Simon’s story

Before the diagnosis

My husband Simon was only 56 years old when he died. He was fun, kind, and dedicated to family and friends. He was also focussed, determined and a ‘triathlete’. We ran, swam and cycled but during lockdown, like many others had to make do with walking only. He was thrilled to be able to give his daughter away at her COVID limited wedding in September, still a joyful day. He was so proud of both his children and how they had grown into constructive, caring adults.

Then in January 2021, in the second year of COVID, he started experiencing some severe pain. Simon didn’t tolerate being ill; there was always paracetamol and ibuprofen at hand before needing any medical intervention but this was so severe that he had to go to A&E at Basingstoke Hospital, where he was admitted.

Coping with illness during Covid

Communication was difficult because Covid meant it wasn’t so easy for the family to see and speak to doctors on the ward. I was exhausted and in shock, trying to manage his treatment, and keep communication channels open for family, despite the lockdown restrictions.

His deterioration was rapid. It took some time to get him to see the right team but when that happened, the scans they had done immediately showed something was very wrong. It was only seven days after Simon arrived at the hospital when we discovered he had caecal cancer. He was given only weeks to live.

Coming to St. Michael’s Hospice

The next day our grown-up children, Chloe and Duncan, rushed to be with Simon. A downfall of snow on Sunday sent my daughter back to her home 2.5 hours away. My son left the evening before, both of them having spent the day with their Dad. They went home to sort things out in preparation for returning to Basingstoke; we were all thinking they had time.

It was Sunday morning and by this time the nurse felt he needed to be admitted to St. Michael’s to have the specialist pain relief he desperately needed.

She found Simon a newly opened bed at the Hospice. The transfer happened more quickly than anticipated and he moved over that lunchtime. Despite the syringe driver they attached and the calmer atmosphere of the Hospice, it was hard to see him continue to be in pain for a while. I had to leave his room, unwilling to let him hear my distress at his condition, and the continuing kindness of the nursing staff led to one of the healthcare assistants asking whether I would like someone to support me.

She rang my friend, a former Macmillan nurse, who knew the Hospice and had been on the journey with me for the previous week. It turned out they had worked together and she arrived soon after. The palliative care doctor warned me he was close to dying. We called the children and Simon was able to have a video call with them to say goodbye.

Being together at the Hospice

The staff found the right mixture to ease his pain, and were kind and gentle, fun and thoughtful as we sat through our night vigil. The night staff were very professional and attuned to his final moments, as I was able to be with him and he died holding my hand.

They tended to my need for announcing his death to the family, and were gentle in allowing space to spend with him in the chapel before the undertakers took his body away. We received their full professional and human attention when we needed it most. I am full of thanks for their attention, humanity, and compassion. It had been only ten days since Simon first entered A&E with severe pain.

Sadly, 8 months later, Chloe, who was just 27, was diagnosed with stomach cancer. She returned to Basingstoke in November for Simon’s memorial but it was only made possible by St. Michael’s: she needed two nurses to come to our home to change her syringe driver or she could not have made the journey. Chloe died this spring.

I am so grateful to everyone at St Michael’s, for all their kindness and professionalism. Thank you.

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