office management in a highly pressurised environment covering a multitude of areas.

All the time, Lou has her mobile with her in case she gets a call about her Mum. She often arranges to work around Jane’s appointments.

At the end of the day, Lou goes home to give her child some food and then drops in on her Mum to get the dinner ready for her. Once she has sorted that out, Jane goes home for her own dinner with her husband. A bit later, about 9.30pm, she goes back to help her Mum to bed and change the oxygen back ready for the night.

As well as this daily routine …every day….there are additional tasks: washing all the clothes, the bedding, the ironing and watering the garden for her Mum. And she likes to sit with her and chat in front of the TV at the weekend.

Jane loves living in her own home and does not want to leave it. She has filled in a Respect form and has expressed her wish to be taken to hospital to be treated for reversible causes, but otherwise would rather stay at home. She knows she is becoming less well.

Lou is her main carer – with some support from her husband who also works full time – it helps that she is not far from her Mum – but it has taken its toll on her own health and she has had to visit her own GP for some treatment. She knows she is so tired, as her days are so long and they are relentless. Of course, she would not change things as she would not want anyone else to be doing what she does for her Mum, but it is a 24/7 responsibility.

Lou did not know what to expect when her Mum was referred to us for palliative care and she was very pleasantly surprised when she got a call inviting her to meet with other carers and have regular catch ups via Zoom – her Mum was also very relieved that there was support for her daughter. Lou has found it really helpful to hear how other people are coping and even though all the scenarios are completely different, there is common ground in meeting others who know what she is going through. Lou has said they are a great support for her. She is hoping to come to the Hospice to have a look round when she gets the chance to do so.

There are many other carers who are living this ‘double-life’ they are often not visible but the support they give to their loved ones is very real, and helps the people they love to stay in their own homes for as long as possible. Working carers deserve as much support as we can give them.

For more information, please contact Rosie Noble on

Freida and Rianna


Freida was somebody who, in the words of her daughter, Rianna, ‘lit up every room…after making an entrance of course, with armfuls of food, the scent of Coco Chanel, and an indescribable aura, spilling love from all its edges.’

Over her lifetime, Freida gathered an ‘army’ of fiercely loyal friends around her, who were her chosen family, who saw her as the embodiment of Mother Earth; she would leave homemade scones on neighbours’ doorsteps, deliver chocolate beetroot cupcakes on Valentine’s Day, or drop off bunches of herbs for no other reason than it was a Tuesday. Eclectic friends were invited round for wonderful evenings at her home, to listen to her beloved Stereophonics, Rolling Stones, David Bowie or Muse, and to enjoy plentiful, delicious homemade food: ‘Mama was at the centre of everything and we were all around her. She was the centre of my life,’ says Rianna.

As well as being a keen traveler, Freida was a well-known and much loved member of her community in Surbiton. With a background as a chef and years spent working in corporate catering, Freida went on to run Wilders deli for over 10 years, where regulars flocked for food and chat – Freida remembered the details of everybody’s life, as well as their favourite sandwich. Rianna remembers that her mum’s mission was ‘to cook and nourish’ and that ‘her life was literally food. It was the centre of her world and she would jump for joy returning home with ‘natural treasures’, aka fresh fruit and veg, from the supermarket.’ Freida grew up with a mother who loved to cook and it was at home from a young age that she learnt her skills in the kitchen, preferring to experiment with Mediterranean and Middle Eastern flavours instead of sticking rigidly to recipes. Food was so important that, instead of a traditional slideshow of family memories on display at Freida’s funeral ceremony, Rianna chose to share a ‘delicious slideshow’ of beautiful dishes her mum had created for various events and gatherings over the years.

Freida and RiannaAs well as working, Freida was the sole parent to her two children, Rianna and Harry, raising them in the much-loved home they moved into in 1991, that was filled with music, food, friends, love and laughter. Long after her cancer diagnosis, Freida would frequently host evenings where friends would gather to enjoy good food and loud music. Although Freida reached a point where breathing and walking became a huge struggle and she couldn’t attend the party herself, she was determined to prepare a selection of her vibrant signature salads for a family friend’s 80th Birthday celebration in late August last year. It brought her great joy to know her food was being enjoyed by her loved ones.

In 2016, Freida was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. She approached chemotherapy treatment in the only way she knew how: fancy dress – Neon days, Army days, Blue days, always taking a copy of Vogue magazine with her to every appointment. While Freida made a physical recovery, she suffered severe psychological reactions to the preventative medications, which affected her mental health dramatically and caused episodes of anxiety and depression. After a time, Freida decided to embark on a path of what she called ‘active surveillance’ to manage her health, which involved frequent trips to hospital for scans. Freida’s cancer returned in July 2019, but she was able to tolerate treatment and was determined to live life to the full, creating wonderful memories with Rianna in Paris, Milan and New York that year. It remained open house at home, with friends and neighbours visiting constantly, music blaring and Freida continuing to host her infamous dinner parties.

Freida’s neighbor, Martha, and her husband, Wayne, knew her for several years before their friendship developed during Freida’s final two years, though Martha says ‘I fell in love with her the first time I met her.’ When Martha stopped working as a nurse two years ago, Freida and Martha were able to spend more time together – Freida’s ‘soulmate’ would hop over the garden wall and they would sit in their pyjamas to chat over coffee.

On 16 April last year, Freida received the devastating news that the cancer had spread to her spine and she would be referred for palliative care. Over the next six months, Rianna cared for her mum at home through the day, making the decision to give up the flat she had just signed for, to live back at the family home. Martha would relieve Rianna and come over to sleep beside Freida each night, to care for Martha physically and because she never wanted to be alone. Freida and Martha used walkie talkies to communicate through the day and often lay awake talking through the night, though Martha felt they shared an understanding that didn’t always need words. They called the nights their ‘sleepover club’ and Martha remembers they would enjoy ‘tea and music into the early hours.’ Martha would leave early each morning, around 6.00am, ‘after a quick de-brief over tea.’

Rianna rarely ventured far from Freida’s side, yet still walked an average of 80,000 steps a week to care for her mum through this time. Rianna and Martha became utterly physically and mentally exhausted. That summer, they were referred to Princess Alice Hospice’s Hospice at Home team. Feeling like she was moving forward with every decision was of utmost importance to Freida and she refused to discuss dying, but Hospice at Home nurse, Sandi, explained how Hospice care could make things better and allow her to move forward positively. Before Freida’s bed was moved downstairs, a handrail was fitted on the stairs to help her get to her bedroom, which she was determined to keep doing for as long as possible, to maintain her independence. Freida referred to Sandi and district nurse, Hannah, as her ‘angels’, while Rianna felt the visits were ‘some days the only proper connection to anybody else. Nothing I shared with them was shocking, I didn’t have to pre-empt anything I said. They brought a structure to our weeks.’

Rianna felt that the care Freida received ‘helped her to be the best version of herself. We had good days, not just hours.’ Shortly before Freida came to the Hospice, she was able to enjoy a beautiful, sunny afternoon tea ‘on the terrace’ in her treasured garden at home, reminiscing about concerts she’d enjoyed with family and friends. Rianna remembers feeling immense relief upon arriving at the Hospice, after witnessing the ‘expert, kind and gentle care that just would not have been possible at home.’

At the Hospice, Freida was asked, ‘what food do you really like?’ Although she had no appetite, she would opt for her favourites: scrambled eggs, avocado and bananas. Rianna felt supported by the nurses at Princess Alice: ‘Despite the high emotions of the situation, there’s also a strong sense of calm and everybody had so much time for me. I knew I could ask for anything I needed to, someone would explain or listen.’

Freida’s bed was turned round to face out to nature and the beautiful gardens, allowing her to enjoy the morning sunshine and Martha feels that ‘everything worked out exactly as it should have done.’ Looking back since, Martha says of the Hospice: ‘I associate this place with good things, people who get you. I just feel sad for the people whose poorly people don’t get to do this. It would change your memories.’

Rianna remains grateful and comforted by the care her mum received before she died on 17 September 2021: ‘She lived right until the moment she couldn’t. Seeing the nurses take over the intense level of care that Mama needed, had she not come into the Hospice, I think the memory of her dying would have been a very different one.’

At the ceremony held before Freida’s woodland burial, Martha read out this poem in memory of her friend:


Bright candlelight
shines through the dark, tender night.
All the laughter, love and pain,
the Ok Google-volume 10, waking up a sleeping angel,
for rock stars and sunflowers.

Hand in hand-
step by step-
We are living this funny old game.
All our adventures,
held in the moment.

My soulmate,
sister and friend,
your understanding is dear and sweet
and plentiful.
It is everlasting.

Rich am I,
honoured for your teachings,
your giving,
your guidance, your endurance, your understanding
and for hearing me…

While you are out in the world, your impressions are everywhere,
and I will be safe
in the arms
of the angels you left for me.
You will be safe

in our hearts. Together, we will love and laugh again…


Paul and Lesley’s story

Man in deckchair in gardenPaul’s father Lesley was a much-loved husband, father and grandfather. In March 2021 he started to experience worrying symptoms. After he was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour, Princess Alice Hospice made it possible for Lesley to be cared for where he most wanted to be – at home in Hersham, with his family around him. Paul told us how the Hospice’s support transformed the family’s experience.

“Dad never stopped doing things for others”

Dad was a real family man and one of those people who simply didn’t stop doing things for others. He was the guy who would always pick somebody up, take someone to hospital, do their shopping. He looked after my mother’s family, moving my grandfather in with us when he was ill with cancer. He was really generous too – if he was in the pub, he’d always insist on paying.

Although he left school early, Dad was an incredibly clever bloke. At the age of 40 he went to night school and got a ‘O’ Level in English and when we were children he took me and my brother to all sorts of museums and galleries – I did the same with my children.

He spent most of his life working in engineering – mainly in the aircraft industry – and was a very practical man. He learned to bricklay and do electrics and plumbing and was always busy with a project – he built an extension and a double garage on his own and installed central heating from scratch!

Throughout his life, Dad was barely ever ill, which made it all the more shocking when he started to experience health problems.

“He was desperate to come home”

Family group in gardenI first noticed that something was wrong when he came to visit us in Woking one day. We were having a chat and I noticed his voice was a bit slurry. When he was walking back to his car, he was really unsteady on his feet. A couple of weeks before he’d been fine, but now he looked as though he’d aged 10 years.

I was concerned for him, so I ordered him a walking stick – a trendy mountaineering one. Then I found out he’d fallen a couple of times and hurt his head, so I put him under pressure to get a doctor’s appointment.

The doctor thought it might be a sinus problem, but Dad kept saying, “There’s something in my head for sure, but I don’t know what it is”.

Then one day Mum called and asked me to come over, saying Dad could hardly walk and looked really unwell. I said, “Right, we’re going to A&E and they’ll give him a scan”. We took him to hospital and a few hours later we got a phone call. They’d found a tumour.

The hospital told us they were keeping Dad in to do some tests. This was during the pandemic so we couldn’t visit him, which was the worst thing. He’d barely ever been in hospital, and he found it difficult. He was desperate to come home. I thought, “If I can’t talk to him face to face, hug him and support him, then he’s going to come home”. So they got him ready and I came to pick him up.

“The Hospice was absolutely phenomenal”

After we got home, we were referred to Princess Alice Hospice by Action for Carers and we soon had a call from one of the Princess Alice Hospice nurses. After that chat we started to get a wave of help. It started with some equipment – a frame to go around the toilet to give Dad more steadiness, a wheelchair and a walker to help him get around, that kind of thing. They coordinated all the medication as well as the other Hospice nurses and the district nurses. We were visited regularly by nurses and the consultant came to see Dad too. We really had VIP treatment. Dad’s mood improved, he said he was feeling better and he was able to get up and around. They went above and beyond. It was absolutely phenomenal.

