Kam’s mum, Harbans, was 82 when she passed away last year in our In-Patient Unit. The care and love shown by our teams are what Kam (pictured) remembers most, alongside an openness to embrace whatever Harbans needed as a Sikh in our care.
My mum was born in India, in a village in Punjab called Loharia. Loharia means blacksmith, so that’s our background – we were blacksmiths. My dad’s side were carpenters. When Mum was of age, they got married and the journey started.
They moved from India to Kenya in the 1950s as economic migrants. There were plenty of well-paid jobs for administrators in the country at that time and my father worked in the main branch of Barclays in Nairobi. They loved their life in Kenya, but one day my father was visiting another branch, and it got held up by robbers. Dad had the tip of his finger shot off. That was it. Mum said, ‘No, we’re not staying.’ So we applied to come to the UK in the early 1970s. From sunny Nairobi to Wolverhampton it was, and that’s where I grew up.
“All the way through her life she was very talkative and independent.”
A resilient and stoic personality
One word that best described Mum was defiant. All the way through her life she was very talkative and independent. The challenges of living in three different countries led to a resilient and stoic personality, which was respected in the family.
After recovering from a heart bypass, having an MRSA infection twice and experiencing a stroke, she suffered a second stroke in December 2023. She already had kidney failure, built up over years of diabetes, and as a result was on dialysis at the same time. What we didn’t know until afterwards was that having a stroke while on dialysis is an extremely bad combination. Sadly she went downhill after the stroke and couldn’t recover. Her personality completely changed. She couldn’t sit still and became very agitated.
Revelatory care
“From day one I could see that there are people there – staff and volunteers – who genuinely care.”
Eventually the doctors said there was nothing more they could do. There was an inevitability. When a space came up in the In-Patient Unit at Willen Hospice, everybody we spoke to said, ‘If you get a space at Willen, take it.’ We live in Willen and had contributed to the Hospice for years, but never visited. So this was the first time we’d had any experience of it at all. The care and the people were a revelation; they were just fantastic.
From day one I could see that there are people there – staff and volunteers – who genuinely care. There is a love for just doing things for other people, without expecting to get anything back. The team work really hard, usually 10 or 11 hour shifts.
Making it personal
One of the nurses had obviously looked after Asian patients before. Every time she came to see my mum, she’d say, ‘Hello mama.’ She brought a positivity and playfulness that just radiated to everyone in the room. Every time my mum would see her, she’d give her this big smile, which would cheer everybody up. The nurse said, ‘I love this job, and the smile is why we do it.’ I remember saying to her, ‘There’s a special place in heaven for all of you,’ because it’s just amazing what they do.
Mum had her own room. The nurses saw that she could get to the bathroom herself with a little bit of help so they were able to move her to an en-suite room. They just adapted, which was fantastic. The nurses would be in to check on us all the time. If we needed anything, they’d get it for us.
Family support day and night
“Mum had the best care, but they did their utmost to look after me as well.”
I had made a promise to my dad that someone should be there with each of them when their time came. With the support of all my family, we took turns to be with Mum day and night.
Many times I remember sleeping on the armchair in her room and waking up with a blanket over me. One of the team would have come in, seen that I was staying and ensured I was comfortable too at this critical time. Mum had the best care, but they did their utmost to look after me as well. That’s the point I want to get across is the amount of care and love at the Hospice, from people who don’t even know you.
Visits and prayers
The Hospice arranged for a Sikh priest to visit Mum. Staff were also very open in trying to encourage other people to come who would help and support her. A lady from our community who knew Mum would sit with her and they would recite prayers together; it was really heartwarming.
“Everybody who knew Mum [had] an opportunity to at least see her and say their last goodbyes.”
Although the final moments are difficult, the Hospice never placed any barriers on visitors. The family we have up in Wolverhampton, who Mum had lived with for 50 years, all came. Our local family came. Mum’s grandchildren and great granddaughter came. So everybody was there and never at any point did the Hospice say, ‘No, you can’t come in.’ I will never forget that. Genuinely I won’t, because it gave everybody who knew Mum an opportunity to at least see her and say their last goodbyes. For them, it was part of their journey to letting her go.
Giving selflessly
“We were very, very fortunate that Mum could stay there.”
This was the best experience of care I’ve ever had. I’ve been to private hospitals and they’re great, but although you pay a lot of money, it wasn’t the level of care you get at the Hospice. We were very, very fortunate that Mum could stay there.
I really want to volunteer for the Hospice, because the most valuable thing I can give is time. In Sikhism we have a concept called ‘Sewa/Sevā’. Sewa is giving selflessly without any expectations for yourself. Nothing is more fulfilling, and I believe that sometimes we lose sight of what is important.
