This Hospice Care Week we want to show you that hospice care is more than you think. Andy, a retired fireman, is the perfect example of this. Although Andy doesn’t need any palliative or end-of-life care from us right now, our Therapeutic and Wellbeing team and Lymphoedema team are supporting him to live well. This means he’s able to keep doing the things he loves, like going on holiday with his wife, Marion.
(Pictured: Andy right, with our Physiotherapist, Emma)
I try to get to exercise group every week. The Hospice’s Physiotherapist, Emma, has assessed each of us and she gives us particular exercises to do, sometimes with equipment. Mine are mostly seated and gentle, and are geared to help me improve my strength and balance. When we’ve got a full complement, there’s three ‘chaps’, as Emma calls them, and five ladies. I think I’m one of the longest serving victims! We all get on quite well and go for cake in the Hospice café afterwards, so it’s a nice supportive group.
I do feel that the exercise sessions help me physically and mentally. We have a form to fill in each time asking, “How do you feel after this session?” Well, a little bit better. In addition to the cancer, I’ve got spinal degeneration, which isn’t going to go away. I think exercise helps me though. It’s like the painkillers. If I don’t take the painkillers, it hurts. If I do take the painkillers, it hurts, but a bit less.
The Hospice do other things too, like reflexology and massage, so it’s the whole package. At the Hospice, they make you feel good. It’s amazing what they do. My life has been – try it, don’t knock it. So I go in with an open mind. The reflexology and the reiki is in some people’s eyes almost ‘mumbo jumbo’. But the reiki is relaxing. The second time I had it, I’d say I was in a trance, which apparently happens to a lot of people.
I was diagnosed with prostate cancer about 10 or 12 years ago. I talked to my doctors about pains here, there and everywhere. After some scans, I was sent to the oncologist at the Milton Keynes Cancer Centre, based at the hospital. And everything went on from there.
Most people don’t like to talk about cancer; I think it embarrasses them. I’ve got to the stage now, where it is what it is. I can talk about it.
My go-to place is a dark sense of humour because I spent 32 years in the fire brigade. My answer to everything is to make it funny. Now with cancer, alright, I don’t say I can make it funny, but I can see the humorous side of it most of the time. And until the oncologist says to me, “Make your preparations”, I just carry on.
I’m not planning on building my box yet. When I met Dr Ben at the hospital, he said, “I’m the palliative care doctor” and I thought I’m not ready for that! He said, “No, no – it’s about pain relief more than seeing you for end-of-life care.” We get on like a house on fire. I see him every six to eight weeks. Dr Ben works at the Hospice too and he asked if I’d be interested in coming along to the exercise classes. Because I’ve got so much discomfort, I said yes straightaway.
I thought the Hospice was a place to come and die. There are a lot of people who would be frightened to even come through the doors of Willen. I knew one person that came here for the last couple of weeks of their life. I’d always avoided that side of it. But myself and the wife and our friends used to come to the Ascot fundraising event every year.
I’ve got to thank Dr Ben again, for spotting my lymphoedema. We were just discussing general things and I told him my legs were more swollen than normal. He had a quick look and a touch, and said he thought I had lymphoedema. I said, “What do we do about that?” Once again, it came out of the blue, “Well, we’ve got a Lymphoedema service at Willen. I’ll send you to see them.” The first appointment with Carly, a Lymphoedema Specialist Nurse, was a longer session with lots of measurements and questions. She ordered compression garments for me and some cream. So I didn’t have to do anything. Then she gave me and my wife instructions on how to put the garments on, how to put the cream on and how to massage. It helps me maintain the swelling.
I’m quite confident that if things change suddenly, I can phone Willen for help. There’ll be somebody on the phone who knows what they’re talking about. Emma always asks me how I am at exercise class. I usually say there’s nothing new – it’s still the same symptoms, but happening more often and a little bit more severe.
I’m being looked after – that’s the thing. Once you’re in the system, it’s great. Because I’ve got relatives who live in other areas, and the experiences they’re having with their GPs, hospitals and the local NHS are pitiful.
Without the Hospice, I think I would have turned into a miserable bugger. Because it would have been a case of, it hurts to do things. With the support of Willen and the Cancer Centre, it’s manageable. The pain’s not gone. It hasn’t got any better, but it’s manageable. And it’s explained to me. I’ve got no worries. That means I can carry on going on holiday with Marion. We’re booked on a cruise to New York later this year, which is something she’s always wanted to do.
I actually look forward to coming to the exercise group and the therapy sessions. They’re on the calendar and if I’ve got to change appointments, they’re the last ones to be changed. So you know, that’s nice. The banter with the girls and the chaps is good. It’s quite relaxing. I can go away from the Hospice feeling better.