Every person we came into contact with from the Hospice really seemed to care. I remember our nurse turned up one day when we’d really been struggling. I said, “I wasn’t expecting to see you today” and she said, “I just came because I was worried.” Wow. That was exactly what we needed.

As time went on and things became more difficult for Dad the Hospice provided a hospital bed, and a commode. Then carers started to come to help dad in and out of bed and to get dressed. First it was once a day and in the end they came four times a day to help.

“They were there for us 24 hours and did everything possible”

Paul and Lesley in the gardenThe Hospice was brilliant about supporting the family too. My mum was getting very stressed and wasn’t sleeping, so they arranged for their nurses to start sitting with Dad at night. They also put us in touch with a ‘compassionate neighbour’ a lovely lady who lived locally for Mum to talk to. With the Hospice’s support, she was able to be a wife again, not a carer.

Princess Alice Hospice were there for us 24 hours. They said, “If there’s a problem in the night pick up the phone and we’ll be there”. From coordinating his care to speaking up on our behalf, they did absolutely everything. Not only did they have the authority and knowledge to do their best for us, they had an intimate understanding of what was going on in our house – and they had genuine empathy. They really seem to see it as a privilege to be part of your family and to help you find solutions and support you.

The Hospice team did everything possible to make sure Dad was as comfortable as he could be. What’s more, they kept our family unit together by giving us time to be with him, while they took care of his needs and allowed him to keep his dignity.

“The Hospice earned my trust and restored my faith in human nature”

With the Hospice’s support, Dad could have died comfortably at home, but he chose to go to the Hospice right at the end his life, as he thought it would be easier for us. So, when the nurses told us it was the beginning of the end they got him a bed and the ambulance and paramedics turned up to take him to what he called ‘the hotel’!

Dad got the most amazing care and we were told exactly what to expect. At the end, we were all with him. Thanks to the Hospice team, Mum had come to terms with the finality of it and she said to Dad, “OK love, time for you to go”. Within 10 or 15 seconds he stopped breathing. It was the most peaceful death.

Princess Alice Hospice was there for us then and they’ve been there ever since, calling to check we’re OK and offering us support. They turned a horrible scenario into something we could cope with and they reminded us of the human side of care. It was like being supported by a family. They earned our trust and restored my faith in human nature.

I want to do what I can to support Princess Alice Hospice so other local people can be cared for in their homes, where they want to be, whenever they need it – just as Dad was. If you’d like to help make that possible, please make a donation to our Care on your Doorstep Appeal today.

Anne, Compassionate Neighbour

Compassionate Neighbour, Anne, originally qualified as a midwife and has been nursing for over 40 years, including a period of time spent working as a bank nurse at Princess Alice Hospice when her children were younger. For the last 10 years, she has worked in a safeguarding role for young people at Kingston Hospital. In 2018, and with her own children now grown up, Anne was keen to give a few hours a week to a volunteering role, which is how she found out about the Compassionate Neighbour scheme run by the Hospice; drawn to the idea of giving something back to her community, Anne decided to sign up for the weekend of training, which included role-playing many different scenarios to prepare her and others for situations that Compassionate Neighbours might come across, which Anne found both useful and enjoyable. Soon after the training, Anne was matched with a lady called Stella, who had recently been referred to the scheme; Stella was 98 years old, bed bound and living by herself, with the help of carers, in a maisonette in Surbiton.

Ann and Stella with dogAt their first meeting at Stella’s home, Anne felt very lucky that she had been matched with this extremely independent lady and enjoyed her visits from the outset. They soon settled into a comfortable routine which continues to this day: Anne tends to pop round one evening in the week and on Saturdays, having done some shopping for Stella and taking a few of her favourite things: the Daily Mail newspaper and tv guide, a packet of scones and some lemon drizzle cake. As Anne says, ‘it’s been a real eye opener to me, Stella is happy with what she has – her TV, her cakes and a warm room, she’s happy to have a big window to look out of and watch the clouds.’ The pair have spent time talking about Stella’s memories of the Great War, and she’s entertained Anne with her stories of D-Day celebrations on Wimbledon Common. Stella used to have dogs and is a real animal lover, so she loves it when Anne’s dog, Betty, comes to visit and she’s able to feed him treats. Other members of Anne’s family have enjoyed getting to know Stella, too, and if Anne can’t make her weekly visits her daughter, Abby, is happy to pop along with her own dog, Betty’s brother, Sid: ‘Stella likes to have young people around her and she adores Abi,’ says Anne, ‘her eyes light up when she sees her.’

Stella with dogsWhat has the impact of being a Compassionate Neighbour been on Anne’s own life? As she herself says, ‘I feel very lucky I was matched with Stella. She’s never overstepped the mark with what she expects from me. I’m not trying to replace a family member and we’re not ‘gushy’ or ‘huggy’ with one another, but she knows she can rely on me and we enjoy one another’s company. My sister, Liz, has also met her and we’ve said that with our own mum no longer being around, Stella fills a bit of a void and I’m doing what I’d be doing for her if she was still alive – getting her some shopping, checking up on her.’

Stella with dogWhat would Anne’s advice be to anybody who may be considering becoming a Compassionate Neighbour? ‘I think it’s really important to remember you’re in that person’s home. They often won’t see many other people at all and so you have to know how long you should stay. It can be exhausting for them, so 15 minutes of good quality time is better than staying for hours. It’s a two-way thing as well, if it becomes a chore and you don’t look forward to seeing the person then it’s not going to work because they will pick up on that.’ Anne feels very lucky to have been matched with Stella, there are elements of her own personality that she recognises in her and it’s clear they have become close. Anne will be retiring from nursing soon and is very proud that Abby has just qualified as a nurse and is also now working at Kingston Hospital. But Anne will definitely continue her twice-weekly visits to Stella, accompanied by Betty: ‘I saw straightaway that Stella is her own person, she doesn’t always want a lot of conversation but she’s very happy to sit with Sid up on her bed. A while ago she had to go to a nursing home, which she really didn’t enjoy because she values her independence. She was so happy to get back to her cosy flat, which she has just the way she wants it; she’s got her boxes with things in and her lamp with a low bulb, but it’s just how she likes it.’ It’s clear that Anne has a huge impact on Stella’s life, too, and helps her to continue living in a way that suits her.

Thinking about volunteering? Find out more about our Compassionate Neighbour role or other volunteering roles.


Maneck’s story



Maneck with his wife and two girls in NorwaySharon, 51, died peacefully at Princess Alice Hospice in the midst of the pandemic in November 2020 with her husband, Maneck, at her side. Their two daughters, Ruby and Talulla, were able spend time with their mum in the Hospice as well. Here Maneck tells their story.

Sharon and I met while backpacking in Australia and we couldn’t forget each other. A year later we moved into our first house in East Molesey. Our daughter Ruby followed in 2007 and Talulla in 2009. But in 2018 Sharon was diagnosed with lung cancer and our lives changed forever.

After a year of treatment in hospital, Sharon was told that the cancer had spread. We went for a last unforgettable family holiday in Norway and when we returned the country was about to enter its first lockdown. Sharon was given a new medication and we were advised to go home and not leave. For the next five months, we were confined to the house.

Those months had started to break us. Sharon had turned into someone different- the cancer had spread to her brain. There was no support, no friends and no hiding the difficulties of cancer from our children.

The following summer, when restrictions were eased, we were first put in touch with Princess Alice Hospice. I will always remember that first visit. I’d expected a hospital, but when we walked in, we could see a shop and a café. It felt very calm and safe. That day we met Helen, the Hospice social worker, who guided the children through this incredibly stressful time. She was a magical person and we will talk about her for the rest of our days.

My daughters continued to see Helen for regular one-to-one appointments (which moved online during lockdown) while I was able to sink into my favourite sofa in the coffee shop. I was running on empty. I’m not the sort of guy who dozes during the day, but I’d sit there and within 10 minutes I’d be asleep. The kids were being cared for and I could finally switch off and recharge.

In early November Sharon was admitted to hospital. The country was in lockdown again and she wasn’t allowed any visitors. After a week I was finally able to see her on compassionate grounds. Shortly afterwards Sharon was admitted to the Hospice and from then on everything changed. Everyone I met at the Hospice cared. They cared about Sharon and they remembered I was a human being who cared about her. Because I felt safe and reassured, I could concentrate on being a husband and a father.

They settled Sharon in and I returned with Ruby and Talulla – I was astonished at the difference. They’d done her hair and washed her, her room was lovely and calm and she was sleeping. The next time we visited Sharon was awake, she recognised the girls and waved at them.

We were allowed to spend time as a family – they were so flexible and thoughtful. The restrictions meant we couldn’t be there while members of staff were, so they let us feed her and stay together.

Three days later Sharon died peacefully in her sleep, I was able to be at her side. The Hospice have continued to support both me and the girls – we still get support from Helen and the Dovetail bereavement groups, it’s a huge relief having somewhere to turn.

They are there to support us through everything – from Christmas to Talulla’s first day at high school. Being able to ask if something is a good ideas, having them there to reassure you that the path you’re taking stays positive, is a lifeline. Although Sharon arrived in the worst possible circumstances, me and my children felt comfortable. We’re doing OK now – and I don’t think we would be without Princess Alice Hospice.

My sofa in the coffee shop is a symbol of what the Hospice has provided for me personally – a caring, loving environment which provides a dignified place to go through the cancer journey. I sit there knowing the children are safe and looked after and I feel comforted.

If you would like to ensure we are here to help families like Maneck and Sharon’s please support our Light up a Life appeal today.


Graham and Gillian

Graham and Gillian with two of their grandchildren

Graham and Gillian with two of their grandchildren

Graham died at the Princess Alice Hospice in 2019, with his beloved wife Gillian by his side. Here Gillian tells their story.  

Graham and I were married for nearly forty years had three children and seven grandchildren – little Ava, was born after Graham died, aged just 62. 

Graham was diagnosed with terminal cancer after what we’d thought was a straightforward procedure – it devastated the whole family. I’m so grateful that we were put in touch with the Hospice early on. My first experience was not the formal, serious place I’d expected. Princess Alice Hospice gives you a warm feeling, like a comfort blanket.  

Donna, the nurse who visited us at home, was a lifeline. You’d think Graham was the only patient she had! And when Graham moved to the Hospice, he found it really comforting to have professionals on hand.  

The most important thing for both of us was to be together, and they respected that. The room we were given was large enough to accommodate all of us. It looked out on a lovely courtyard garden. There was a bed for me there and on Graham’s last few nights they pushed the beds together, so I could sleep beside him and hold his hand.  

At the Hospice they look after the whole family. The grandchildren love going there – and that was important to Graham. I found the carers’ coffee mornings a great support, and after Graham’s death, the sessions at the bereavement café helped. We both took advantage of counselling sessions too. Graham’s favourite place was the Man Shed – he could relax and say what he wanted to the other lads while they worked. Sometimes that’s not easy with your family.  

Every member of staff and volunteer shares the same ethos of kindness and care. Not only did they make Graham as comfortable as possible, they thought about the tiniest details. My memories of Graham’s time at the Hospice are happy ones. It’s just a nice place to be at the time you need it most.  

My heartfelt wish is that Princess Alice Hospice can take more local people under their wing. 

If you would like to ensure we are here to help families like Gillian and Graham’s, please support our Under our Wing appeal today by dedicating a dove.

