On Wednesday 14th December 2022 Dad was admitted to Aintree University Hospital after becoming suddenly unwell. Symptomatic of a chest infection, he was administered oxygen, antibiotics and pain relief. Although in a critical condition he was in a deep sleep and seemed stable. In the early hours of Thursday morning however, the registrar called and urged us to come in as Dad's situation had deteriorated.  My brother John and his wife Clare rushed across to be with him, my mercy dash down the M6 getting me there for 4am. We were given the usual script about minimal intervention and non-provision of resuscitation should the situation arise, the general advice issued for patients who are very unwell and / or have additional complicating medical factors, such as dementia. Current treatment would, however, be continued. Dad just looked asleep. We were all shattered, physically and emotionally.

Later that morning, following a chat with the consultant which left me with very little hope of Dad recovering, a lady called Julie visited me at my Dad's bedside. She told me she was a palliative care doctor at The Woodlands Hospice, and wondered whether Dad might be more comfortable transferring to her care. Not really with it, I was only partly taking in the information. But I agreed and eventually we were ambulanced across to their care. 

Woodlands Hospice is a charitable Trust within the hospital grounds. Initially set up for local patients living with cancer, it's mission statement reads:

'Woodlands Hospice Charitable Trust is an independent charity committed to delivering the best possible practice and development of Specialist Palliative Care for people with cancer and other life-limiting illnesses with complex needs. It honours people's right to dignity and respect at whatever stage of their illness by its aim to improve the wealth of life for patients and their families.'

Well, mission accomplished, and much more. I cannot begin to express just how amazing the staff  are. Dad could not have been in better care, nor could we. He was treated with the utmost respect and dignity at all times, while receiving the same level of medical treatment he would have, had he remained in the main hospital. Nothing was too much trouble, they spoke to Dad in a gentle, caring manner, answered all our questions, listened to our concerns and offered lots of hot drinks, toast, tissues, and a caring touch. Dad's room had an en-suite shower-room, TV, French windows with an open aspect and a huge reclining armchair. Having rushed down from Cumbria with no real plan, the hospice's facilities enabled me to spend all night by Dad's side.

You know; yet still you carry a little hope. But as I talked to Dad, held his hand, and watched him as he continued to sleep through the night, hope of a miraculous recovery faded. Into Friday morning I continued to talk to him and play him music - Christmas songs and, of course  'You'll Never Walk Alone'.

And all the while Dad slept, and the nursing staff quietly, surreptitiously, professionally came and went, monitoring Dad, administering medication, making Dad comfortable, offering me more hot drinks and just generally caring for me too. 

When, on that Friday morning,  Dad decided he was tired and ready to leave, a nurse was by my side, taking care of me as I said my goodbyes. There was no rush, no officiousness, just time. Plenty of time. Followed by support and guidance. Dad's time at Woodland's Hospice was brief, but it was so important. His final hours could not have been made more comfortable, more dignified or more peaceful. 

We feel very grateful to Woodlands Hospice and wish to support the facility they provide for people like Dad, and their families. If you feel touched by our story and are able to donate any amount at all to this wonderful charity, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If we somehow manage to raise £1000 in the next twelve months,  a metal leaf plaque will be placed on their Tree of Life in Dad's memory. We will continue to support the Trust regardless.

Thank-you so much for reading our page.

Suzanne and John

Night night, sleep tight Dad. YNWA

xxx