Compassionate Neighbours during lockdown

Just as the country went in to a national lockdown, John’s wife Ruth died in March 2020. He found during the following weeks and months that friends slowly started to distance themselves from him and he was left with almost nobody he could freely talk to about Ruth.

It was Compassionate Neighbour Co-ordinator at the Hospice, Alison Kilby, who first suggested to John that he be matched with someone who could support him through this difficult time.

Compassionate Neighbours are trained volunteers who offer friendship, a listening ear and regular emotional and social support to people in their local community; People who are lonely or socially isolated due to the effects of their own or a loved one’s long term or life limiting illness.

John was matched with Robin who phoned John weekly to chat about anything and everything.

John quickly learned that Robin was a good listener and understood his situation. He could talk to Robin freely about Ruth and this reduced the stress he felt. They also shared a love of football which led to a regular swapping of notes on their teams.

What started off as a weekly phone call, due to COVID restrictions, soon progressed to regular Zoom sessions and these gave John something to look forward to. In John’s words: ‘a reason to get up, get washed and get a proper shirt on’.

He also added: “I would whole heartedly recommend the service even for a short time to get over the initial months of bereavement.”

If you, or somebody you know, could benefit from the support of a Compassionate Neighbour, please visit



James and Charlotte’s story

Charlotte and I met at university, but it wasn’t until after graduating that we started to go out together. We both joined a charity project and taught English in township schools in South Africa. It was a memorable experience, in tough circumstances, and it helped to bring us together.

Charlotte was a food writer and editor who worked with some of the country’s best known chefs. In the 90s she lived in London, and I came down from a job in Newcastle to join her. We were married in 2000, in Shropshire, and the year after our first son, Joseph, was born. We moved to Ireland the following year and spent almost a decade in Dublin. Two more sons, Patrick and Charlie, arrived while we lived there. In 2011 we moved to Thames Ditton, just a few miles from Princess Alice Hospice, and the boys settled into local schools.

Two years before that move back across the Irish Sea, Charlotte had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and she was treated in Dublin. She continued to write and work, editing books and writing about food and travel, while based at home and bringing up the boys. She was always determined that her cancer would never stop her doing the things she loved in life, although she didn’t ever like being called “brave” or “battling”. Charlotte was a beautiful person, as her obituary in The Times after she died in October 2018 described, and it was her spirit, her dignity, grace and loyalty which made her so loved by her many friends and family.

In 2015 we found that the cancer had returned. After more forms of gruelling and difficult treatment, Charlotte went into a hospital in London that October before being moved to Princess Alice Hospice, much nearer to our home. We had driven past the place often on the way for muddy walks with the children or to Garsons Farm, but we had never been inside. While it was comforting to have her nearer, it was overwhelming to know that she was in a hospice, and what that meant.

We talked often during her time at the Hospice about how wonderful the staff were. They helped make the most difficult, painful time more bearable. Without exception – and we met dozens of nurses, doctors and other staff in that short, intense period – they were caring, warm and kind, as well as utterly professional. We always agreed that care is to be expected, but compassion goes well beyond that. The Hospice staff we met were compassionate to Charlotte, and to the rest of us. That really mattered, and it has stayed with me.

On one occasion a member of staff spent a long time tracking down a TV for Charlotte’s room so that we could watch a family film together. We felt guilty as we didn’t really feel in the mood, but it demonstrated how the team really wanted to help us as a family, and especially Charlotte as a patient. Another time a wheelchair was quickly found so Charlotte and I could go round the garden on a beautiful autumnal day. I slept in the room for a few nights, and started to recognise the friendly nursing staff as they came on shift. Friends and family came from overseas and around the UK to visit Charlotte, and they were welcomed with cups of tea, warm smiles, tissues when required, vases for the many bunches of flowers, and calm information.

Charlotte died on October 28th 2018. I have been back many times, for events or to visit staff, and we are pleased to be able to help and support the brilliant work in a small way. Our boys, all teenagers now, do the Santa Run with me each December. We donate items regularly to the Princess Alice Hospice shops.

The fact that Charlotte and I managed to have some very special time together in the last few days of her life was due, in part, to the compassionate support of the Hospice team. I will always be grateful for that.

If you’d like to help ensure we are here to help families like Alex’s, please support our In Touch appeal with a donation today.

David and Alex

David was 70 when he died of cancer on 29 November 2016. He and his wife were living in Fetcham, where David spent the last 16 weeks of his life with the care and support of Princess Alice Hospice. Here, his wife Alex tells their story.

David and I met at university in 1965, when I began my degree in biology. I was a little taken aback to discover I needed to know such advanced maths, so a friend put me in touch with David. I still can’t understand the intricacies of advanced maths but we had a very happy marriage. Our golden wedding anniversary would have been in 2019, but we celebrated 50 years together in 2015.

David didn’t know anything was wrong until he started struggling to swallow food. By the time he was diagnosed, he was already Stage 4. He went through chemotherapy and a major operation in August 2015 before being referred to Princess Alice Hospice.

A nice young man came to see us and explained what the Hospice could do. We chose that, as far as we possibly could, we’d manage David at home, which is what we did. As David approached the end of his life, two Princess Alice nurses came every day. It came to the stage that David actually looked forward to them coming. They were so reassuring and very nice to be with.

When I first met the Princess Alice Hospice nurses, I knew things would be okay. They were totally competent, so friendly and there was a lot of continuity. We tended to get the same two nurses throughout, which was lovely.

The Hospice cared for David in a whole range of ways. They helped with practical and medical matters. David wasn’t bedbound at first, but became increasingly weak so they helped him shower and get dressed. I could only help a little – I’m only 4’9” so the practical things were quite difficult. When David had to be moved downstairs they were amazing. They arranged for him to have one of these proper beds downstairs, which made things so much easier.

Having the support of the Hospice, meant David could stay in the place he felt most safe and comfortable. It was comforting for him that everything around him was familiar. I was there all the time, his daughter and grandchildren could come and go and all his friends could come and visit whenever they wanted. We had a constant stream of friends and family coming to see us and that would not have been possible otherwise. People could just come and go, they brought food and all sorts of things and right up until the day he died his grandchildren could come and see him. He just felt comfortable in his own environment. There was a very nice atmosphere. I had friends saying ‘you can’t come for supper, but we’re coming and bringing it with us’. They knew they could come any time and would always be welcome, which was lovely.

But not everything was easy and the Hospice supported me through some of the most difficult times. They showed me how to make David more comfortable, what to give him, not to worry – this might happen, that might happen – but you know not to worry. And at the end of the day I knew they were only ever a phone call away – no matter the hour. David was never in any pain at night, but when he was a bit distressed I’d call and a couple of nurses would visit that night, which was wonderful. They made us both feel extremely confident that if we needed help, they’d be there.

They also supported us emotionally. We’re both terribly English and tend not to show emotion much. David only broke down a couple of times and I made sure I never broke down in front of him or my daughter. The nurses were great. They provided reassurance when I needed it.

The Hospice was there for us every step of the way, enabling David to have a peaceful death. The morning he died they came as usual and said, ‘he’s not going to last much longer now’ and a couple of hours later he stopped breathing. There was no distress once the nurses settled him, which made it easier for him but also for me and my daughter. The other great thing is they were able to say ‘it’s not going to be long now’, so I could call my daughter and she was with us when he died.

Supporting the family afterwards

The Hospice continued to support me and my daughter after David’s death. I was very touched that the Hospice called me on several occasions after David died, saying ‘Are you alright? Is there anything we can do for you?’

I found out about the little services that the Chaplain Steve Nolan ran and my daughter and I went to one just a week after my husband died. It was very raw, but great to come – a soothing experience. Months later they were still in touch. It was really lovely.

Supporting Princess Alice Hospice

I can’t bear to think about how David’s last weeks would have been without the kindness of those nurses and the support Princess Alice Hospice gave us, it meant so much.

I want to help the Hospice and have become a member of the Hospice’s research committee. It’s nice. I’m giving something back to the Hospice and it makes me feel useful. It’s such a worthy cause.

If you’d like to help ensure we are here to help families like Alex’s, please support our Care Round the Clock Appeal with a donation today.

Anne and Sarah

Anne was just 66 when she died from lung cancer at Princess Alice Hospice in April 2019. She was a devoted mum, grandmother and sister. Anne was initially cared for at home by Princess Alice Hospice nurses and spent the last weeks of her life in the Hospice. Here, her daughter Sarah tells their story.

“Mum had many jobs throughout her life – she left school at 15 to start a hairdressing apprenticeship and continued hairdressing throughout her life, with a short break as an air hostess for a few years in her twenties. She later established a thriving dog-sitting business. She absolutely loved animals. She was a very hard-working, active and positive person, who was always on the go.

Once the hospital referred mum to the Princess Alice Hospice, the care she received was almost instant. She wanted to stay at home for as long as possible and, with the help of the Hospice, she was able to do so.

I stayed with mum a couple of nights every week and I particularly remember one of the nurses, Lucy. She came once a week at first, then every few days, phoning on the others to see how we all were. I really appreciated how she always had time for us. She must have been so busy and emotionally drained, but every time she came into the house I never felt that she was in a rush. She was present with us, there to listen. She was there for as long as Mum needed her and with the phone calls, little touches like that, you just knew someone was looking out for you. I could be honest and say ‘It’s not OK. Can you come out again?’ That constant care really helped.

As mum’s illness progressed and her pain increased, the Princess Alice Hospice 24 hour helpline became crucial in giving mum the support she needed, when it was hard to cope. I remember coming in so many times and she’d be in tears – she had a really high pain threshold so I knew she felt so helpless. That’s when I’d phone Princess Alice Hospice and they’d say to me ‘try this tablet, do this’. They taught me about the medication so I knew inside out what everything was. They educated me so much, which I found helpful because initially I found it overwhelming.

The Princess Alice Hospice nurses reviewed mum’s medication every few days and checked she was using the oxygen and equipment properly. They were so sensitive, gentle, straightforward, honest and kind. Importantly, they gave mum some control. They would guide you and say, ‘this is what we can offer’ but never ‘you should do this’.

We’d explain that she was struggling to make it upstairs to bed or get to the toilet and the next day a hospital bed for downstairs and a commode were delivered. They’d just help with everything. She was losing weight and I remember trying to order special drinks and different things to keep her comfortable online and they said ‘No, we’ll do that for you.’

Lucy was always respectful and always checked that Mum was happy for the family to be there for difficult conversations. It’s a very simple thing, but very important in order to keep someone’s dignity.

Mum’s pain continued to gradually increase and soon she was having trouble sleeping. The Princess Alice Hospice team were there for us again. They’d come out at night and administer pain relief and comfort her so she could her get some sleep.

I knew I could call on the Hospice, even at night. They always came very quickly and if they couldn’t, rather than just saying ‘Sorry it will be a while’, they’d give you a time and a few things to try in the meantime so psychologically you’d feel you were doing something. That gave a bit more peace of mind. I’d often phone them in a real state and they’d calm me down and say ‘right this is what we need to do’. Then they would come and give medication and stay until mum could fall asleep, so we could relax. They’d give you that peace of mind.

As Mum’s condition deteriorated, the nurses suggested Mum stay at the Hospice to help with pain management. My Grandmother had been cared for there in 2014, so it was a familiar place and one we trusted to help mum at this overwhelming time. We knew it was the right time. As soon as we arrived I saw mum relax.

The Hospice made every effort to make mum comfortable and content. I remember the Hospice’s therapy dog visiting mum. Small things like this made such a difference. I will also never forget how much it meant to Mum when the Hospice gave her a bath, which she’d been unable to have due to a stomach drain. She was like a new woman when she came out. They’d washed her hair – it was so nice to see.

Towards the end mum only really wanted ice cream and she could have that any time of day. The nurses and doctors were constantly thinking of things, rather than just leaving her lying in bed. They’d say, ‘Would you like a hand massage today?’ It was all about comfort, peace of mind and breaking up such a long day.

We could spend all day at the Hospice and the nurses even made up a bed for me to sleep over. The nurses felt like family. They’d bring Mum her breakfast and they’d say to me ‘Right, what are you having for breakfast?’ They didn’t have to do that. They genuinely cared about Mum and about my welfare too. You could push a button in the middle of the night because mum’s breathing had changed and they’d never make you feel like you were being a nuisance. One nurse would bring me hot chocolate every night and have one with me. I could talk to them because they understood and would never judge. The emotional support was amazing.

The Hospice is such a special place. It sounds strange, but a Hospice is one of the loveliest places to be. You no longer feel alone. Walking in, my shoulders would drop, I’d feel relaxed, and I’d feel safe. We knew she was in good hands.

Supporting the whole family

Not only did the Hospice support mum and me throughout, they were always there for our whole family.

My Aunt remembers how they helped her mum (my grandmother) when she went into the Hospice: “When the lady said ‘I think it’s time she went into the hospice’ she was a shoulder for me to cry on. Who else do you go to for that? Where else would you get that reassurance, and know they’re there for you as well? And when she died it didn’t end. I don’t really do counselling or anything like that, but it was nice to know it was there if we needed it.”

I too found the continued support helpful. The Hospice phoned regularly afterwards just to see how we were. I’m not really a talker, but having that one person phoning you, allowing you to stop and think ‘How am I doing?’ really made a difference. And things like the annual Light up a Life service give you permission to really have a moment and remember.

Supporting Princess Alice Hospice

Sarah says she and the family are committed to helping Princess Alice Hospice in recognition of the incredible care both her mum and Grandmother received.

“Princess Alice Hospice is my charity because it’s touched our hearts. We would have paid unlimited amounts of money for that care and the fact that you’re not charged any money is beyond belief really. We will always support the Hospice because the job they do is amazing and I hope that sharing our experience means it can help someone else.”

If you’d like to help ensure we are here to help families like Sarah’s, please support our Care Round the Clock Appeal with a donation today.

Tom, Emma, Daniel, Matthew and Sam



Tom, 42, died peacefully in his sleep at Princess Alice Hospice in 2019, with his beloved wife Emma at his side. The couple’s three young sons visited their dad every day he was at the Hospice. Here Emma tells their story.

“Tom and I met soon after leaving university. Our relationship was full of love, friendship, hope, happiness and adventure. We married in 2006 and have Daniel (now 10), Matthew (now 8) and Sam (now 4). Tom was a natural father. He adored our boys, and they adored him. He made us feel so special.

“Tom was diagnosed with cancer in January 2016. I was 37 weeks pregnant with Sam at the time. Living with cancer became our normal. We shared everything and always supported each other. Tom was remarkable throughout, and we chose to live life in every moment.

“Life became truly hard in 2019, with many visits to hospitals. Tom’s health deteriorated and he began to receive palliative care from Princess Alice Hospice. We started with care in the community, but management for Tom’s symptoms was difficult and he moved to a bed at the Hospice in May.

“The staff were phenomenal and made Tom and all our family feel as comfortable as possible. The doctors discussed what they could do to help get Tom’s symptoms under control. We were supported by a family support worker who was always available for both Tom and me.”

“I stayed with Tom at the Hospice, and the boys visited every day. Tom was in a room that looked out onto the beautiful garden, and he enjoyed watching the boys play. The room was only a short distance from the playroom, which the boys loved to explore.

“In early June 2019, we celebrated Daniel’s birthday in the Hospice garden. Tom’s parents, siblings, my parents and our boys were all together for that special occasion. Our nurse, Suzanne, found a comfortable chair for Tom to sit in outside, and it felt so normal to be together enjoying all the laughter and joy a birthday brings.

“That evening, he drifted in and out of sleep, but I was with him to comfort him when he woke. I told him that I loved him and he smiled and nodded, he was so tired. Shortly after I fell asleep that night, one of the nurses woke me up. She’d come in to check on us and told me she had watched for Tom to breathe for a while and he hadn’t. She stayed with me while I held his hand and stroked his face. He looked so beautiful and so peaceful as though he was still asleep with his head turned towards me.

“Princess Alice Hospice has become so much more to the boys and me than just the place where Tom spent his last weeks of life. We have joined the Dovetail bereavement group for families like ours at Princess Alice, which meets once a month. It helps the boys process their feelings through creative craftwork and activities. I meet with other parents, who have also
lost their life partner far too soon. It’s a comfortable and safe space.

“2020 has been an unusual year for everyone. For my little family, it has meant the added challenge of grief and temporary loss of adult companions and the support I had come to rely upon. However, Dovetail has continued to meet via Zoom, which has been a tremendous support to the boys and me.

“Tom will always light up our lives when we think about and remember him. Before he became ill, our little family always spent Christmas mornings together. That time alone together, just us five, was so precious.

“I have loved Tom for twenty years, eighteen and a half years where I could reach out and hold his hand whenever I wanted to, and eighteen months now with space where his hand used to be. This Christmas, we will be thinking of all those who have loved and lost, and who are living their lives without their special person.”

Gary’s story

Gary met Carolyn 41 years ago when they worked in the City. Dinner one Saturday was, as Gary says, ‘the beginning of the beginning’ and they married five months later. After their first daughter Carly was born, they moved from Primrose Hill in London to Weybridge.

Before the birth of her second daughter, Julia, Carolyn discovered homeopathy, which led her to qualify over the years as an RS Hom, Homeopathy’s equivalent of a PHD; she built a highly successful practice and established an eminent career around homeopathy, nutrition, Theta healing and kinesiology.

To mark what Gary describes as a ‘wonderful marriage’, they celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary in 2004 by taking 6 friends to Patara in Turkey: at one memorable long lunch, Gary donned a top hat and Carolyn wore a tiara. When the photos were developed a few weeks later, one of Carolyn showed lumps on her neck: a doctor confirmed it was cancer, along with the words, ‘I can save your life, but the procedure will involve removing part of your jaw and your entire palate,’ leaving her unable to speak coherently or eat and drink in public again. With much of her life spent talking with patients and dining with friends, Carolyn decided she would prefer not to live than undergo such radical treatment. Instead, she researched all she could and embraced many alternative therapies. After four years the cancerous cysts had shrunk, all seemed well, but then tumours returned in her neck.

By this time, surgical practices had moved on dramatically and Carolyn’s new surgeon told her he could rebuild her palate using part of her wrist and repairing that with tissue from her stomach. Following a gruelling 18-hour operation, Carolyn faced a long recovery at home; six months later, she discovered a cancerous lump in her breast and underwent a full mastectomy; a hysterectomy and regular grommet replacement operations followed, as well as more facial surgery and reconstructive plastic surgery. By November 2018, following some radiotherapy and what they hoped was a full recovery, Gary and Carolyn were hopeful and holidayed in Dubai; they talked positively about their future, but by February 2019 the tumours had returned.

Gary was advised by medical staff at the Royal Marsden Hospital to engage with Princess Alice Hospice about a care plan for Carolyn at home; he was later introduced to Zulfika, a counsellor, who he found ‘a delight, very easy to talk to and who put me totally at ease.’ Gary found he could talk about the pressures on him without any guilt.

Carolyn’s new grandson, Rory, was born on 22 December 2019 and she spent Christmas with her family, before telling Gary on Boxing Day, ‘I want to die now.’ Carolyn was admitted to Princess Alice in mid-January this year and was met by nurse Sarah, who ‘was delightful, she treated Carolyn like a Goddess and had her eating out of her hand.’ In Carolyn’s own words, ‘this place is amazing, everything is perfect.’ After three weeks Carolyn was able to return home and the family was visited by the ‘absolutely brilliant’ Hospice at Home team; Carolyn told Gary the nurses seemed like friends, ‘they get me.’

Three weeks later it was clear that Carolyn was nearing end of life and she asked to go back to Princess Alice, as she wanted to die there. Carolyn died a week later on 3rd March this year.

Gary now plans to retire early from a successful career, saying ‘I would like to fundraise for the Hospice more than I want to work now.’ The poignant tribute page established by him is raising vital funds; a week of care costs approximately £4,000 for each patient, so Gary’s goal is to raise £16,000. The tribute page contains photographs and wonderful anecdotes about Carolyn, a perfect way of keeping her memory alive forever. In the words of one contributor, ‘she was a towering figure in my life…so much positivity and joy come to mind when I think of her’.

Gary plans to fundraise further and has been inspired to become a volunteer Ambassador for the Hospice. In his own words, ‘the great thing about Princess Alice is that don’t just offer care, they really care.’


Myra, Wellbeing Centre participant

Myra is one of our Wellbeing Centre patients. When the lockdown started, she initially thought we wouldn’t be able to see each other until it finished. But with joy she participates in our Zoom sessions every week. She was really keen to share her experience so far with us.

I really don’t know what I would have done without the Zoom sessions.

The Discussion group is very interesting, but you also have a laugh, we talk about everything going on around us and how we are feeling, it is so good seeing everyone face to face, I get a lot of enjoyment out of it.

The art session is so much fun, we all do something on the subject chosen it doesn’t matter how good or bad you are, drawing, painting, decoupage, knitting, crochet. Anything goes.

The chair exercises are such a help, doing them with other people helps a lot. There are some I can’t do, but it doesn’t matter as adjustments are made for each person as needed. I always feel good and have more energy after each session.

“OH BOY” – the relaxation session gives you techniques you can use at home when feeling down or upset, I have fallen asleep during the session, after I feel light and so relaxed. I use them at night when it is hard to turn my brain off. I always feel happy and so relaxed at the end of each session.

Everyone is so friendly in whatever session you are in.

I look forward to each session every week.


Dina, in the news

Did you see BBC Newsnight’s short film about our work when it aired back in April?

Following an afternoon of socially distanced filming by the production team, the film featured interviews with members of our team and shone a light on how coronavirus had changed the way we were able to deliver care to patients and their families. One of our patients, Dina, talked about her experiences of being coronavirus-positive. After the film aired, Dina continued to stay under our care at the Hospice; after five weeks, you can imagine our joy when we knew she had recovered from the virus and was well enough to return home to her family.

You can watch the full BBC Newsnight interview here and also Dina leaving the Hospice here.

To support us by making a donation click here.

Supporting frail, elderly people to complete Advance Care Plans with volunteers

Providing Advance Care Planning support to our Hospice Outpatient Clinics

Princess Alice Nurse Consultant, Angie Redpath referred an elderly gentleman from her Teddington Outpatient Clinic to our volunteer Advance Care Planning (ACP) service.

“I met the patient and his wife three times in Out Patients Clinic (OPC); initially he had been reluctant to discuss ACP.  As I got to know him better I became aware he was anxious about discussing his end of life wishes with his wife and realised he very much wanted to die at home.  I was able to discuss the clinical aspects of his care but I felt the ACP volunteer would be able to spend more time with him and his wife exploring some of the other issues.”

Our ACP Volunteer Coordinator proceeded to match the patient with Planning Ahead Volunteer Judy Barnett. Judy called and arranged a convenient time to meet the patient and his wife in their home.

During her first visit Judy took time to get to know the couple, gaining an understanding of their circumstances and family situation. She introduced the couple to the ACP document used by the Hospice, explaining that it was the patient’s document to keep and complete, recording his wishes and preferences for his future care. Judy clarified that she would be there to support them through the process and direct them to any further sources of support and information they may need. She spent over an hour with the couple and agreed to call them the following week to see if they would like her to visit again.

Judy made one further visit during which she saw that the couple had given a lot of thought to the process and started to fill in the ACP document. On this occasion she took the opportunity to talk to them about the online NHS system called Coordinate My Care (CMC)*. CMC is an online record of an individual’s care plan – containing important information about an individual’s health, treatment preferences, next of kin and so on – this information is then shared with all health professionals involved in an individual’s care, including 111, the ambulance paramedics and Emergency Department staff. Judy supported the patient to set up his own record on a system called MyCMC which is the online CMC record that can be created by the patient themselves. They were then able to input their personal details and information from their ACP document into the online record.

The next time Angie met with the patient at the Outpatient clinic, she was able to view the information the patient had created via MyCMC and input further information regarding the patient’s clinical choices.


For Angie, being able to refer patients from her outpatient clinics to the volunteer ACP service, means that she is able to focus her ACP conversations on the clinical decisions. She feels reassured that people are being supported in the community and given the time to understand and reflect on the wider options and choices around their care. It is also really useful to have these recorded and shared via MyCMC.

“The ACP volunteer service provides the patient and carer with an opportunity to explore their thoughts and wishes for the future. With increasing demands on the clinical services, it is reassuring to know patients can spend time with the volunteer to consider their options and feel in control of their future.”

Judy felt that her visits had prompted conversations between the couple that might not otherwise have happened.

“They both said they had found the conversations very helpful – although they had started to think about the patient’s late life preferences and possible arrangements before we met, our meetings had enabled them both to feel more confident and willing to discuss things in more depth with each other, and also to write them down, and complete MyCMC.”

If you would like to know more about out ACP Volunteer service please contact the Volunteer Coordinator, Jo Bolton at

*CMC is currently only available to all London based patients.

Nick Garrett – Hospice care at home

For Nick Garrett and his family, their experience of Princess Alice Hospice care was brief but profound.

His wife Carol’s illness was diagnosed just one year before she died – a year which saw her embark on treatment for ovarian cancer from two hospitals in a bid to extend her life.

Once it became clear that Carol’s condition was not going to improve and she needed symptom control above all, the question arose of where would be the best place for her.

By the end of January 2019 the family knew they had to think about the inevitable.

“She wanted to feel safe, to feel she was being cared for,” said Nick. “Leaving a hospital setting was a worrying prospect for her. The set-up is geared towards managing your needs and functions at any time of day or night.

“Given the choice of Hospice or home – she didn’t want to say. We felt it would be better for her here at home, even though her Dad died here, and the house had been specially extended to create the space for her to do her quilting.

“It seemed the right thing, to bring her home, and I’m very glad we did,” he said.

“She was able to make the most of the time she had; Princess Alice Hospice co-ordinated her care and the service was fantastic.

“The Hospice At Home community nurses were absolutely lovely. The Hospice nurses who came overnight were just great. When you need to call someone out in the middle of the night, even an hour’s wait can seem too long – so it was marvellous to have a nurse staying overnight, even just a few times.

“Also, I was able to be with Carol at home. When the overnight nurses came, it was comforting to know there was someone there to help; my daughter also found it made a difference knowing her Mum – and I – were in such good hands. It enabled all of us to relax a bit.”

Carol was at the heart of her family when she died aged 64 in early March last year.

Keeping close ties with their son, Andrew and daughter Claire bring Nick the bonus of enjoying watching his grandchildren grow up; both his offspring have two young children each – all aged four and under.

Visits to Texas to see Andrew, and with Claire and her family nearby mean Nick is having an active retirement following a successful career in engineering.

A keen Rotary club member – he’s President of the Bookham and Horsley branch –  Nick has motivated his fellow Rotarians to raise funds for the Hospice night nurses and brought in a £1,000 donation just before Christmas.

The club is currently organising a fundraising light opera gala evening – A Touch of Glyndebourne – in May.

Nick also has plans to help spread the word about the Princess Alice Hospice charity – by volunteering as a Hospice Ambassador, attending events and giving talks about the outstanding levels of care given freely to those in need.

To support the Hospice’s care Through The Night appeal, visit


Alison Jesson – author’s story

While many people have an interest in their ancestors – and some delve deeply into tracing forebears and family trees – it’s something else to create vivid life stories from the records, papers and memories left behind by previous generations.

Alison Jesson has done this twice – telling her father’s story, and that of her maternal grandmother, in two novels which have received enthusiastic reviews.

All the while she has been a cancer patient – now under the care of Princess Alice Hospice At Home.

Diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004, Alison had treatment and reconstructive surgery before the cancer returned in 2013, this time in her spine and pelvis. She’s receiving palliative care at home in Dorking, where she has lived for 28 years with her husband of 30 years, Mark.

Now she gets regular visits from Hospice nurse Karen Smith, whom she describes as “lovely” – and who also takes time to focus on Mark’s welfare as well, which the couple appreciate as they both feel they are treated as individuals.

Alison’s father John Garrett’s time as a WW2 prisoner of war in is told in The Mind’s Garden; her grandmother’s story of life as a missionary midwife in 1900s Peru is told in Holding The Threads.

Alison, 65, was inspired to write her Dad’s story while transcribing his war diaries, which now reside at the Imperial War Museum.

She found that the diaries – and letters between him and his mother, who was living in wartime England – evoked much more that the records and official papers she had been researching for the family history.

The novel follows his life as one of 400 men held in a propaganda camp in Korea which the Japanese set up in order to convince the West they were treating their prisoners well.

The story tells of his life as camp doctor, including his love of poetry, camp schooling in architecture and his guilt at having a better wartime experience than thousands of his fellow PoWs.

Her other novel, Holding The Threads, has been glowingly reviewed by readers.

Her grandmother and grandfather left the UK in 1904 to work in Peru as missionaries; he as a preacher, she as a midwife, in conditions which almost defy description. Alison brings to life the atmosphere, deprivation and danger inherent in an early 20th century rural Andes town, and the young family’s life there and into the middle of the 1950s in the UK.

Its Amazon website description – “a vivid memoir which explores how the richness of our lives depends on the quality of our relationships” is particularly appropriate, given Alison’s deep interest in the connections between people across generations.

Her own story includes an early career as a cardiac nurse at St George’s Hospital, followed by a period training and practising as a counsellor/psychotherapist – for cardiac patients, then staff, until she moved into private practice as a psychotherapist.

Her psychotherapy specialisation was transactional analysis – how we develop and treat ourselves, how we relate and communicate with others and how we can change and grow.

When she wrote her father’s story, she imbued him with her own philosophy: Explore, Experience, Create, Connect – which enabled her to develop his character in a sympathetic way and round out the detail.

She is frequently asked to give talks on family history – both her own, which she’s pleased to have researched so well – and for others to learn how to make their own connections.

“It’s the anecdotes that bring family stories alive,” she said. “I encourage people to start writing their memoirs for others to read; parents and grandparents, brothers and sisters, for their children.”

Pragmatic by nature, Alison is making the most of what she knows is limited time in which to leave a legacy of memories.

She has achieved a number of “bucket list” goals including travelling far and wide, to the Niagara Falls, Vesuvius, Pompei and Alhambra; heard Mozart’s Requiem in Vienna and the Monteverdi Vespers in Versailles.

She’s found herself glass-blowing, silversmithing and water colour painting – which she continues to enjoy.

“Even little things like a family beach barbecue have been immensely enjoyable, making memories,” she said. “I’ve really had a good time!”

One permanent reminder of Alison – which she and her husband have already ensured is in place for all to see – is a memorial picnic table in Norbury Wood – inscribed Explore, Experience, Create, Connect”.


>>>>> Unable to continue marketing her book Holding The Threads, Alison has donated the last 40 copies to the Princess Alice Hospice, where they can be bought  for a donation to the Hospice. They are also on sale at the Hospice Christmas gift fair on 26 November, open 4pm.

Amazon reviews:

  • From the first page l found ‘Holding the Threads’ a highly engaging and enjoyable book that was difficult to put down. l particularly enjoyed the amazingly vivid, colourful descriptions of life in Peru. l highly recommend this well-written moving memoir
  • Just finished reading this book which grabbed me from the first page. I loved the descriptions of Peru and of life for missionaries at the turn of the 20th
  • This delightfully easy to read but well researched book is a wonderful true story of a young couple embarking on their married life on a new continent and setting up home in Peru. A good read indeed.

Alison’s story

Alison and Stuart were childhood sweethearts who moved to London from a small village in the north east of Scotland in 1982. They intended to stay for two years, but Alison is still here. Being away from all her family made Stuart’s diagnosis all the more difficult. Stuart was diagnosed with malignant melanoma, which started as a small mole on his leg, in 2001. Over the next 18 months the cancer spread and by Christmas 2002, he was unable to walk. The cancer had also spread to other areas in his body, including his brain, changing his personality.
“Stuart became very angry at being unwell and decided not to tell his family in Scotland the full extent of the cancer. They knew he was ill, but were unaware of how ill he really was, which put incredible pressure on me, but I knew it was Stuarts way of coping.

Whilst I could do whatever I could to help in a practical way, I felt I couldn’t help him with his emotions. I was also feeling overwhelmed and worried about our two sons, Iain and Alex who were only nine and 12 at the time. After having to call an ambulance on 27th December just to get him in to bed, Stuart was referred to the Hospice. An appointment with his consultant at St Georges Hospital on January 3rd 2003, told us both that Stuart had already lived for nine months longer than was expected, so we actually left that meeting in quite good spirits knowing that we’d had more time together. Stuart was still very angry though, the Chaplaincy Team at the Hospice visited him regularly and with all the positivity of the staff he came into contact with, they helped him to lose his fear and accept what was happening, he then became peaceful and content. ‘The boys began to spend a lot of time at the Hospice and were always welcomed and chatted to by staff and volunteers. They never felt scared and when Stuart died on 14th January, the boys were supported by the Bereavement Team who helped them enormously.

They wouldn’t talk to me for fear of upsetting me and I knew they were keeping it to themselves, so the support they received was invaluable. In the years that followed, I went back to work, but my youngest son Iain really struggled, thinking his mum wasn’t coming home every day. I called the Hospice to see if they could point me in the right direction in terms of some help for him and before I knew it, the very same bereavement counsellor was on my doorstep. I couldn’t quite believe that after two years, the Hospice would still support us. They never abandoned us. What they did for us was above and beyond what I would have expected. I knew then that I would do something for the Hospice, but I didn’t know what or when.

Then in December 2018, a neighbour of mine was admitted and I came to the Hospice to visit. I felt then that I could come back and offer my help in return for all the help the Hospice gave me and my boys and so I applied to be a volunteer and was accepted. Now I am an Ambassador and Community Fundraiser and get involved in all sorts of volunteering ranging from organising collecting tins for local shops and GP surgeries to speaking to children at local schools about the Hospice and the care it provides. I never know what I am going to be asked to do and I really like that. When I was working in London, I was part of a large team and I am now part of the Hospice team. I enjoy it so much.”

Adam, Pippa, Ethan and Imogen

Pippa died in December 2017, leaving husband Adam, Ethan (now 11) and Imogen (now 9). Here Adam tells their story.

I met Pippa in 2003 in Morocco. By the time the holiday ended, we were chatting away non-stop. It was pretty much love at first sight. We married three years later.

Pippa loved sport and travelling and was a very caring mum. We had a loving family life. Then, in 2014, Pippa was diagnosed with breast cancer. Over the next year, she had chemo, surgery, radiotherapy, the works. Afterwards, we thought she was fine – and she was for a couple of years. Then, just after Christmas 2016, Pippa started to have pains in her legs. Her consultant gave us terrible news. The cancer had spread. She could have as little as a few weeks left, months at best. It was very, very hard.

Within a week, we were introduced to the team at Princess Alice Hospice. Leo looked after me and the children and Sharon helped Pippa and her parents. They made sure we were all coping, supported us and prepared us for Pippa’s death. First, the Hospice focused on making sure Pippa could stay at home for as long as possible. The Hospice at Home nurses helped with her care and the occupational therapists advised on equipment such as walking aids and wheelchairs, because Pippa lost the use of her legs.

Throughout Pippa’s last year, the support evolved. She was given all she needed, from pain relief to relaxing therapies like reflexology and massage at the Hospice’s Wellbeing Centre. The Hospice provided practical, medical, emotional and spiritual support. It was the cornerstone, the glue that stopped us falling apart.

Leo was there for me and the children every step of the way. He helped us to understand what was happening and build a foundation for the future. We had a year before we lost Pippa and, with the encouragement of the Hospice, we made lots of wonderful memories together. Pippa wrote her life story and together, we made memory boxes with mementoes and photographs. And, although it took a lot of strength, she wrote Ethan and Imogen cards for the funeral and their birthdays. So, every year, until they’re 21, the children will have a birthday card from Mummy to open.

Then, one day, as Christmas was approaching, Pippa said to me “I think it’s time.” I knew she was ready to move into the Hospice, but it hit me very hard. When we got to the Hospice and saw how lovely the rooms are, how welcoming everyone is and the care they provide, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. The responsibility and worry of being a carer disappeared and I could be 100% husband and father again.

Nothing was too much work for the Hospice. They’d allow the children to stay overnight or visit before school, and arranged a family movie night with their favourite food – scampi and chips! The positivity of the place makes you feel more positive, helping you to move through the next stages. Ethan and Imi weren’t afraid to visit – they’d run in with Kibibi our dog to give Pippa a cuddle. When it became clear that Pippa wouldn’t survive until Christmas, the Hospice helped us have an early celebration. We had a tree in Pippa’s room, the children made decorations with Leo and we shared a Christmas dinner together. Right up until the end, Pippa was ordering presents and festive jumpers for us. On the 18th December, Pippa passed away holding my hands. The children chose to be there too, and Leo and Sharon were there to support us. The nurses helped the children pick a bouquet to rest on Pippa’s body. She looked beautiful and peaceful – a positive memory that will stay with them for the rest of their lives.

Since then, we’ve all been regularly to the Dovetail bereavement groups, where we can share our thoughts and feelings with people who have been through the same experience. The children do a lot of creative activities that help them to process their emotions. Any time things are difficult, I know the Hospice is there for us. Without them, we’d have been lost. There would have been more worry, more stress, more confusion. They helped us navigate a horrendous situation and make it as good as it could be.

Help us support families like Adam’s this Christmas by donating to our Facebook fundraiser here.

Sara, Julie and Henry’s story

Sara met her partner, Julie, in 1998, and they went on to have a son, Henry, together. When Henry was only four, Julie was diagnosed with breast cancer and, five years later, in November 2016, Julie died. Since then, Henry has been seeing the Hospice’s Children’s Social Worker Leo, who has taught him some of the tools for dealing with grief and helping him make sense of what’s happened. Sara and Henry hope that sharing their story will help other families with young children at such a life-changing time.

It wasn’t an easy decision but at the time of Julie’s diagnosis, Sara and Julie felt that Henry was too young to understand about cancer, so they chose not to tell him about Julie’s diagnosis. “Everyone was telling us what we should do,” says Sara, “but we didn’t feel it was right to impose all that worry on a young child. We never lied to him or hid anything; we just never talked to him about cancer or the possibility that her illness could be terminal. It was difficult enough for us to get our heads around everything, so dumping all that fear on a child just didn’t seem fair.

“All Julie wanted was to enjoy his childhood and for Henry to enjoy it too – so we were busy getting on with life and making memories. She and Henry wrote lots of stories together, made drawings and they played all the time – she was incredibly funny and creative. About a year after Julie died, and once Henry had a better understanding of all the treatment and health challenges Julie had faced, I asked him whether he would have rather known or not known, and he said ‘not known.’  So that helped me feel we’d done the right thing.”

When the cancer returned in 2013, it was ten days before Sara and Julie were due to get married. Sara says, “Julie had surgery on the Thursday, came out on Friday – still with a drain which we disguised with a scarf – and we dashed down to the wedding venue at Goodwood near Chichester to meet the family for dinner before getting married the following morning. All the family were there and Julie was incredible!”

Both Sara and Henry talk about how strong Julie was. “Life’s never been easy,” says Sara. “Four years of IVF and several miscarriages – Henry was our little miracle. Then with the cancer, Julie went through ten surgical procedures, six different chemo treatments, multiple hospitalisations and two rounds of radiotherapy. She would have tried anything to stay alive.”

It was a battle to get the right treatment and in the right hospital, particularly towards the end of Julie’s life. Sara says: “It felt like a constant fight for treatment; once she had pneumonia which we couldn’t get treated. Then she broke some ribs coughing and the doctors mistook the lesions on her x-ray for evidence that the cancer had spread, which it hadn’t. In her final few months when she was struggling with so many health challenges, we had to beg for her to be admitted to the Royal Marsden Hospital. At the same time I was just trying to hold our life together with a young child when I could barely put one foot in front of the other.”

In the summer of 2016, Julie came home. They had visits from the District Nurse, GP and one of the Hospice’s community doctors; Sara and Julie decided to manage her care at home themselves. The family went on one last holiday to Goodwood and the Isle of Wight, something both Henry and Julie really wanted to do. “Julie still didn’t want Henry to know what was going on,” says Sara, “but he knew. You could see how sad he was, knowing she wasn’t well.”

Right up until the day before she died, Julie continued to work. She wrote communications for Henry’s school, including the headmaster’s blog. “Her willpower was insane,” says Sara. “On that last morning, I got her dressed and on the sofa, and all she wanted was her laptop. She was drifting in and out of consciousness that day but she didn’t stop working. The school’s business manager phoned us on Monday, amazed to find Julie had posted one last blog!”

The one thing Julie wouldn’t talk about was the end of her life. “She just shut down if any of the professionals mentioned it, so it was difficult to make specific arrangements, and that’s left us facing problems now,” says Sara. As part of that, when the Hospice made a follow-up call to her, she asked about help for Henry. “I was having to explain everything to Henry retrospectively and I asked him if he would like to talk to someone. For me, it was having another adult supporting what I was saying. It’s tough being the only adult and it’s good to have someone who understands what we’ve been through. In the absence of my partner, the Hospice has been the partner I’ve needed to shore up that emotional stability and comfort to my very vulnerable child.”

Henry meets with Social Worker Leo, normally at the Hospice, although they have also met at Julie’s memorial bench along the river. Henry says: “I do enjoy seeing Leo and I look forward to it. It’s hard to put into words… Leo’s nice.”

Sara comes in with Henry, which gives her the chance to speak to Leo and to be a part of what they do and talk about.  She’s also spoken to Leo separately about a couple of issues that impact on Henry during this time of such enormous change. She describes what Henry and Leo do together: “They feed the carp in the pond, create things, play Jenga and talk about what’s going on and how Henry is feeling. Leo gives him ideas on how to handle things.  Julie is always going to be missing from his life, there’s no getting away from that, but he can learn to recognise the sad feelings and take appropriate action to prevent them becoming destabilising.”

Sara and Henry have chosen to fundraise for the Hospice as a way to give something back. They got Henry’s whole school involved in the  Bushy Park Santa Run last Christmas and Henry wants to run it again this year. “Henry loved it,” says Sara, “but I might just stand and watch with the dog this year!”

“Ours has been a different experience of coming to the Hospice,” says Sara, “but it’s an incredible resource that we’re very lucky to have.  I understand why Julie avoided engaging with the services here because the word ‘hospice’ has such negative connotations.  I supported her in that decision, but since losing Julie, Henry and I have found Princess Alice Hospice to be an invaluable resource where we’ve found the support to help us put into context what’s happened and to know we’re not the only ones in this awful situation.”

The McAvoy family

John and Ann

When dad of five John McAvoy’s final days approached, his dearest wish was to die at home, surrounded by those who loved him the most.

Thanks to the Princess Alice Hospice At Home service, his final wish was able to be granted without compromising his care or burdening his family.

His son, Fraser, explained: “It was one of the few wishes he had – to end his days in the family home where he had lived, happily married, for almost 40 years – and the home where each of his five children were born and raised.”

Initially the family were unsure about whether John would be able to remain at home with them. When he developed bed sores from being confined to his old bed, his loved ones imagined they had no choice but to see him moved out of his familiar surroundings.

There was help at hand. Fraser said: “It was such a relief when the Hospice sourced Dad a proper hospital bed and arranged for it to be set up in his bedroom. It meant so much to him – and us – knowing that he could stay and pass away with dignity, in a familiar setting.

“The Hospice nurses who visited Dad would always ask him how he was feeling and what he wanted. It gave him the opportunity to speak more openly, something that he might not have done with us, perhaps for fear of seeing the worry in his family’s eyes or upsetting us at knowing the pain and discomfort he was in.

“Instead, the Hospice nurses brought him comfort when it mattered most and meant we could focus on those special, precious last moments with him.”

The family was deeply grateful that the Hospice At Home service is available at any time: “Someone was always at hand, on the end of the phone for us when we had complication with Dad’s morphine drip in the early hours of the morning.

“It brought us a great peace of mind knowing they were available and ready to help, 24 hours a day,” said Fraser.

Not only did the nurses bring the McAvoys peace of mind, the service gave them the space they needed to come to terms with saying goodbye to John.

Fraser recalled: “They patiently guided us as we navigated unfamiliar territory, and their expertise meant that we were able to make informed decisions and put in place the necessary arrangements, such as Dad’s Do Not Resuscitate order, so that when those final moments came, they were calm, they were peaceful.

“We will always be grateful for the work of the Princess Alice Hospice and their Hospice at Home service as it meant we could spend as much time as possible with our Dad in the family home we had all grown up in.

It meant we could be there with him, right up until the very moment he passed, holding his hand. The work of the Hospice is critical and we hope that they can continue to offer other families the support and peace of mind at the toughest of times.”

Fraser and his brother Liam have signed up for no fewer than four marathons in 2019 – raising funds for Princess Alice Hospice by running in London, Edinburgh, Manchester and Belgrade.

John and Fraser

Zoe, Ann, Esme and John

Becca – Night Nurse

“I see the relief on people’s faces when we arrive”

Becca, a former intensive care nurse, is now a night nurse for Princess Alice Hospice. Her job is intense, demanding and very rewarding.

The night nurses provide much more than medical care. Night-time can be frightening when someone is nearing the end of life. Nurses like Becca can make it a little easier, by settling the patient and just being there when needed. That might mean giving them medication, changing a dressing or reassuring them about a symptom that’s worrying them. Or sometimes just sitting with them, so they know they’re not alone. In many cases, they’re granting a patient’s dearest wish – to spend their final hours in the comforting, familiar surroundings of their own home.

“Not long ago, I was called to sit with Jay. During the latter part of the day, he had deteriorated rapidly, and his wife Naina was worn out. She’d injured her back caring for her husband and was extremely concerned about his welfare. The couple’s teenage sons were at home and needing support too.

When I arrived, Jay’s symptoms were quite severe, so I gave him pain relief to settle him and then monitored his medication during the night to ensure he was as comfortable as possible. After talking to the family, I sat in the room next door while they stayed by his bedside. I popped my head around the door regularly, to check everything was ok. At one point, his wife got into bed beside her husband for the last time. Reassured by my presence, she managed to grab an hour’s much-needed sleep.

Although being with patients and their families at such a critical time is a privilege, it can sometimes take its toll emotionally. But making a difference to local people, like Jay and Naina, makes it all worthwhile.”

Following our support to Jay, his family sent this lovely message:

“From the moment Becca stepped into our home I felt a huge sense of relief…I felt I was not alone. Rebecca was kind, gentle, reassuring and very professional. She had an amazing sense of calmness about her and an ability to comfort without being intrusive. For that night, I was able to be Jay’s wife and not his carer. I was able to fall asleep next to him, with my arms wrapped around him, in the knowledge that he was being cared for and was in safe hands with Rebecca watching over him. For that time, I will be forever grateful to her” – Naina

Mark, Kei, Melissa and Kacy

It was love at first sight when Kei and I met. In my eyes, she was perfect. And Melissa and Kacy couldn’t have had a kinder mum. The girls were just 10 and 11 when she sadly died last September from bowel cancer, which she had battled for 6 years. Kei was only 39. When the Royal Marsden told us there was nothing more they could do for Kei, there was no question in our minds that she’d go to Princess Alice Hospice. We knew how kind and caring they were, because her grandfather had been there. At first, the Princess Alice team visited us at home. Then we went to a family fun day to slowly introduce the girls to the Hospice. They felt happy there straight away and still talk about how much they loved the farmyard animals!

I lost my dad when I was 18 and I still remember the cold, clinical smell of the hospital. But Princess Alice Hospice is different. It’s the most amazing place with such a positive vibe. Nobody complains or looks miserable, which is really nice because they’re looking after your loved ones. We still go back there now. It gives me comfort just to sit in the coffee shop on a sunny day. There are beautiful gardens, where we took Kei when she was well enough, and in the Sanctuary you can light a candle, have some quiet time and write down what’s on your mind. Kei’s name is in the Book of Remembrance there. When Kei became really ill, we all got one-to-one counselling. It helped us to come to terms with what was happening. We all now attend the monthly Dovetail bereavement groups. For me, it’s a chance to get things off my chest and be with people who understand. The children learn about their emotions through creative activities.

Recently Melissa and Kacy made a volcano. It helped them to understand that feelings bubble away and sometimes it’s ok to vent them. The Hospice team managed Kei’s pain and supported us all emotionally. Nothing was too much trouble. Even at the end, they helped Kei to find pleasure in little things. They’d organise the baths she loved whenever she wanted and when the hand massage lady came, she’d herd us all out of the room, saying “This is Kei’s time”! I could tell the staff genuinely cared about Kei. There was one lovely night nurse, Lorna, who she really clicked with – they were always laughing together.

The Hospice helped me through the hardest times – like knowing how to tell the girls that Mum wouldn’t be coming home. Kei’s passing was as peaceful as it could be. I was holding her hand and she looked into my eyes as she took her last breath. I’ll never forget how compassionate the nurses were. When the girls came in to say goodbye, there were no machines or tubes, no drama – just Kei looking dignified and calm, with flowers in her hands. It’s not easy managing on my own, but I think Kei would be proud of me. Christmas is always a hard time. Kei was so organised, from the Santa sacks to her famous roast potatoes! This year, I’ll take every day as it comes. We’re looking forward to the Hospice’s Light up a Life service – Melissa and Kacy jumped at the chance to turn on the Christmas lights. It was lovely last year, like being welcomed into a family.

Andy’s family

Andy’s wife Louise was cared for by the Hospice during her illness, and had 3 stays on our ward, as well as receiving care and support while she was at home, at our Day Hospice and also from our Night Nurses.  She died at the Hospice, at the age of 56.

“You felt like the Hospice was taking care of you, and it wasn’t just the patient they were taking care of, it was the family as well”.  One of Andy’s sons had counselling sessions at the Hospice, which really helped.

It was while Louise was attending our Day Hospice that she first heard about our Man Shed. At that point, it hadn’t yet opened, but she liked the sound of it and thought it would be good for Andy and their sons, perhaps helping them to form a connection with the Hospice.  She died the morning of the Shed’s opening, but true to her wishes, Andy started attending a few weeks after she died.

“Coming here a couple of times a week, it makes things easier for me, and it feels like I’m giving back to the Hospice through the Man Shed, because I can come, and I can help other people.  I’ve been through leukaemia myself, and also lost my wife – we’d been married 32 years. So I know various people here have gone through the same thing, and I know how they feel. Some of them are quite a bit older than me but it’s not about the age. You’ve lost a partner, and you need something to carry on.”

Two of of Andy’s sons still join him at the Man Shed, including Chris (pictured).  Andy and son Alexander are also helping our Community Engagement team with various events during the summer.

Andy has found the Man Shed to be so beneficial, he has recently moved from being a ‘shedder’ to becoming a session leader, helping the Hospice to open up the Man Shed to more people.

So he still enjoys not just the contact with other people who have had similar experiences, but also the connection with the Hospice itself – “even now, I still see nurses, and physios and people from the Day Hospice, and even the staff that brought the meals around on the ward still come up and say hello”.


Revd Dr Steve Nolan – Princess Alice Hospice Chaplain

“There’s more to a person than where they worship.”

For Steve Nolan, being a hospice chaplain is very different from being a church minister. “Working as a chaplain is much more about being part of a team of professionals and, of course, it involves spending a lot of time caring for people at the end of their life. People sometimes think chaplains are only interested in a person’s religion, but there’s a lot more to a person than where they worship.”

“We’re there for people of all faiths or no faith.”

As a minister, Steve tended to meet people who were associated with his church and community life. Now he works with people of all sorts of beliefs, some of whom are religious and others who are not. “Together with our team of Chaplaincy Volunteers, we are here for anyone who needs us,” he explains.

“We work on the ward, in the Day Hospice and in the community. I don’t go in with an agenda – I don’t wear a ‘dog collar’. Sometimes people want to talk about things that are important to them, or about dying, or about their beliefs. Other times our conversations may have nothing to do with religion or spirituality, because the person just wants someone to talk to or read to them or perhaps do a crossword with them. We aim to build a relationship with people.”

There are 15 people in the Chaplaincy Team. They include two Buddhists and a Hindu and the Chaplaincy also has a good relationship with the local mosque. “We have a good relationship with the churches, as well as with the local mosque and synagogues.”

Bereavement Cafés and LGBT+

Recently, Steve’s work has involved developing a network of Bereavement Cafés. He works with local groups who want to support bereaved people and trains and supports their volunteers to run the Café once a month. “There are five Cafés up and running and several more in the pipeline. I’d like to see Cafés in different parts of the Hospice area, so that if a person needs some support, it won’t be far away.”

Together with Den Pearce, one of the Buddhist members of the Team, Steve has helped set up a bereavement group for people who identify as LGBT+. “We know that bereavement for people who are LGBT+ can be a difficult experience with its own particular problems.”

“Alun was worried about how things would be towards the end.”

Steve first met Alun after he was admitted to the Hospice. Over the next few weeks they enjoyed several discussions together. In their conversations, Alun seemed to be reviewing his life, talking about his father who had been a minister, his work as director of a local company and his family.

But as they got to know each other better, Alun shared his worries with Steve. “Alun was concerned about how things would be as he came to end of his life and what would come afterwards. I told him that his pain would be managed and that in my experience people usually die peacefully. As for the afterlife, I told him that God loves us and accepts us and that, whatever happens, we will be safe.”

Steve continued to visit Alun and his family. Then, over one weekend, he received a text from Alun’s son saying: “Dad passed away very peacefully at lunchtime today”. He also added “I really believe that you made a huge difference in helping dad accept what was to come and allowing him to slip away so calmly.”

Tariq Hassan

“In the most imperfect situation, Princess Alice Hospice was perfect.”

When Tariq met Bryannie at university, he knew he’d met the woman he was going spend the rest of his life with. But just a few years later, and after successful careers and two beautiful daughters, their happiness was shattered. Still in her early thirties, Bryannie was diagnosed with cancer.

In May 2013 she was admitted to Princess Alice Hospice – but she was determined to beat the illness. “Bryannie didn’t want to talk about end of life. The staff at Princess Alice quickly worked this out and they didn’t persist. Nobody forced anything – they got it just right.”

“I felt privileged to share that moment with her.”

Tariq and Bryannie’s girls were only eight and five. Being able to see their Mum every day and still go to school as normal was very important, so the fact that the Hospice was local really helped. On her last day, Bryannie was sitting up in bed, brushing her girls’ hair as she always did. She was happy and was still talking of going home at some point.

But at 5am the next morning, Tariq received a phone call, telling him to come to the Hospice straight away. “She passed away in my arms. And it didn’t feel traumatic. She looked at peace. She looked beautiful.” Later Tariq went home and brought the girls to the Hospice. “We lay with her for two hours. The nurses suggested we pick some flowers from the garden. No one disturbed us – they knew we just needed to be with her.”

“The support group became an anchor point for us.”

Back at home, Tariq called to see if there was anything he needed to do and was told “No. You do what you need to do – we’re here.”  And they continued to be there. In the first year Tariq and the girls all had individual counselling. Tariq found going to his younger daughter’s sessions helped him understand how she was feeling. “I remember they filled jars with different coloured sand to represent different emotions.”

Later, the Hospice suggested a support group for children which parents could also come along to. “It was clever because if I’d have thought it was for the parents, I may not have come,” remembers Tariq. “It was challenging sometimes but we were among people who really understood.”



“I genuinely don’t know what I’d have done without them.”

As well as coping with the loss of Bryannie, Tariq also lost his business. But Gill, from the hospice’s Patient and Family Support team, was there to support the family. “The first Christmas, Gill turned up on Christmas Eve with toys for the kids from the hospice. I cried my eyes out with her.”

Today the family are doing well. Tariq is enjoying being a full time father and the girls are thriving at school. “We’re in a good, healthy calm place and a simpler life. A lot of that was helped by the support and kindness of PAH.”


“I used to feel so angry. Now I’ve learnt how to tell people how I’m feeling.”

The loss of a loved one is painful at any age. But young people can find it particularly difficult. They may never have experienced grief before – and they may not know anyone else of their age who has been through it.

12 year old Amelia lost her Granny in June 2016. A few months later she moved to a new school and so as well as dealing with her grief, she was also having to settle in and make friends. Just a few months later in December there was more bad news. Her beloved Grandad, Joe, was diagnosed with cancer.

The two had always been close, and until he fell ill Grandad had driven her to school every day.  Now she worried about losing him too. But often her fear and grief came out as anger because she couldn’t control her feelings or explain them to anyone.

Then Grandad’s Princess Alice Hospice nurse, Tracy, started coming round. When Amelia’s Mum found out that the Hospice could support them as well as Joe, she confided her worries about her daughter. Tracy offered to arrange a meeting for Amelia with one of the Hospice’s specially trained social workers.

“He’s given me techniques to deal with my anger.”

Amelia had never had support sessions before and was expecting a couch and someone in a suit with a clipboard. But Leo, her social worker, soon put her at ease with his calm manner. He was nothing like what she was expecting – he was even wearing jeans!

Together they have talked about how Amelia could channel her feelings and let others know when she’s feeling sad or afraid. One way has been to write down how she’s feeling so that she can see at what times or in which lessons at school she is most likely to get upset. To balance her feelings of sadness, Leo has advised her to spend more time doing things that make her happy like art, drama and music.

One simple technique that Amelia found really helpful is to draw an angry face on her hand every time she feels anger. It makes her aware of how she’s feeling and can also make it easier for her to talk to others about it.

Today Amelia is coping much better. She understands why she feels as she does and has been shown ways to deal with it. She is much happier and can enjoy time spent with Grandad Joe.  In the summer they went along to the Hospice’s Fun Day and had a great time dressing up for pictures in the photo booth – a magical memory she’ll always cherish.

Joe Burchell

“Tracy is more than a friend. She’s part of the family.”

For 87 year old Joe from Shepperton, Christmas 2016 was unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. He had lost his wife, Patricia in June that year and Christmas without her was going to be hard.  Theirs had been a long and happy marriage and they had been proud to receive a telegram from the Queen on their 60th anniversary.

Then just a few weeks before Christmas Joe was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was a terrible blow for him at a time when he was still mourning his wife. At first he stayed at home but as his illness progressed, it was clear he couldn’t cope on his own and he moved in with his daughter Alisa and her family.

After undergoing different types of treatment including radio, chemo and hormone therapy Joe was referred to Princess Alice Hospice for palliative care. It was then that Tracy came into his life.



“You just feel cared for.”

Tracy Meadwell is Joe’s nurse from Princess Alice Hospice. He wasn’t sure what to expect at first but as soon as he met Tracy he knew he and his family were in safe hands. She was friendly and relaxed and answered all their questions honestly.

As well as helping Joe with managing his symptoms and pain control, Tracy was able to offer him other services from the Hospice. He has really benefited from physiotherapy sessions which help him stay mobile and he very much enjoys the free massage sessions which he finds very relaxing.

He was also relieved to see how much support his daughter, Alisa, was getting from Tracy. “She takes a lot of pressure off my daughter,’ he says.

“Being able to call the Hospice was a life saver.”

Tracy comes around every two weeks. But in between visits Joe and his family know they can call Tracy with any questions and concerns. One of these phone calls saved Joe’s life.

He had been suffering a lot of pain but had already taken the maximum dose of tablets. He and Alisa didn’t know what to do next. So they called Tracy. She was away so they spoke to her colleague who knew all about Joe’s case.

She immediately realised that Joe was experiencing spinal compression and told him to go straight to A&E. Thankfully he was treated in time, but without that phone call, Joe could have been left paralysed, or worse.

At first Joe was quite dubious about being cared for by a hospice. But not anymore. He and Tracy have a close and trusting relationship, and although Joe likes to tease Tracy sometimes, when she’s out of the room he confides: “I can’t praise her enough”.

Alisa Gabriel

“Princess Alice Hospice bridged the gap with support, care and love.”

Think of a hospice and what picture comes into your head? A patient in bed being cared for by a nurse? Our work goes way beyond this. Because we’re there for the whole family, giving them all practical and emotional support for as long as we’re needed. And it makes a big difference.

No one agreed more than Joe Burchell and his family – daughter Alisa, son in law Paul and granddaughter Amelia.

Heartbreak at Christmas

In December 2016 Joe was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It came just as the family were preparing to spend their first Christmas without Joe’s wife, Patricia, who had died in the summer after a long illness. The news about Joe was a devastating blow for them all.

Joe moved in with Alisa and her family and Alisa became his main carer as well as being a Mum and holding down a part time job. Although she had helped care for her mother, she didn’t have any experience of caring for someone with cancer.

But then the family were referred to Princess Alice Hospice. At first everyone felt a little dubious, not least of all Joe. Just the word ‘hospice’ conjured up negative images. Until, that is, the family met Tracy.

The expert who became a friend

Tracy Meadwell is one of our team of specialist palliative care nurses who work out in the community, visiting patients in their own homes or in their care home. But she’s not just there for the patient – she’s there to support the whole family.

She gave Alisa practical advice on symptom management and pain control, which really helped to build up her confidence in caring for her father. She was also able to talk Joe through the various tests, treatments and therapies he was going through. Having someone there to explain things and answer questions was very reassuring.

A gateway to others who could help

Tracy quickly picked up on the fact that everyone in the family was suffering in some way. As a Princess Alice nurse, she was able to tell them about other hospice services which could help them.

Alisa and daughter Amelia were finding it particularly hard to cope with feelings of sadness and grief. They had already suffered one bereavement when Patricia died and Joe’s diagnosis had added to their pain and grief.

So Tracy referred both of them to Princess Alice Hospice counsellors. They are specialists in helping people deal with the difficult emotions around terminal illness and loss. Thanks to the help they got, Alisa and Amelia learnt better ways to cope with their feelings and carry on their normal lives at home, work and school.

“It’s like being part of a family”

The family were also surprised to learn that the Hospice runs a busy calendar of social events from craft clubs to drop-in support groups where they could meet other people in similar situations to theirs. Being able to share experiences can help reassure people and make them feel less isolated.

Far from being a sad place, Joe and his family found our Hospice to be a peaceful and positive place they enjoyed coming to. “People are happy to be here,” says granddaughter Amelia, “They make everything fun.”

One highlight of the year was when Joe and his family came along to our annual Fun Day in the summer. It was a precious opportunity to relax and just enjoy each other’s company. Amelia and Joe particularly liked the special photo booth and have the pictures to prove it!

Someone to rely on

Tracy visited Joe and his family every two weeks. But the family knew they could pick up the phone and talk to her or one of her colleagues at any time.

It meant they didn’t have the worry of wondering who was the right person to call with a problem or a question. “You know that if you phone, she’ll put you on the right track,” says Joe.

No one knows what the future holds but there is one thing Joe and his family could be sure of –  whatever they were going through, they didn’t have to go through it alone. Tracy and the rest of the Princess Alice Hospice team were there to support them for as long as they need them. Which meant they could get on with making the most of their time together as a family.

Des Williamson- Vicar of the United Church of St Mark

“Bereavement Cafés are an important resource – they help us reach more people in need.”

As the Area Dean for Epsom, Des Williamson is responsible for overseeing 15 churches in our area. For some time, he and his colleagues had been keen to offer more support to bereaved families after a funeral. So when he was approached by Steve Nolan, chaplain at Princess Alice Hospice, with the idea of opening Bereavement Cafés in local churches, he was happy to help.

 “We contacted churches in the area to see who wanted to be involved. As a result, we set up two Bereavement Cafés in churches and another in an existing café was started and run by Age Concern/Staywell. Princess Alice Hospice helped train up our volunteers and gave us great resource material to use. ”

“It’s important to meet people in the same boat.”

At St Mark’s, the Cafés are open on Saturday mornings. Everyone is welcomed on arrival with a cup of tea or coffee and offered a seat next to a volunteer. For the first half hour, people enjoy chatting informally and then the group session starts. To make it easier, the volunteers use cards with words or sentences to discuss topics such as ‘loss’ or ‘money’ or ‘people avoid me’.  “No one is forced to talk,“ says Des “You can pass on a card and just listen if you’re uncomfortable talking.”

“People find coming to the Cafés socially enriching.”

But it’s not all about talking about difficult feelings. The Bereavement Cafés also help tackle the loneliness and social isolation that many bereaved people experience. “One man who comes to the Café lost his wife 18 months ago. Most of his social life had been with his wife and when he lost her, he stopped going out.”

Many people find they make good friends at the Café. One volunteer decided to arrange social meet-ups, so members could get together more often. She has also reached out to other lonely people in the community who don’t attend the Café, giving even more people the chance to enjoy regular company.

“We couldn’t do this without our volunteers.’

Des is full of praise for the volunteers who run the Cafés. “Nearly all our volunteers have been bereaved themselves. It’s so important for the people who come to the Café to be able to share their feelings with others who have been through it. I’d like to thank all our volunteers – they give so much of themselves. That’s what makes the Café such a safe and caring place for people to come at this painful time in their lives.”

Suzanne Turner – Nurse

“Leaving this world is just as important as coming into it.”

Last May Suzanne was spending most of her time at her husband’s bedside at Princess Alice Hospice. Little did she think that just a few months later she would be working as a nurse here.

Hers is an unusual experience and it means she’s in a good position to talk about the Hospice “from both sides of the fence.”

“From the point we were referred to the Hospice, we felt supported.”

Suzanne’s husband, Chris, was in hospital when he was told that his cancer was terminal. Although he was getting help with pain relief, he and his family needed more support. Fortunately, they were referred to Princess Alice Hospice. “They were so good,” recalls Suzanne, “Chris came home on Saturday and on Monday a nurse and a doctor from the Hospice came to see us.” They were able to help with pain control and a swelling in Chris’s leg. Realising that Suzanne needed support too, they arranged for a social worker to give her emotional support. “I was caring for Chris, working, looking after two children and all the while worrying about the future.”

“Chris had a positive death – and that’s helped us all.”

Chris decided that, for his children’s sakes, he didn’t want to die at home. So it was a great relief when he was given a place at the Hospice. “We were able to be with Chris whenever we wanted,“ says Suzanne. “As a former nurse myself, I was allowed to do some of the care for him. We were both grateful for that – it wouldn’t have happened in a hospital. Most importantly, we were able to be there when he passed away, so he wasn’t on his own.”

“Now I want to help others by training as a palliative care nurse.”

Seeing the care that Chris received at the Hospice inspired Suzanne to come back to nursing and to specialise in end of life care. Just a few months after he passed away, she found herself back with us, this time on a training placement. She found it a little strange at first to be ‘on the other side’, but she soon felt at home. “It was my place of work, rather than the place my husband died.”

“What I love about this work is that you treat the person, not just the illness,“ she says, “and here at the Hospice you have time to talk with patients. People who are dying often worry about how their family will cope. I’m able to tell them from first-hand experience that they’ll be well supported by the Hospice.”

Den – Buddhist chaplaincy volunteer and facilitator of LGBT bereavement group

“We are just there for people in that moment.”

Our Hospice chaplaincy often surprises people. Many people expect it to be a mini version of their local Church of England. But our chaplaincy is different – it’s there for people of all faiths or no faith. And it isn’t just a place – the chaplaincy is  a group of people who offer compassionate support to patients, families and carers. They work at the bedside, in the coffee shop, in patients’ homes – wherever they are needed.

“I’m not there to counsel. I’m there to support and listen non-judgementally.”

Den is a practising Buddhist and, for the last four years, a volunteer with our chaplaincy service. “I work on the wards mainly. I tend to spend more time with families than patients, because they are often too poorly to talk. My job is not to counsel people, but simply to be there with them when they need it.”

Den has found that although it’s quite rare to meet a Buddhist patient or family, being a Buddhist makes him accessible to everyone. “I think that some people worry that the chaplaincy will try to ‘convert’ or ‘recruit’ them. That’s not what we’re about at all. But somehow when they realise I’m a Buddhist, that worry seems to disappear.”

On occasions Den has also been asked to be with someone in their final moments. “Although the patient is unconscious, I think it makes a difference. It just feels right. No one should die on their own.”

“It’s important for everyone to feel safe and accepted at the Hospice.”

Den also facilitates an LGBT bereavement support group at the Hospice. “Support groups can really help some people,” he says, “but going to a general group can be difficult for LGBT people. Just talking about your partner, for example, means you have to come out in front of a group of strangers.”

He is hoping that the group will flourish and would encourage any LGBT people who are living with bereavement to come along and see if it’s helpful for them. “The Hospice is a very safe and welcoming place anyway. But LGBT people may find it reassuring to know there is a group here just for them.”

“I feel very appreciated and supported at Princess Alice Hospice”

Like most of our volunteers, Den loves working for Princess Alice. “I feel appreciated and really well supported. Steve, the chaplain, is always there to talk to if I need him. Everyone here is so friendly and I feel completely accepted by everyone.”