Critical Care - Personal Experience of Caring For a Terminally Ill Relative

My mother-in-law died recently. Her illness - a gradual, wasting decline - had been going on for months; she'd been taken into York hospital some weeks ago and it was tacitly accepted by all the family that she wouldn't be coming out. However, towards the end of her life we received a phone call that was to have a profound impact on us.

Doris's last wish, we were told, was to die at home. She would need 24 hour nursing which the NHS could not provide. Could family provide it? My husband consulted his brother and sister. Clearly this was too much to ask - all had work and family commitments, were untrained and unprepared for caring for a terminally ill person, were already exhausted and emotionally drained from weeks of hospital visits. There was no alternative - she would have to die in hospital. It was sad - tragic even - but what could be done?

Me and my husband sat up late that night and talked about it. We had just started a new business...if one of us was to up and leave it would jeopardise all our investment and hard work. We also had young children, and I had a radio interview coming up that I needed time to prepare for. It was absolutely impossible that my husband should leave now and be gone goodness knows how long! Besides, what about the strain on him, the isolation, the stress, the emotional fall-out? But we kept coming back to the question: 'How much should one be prepared to give back to a parent, who loved us, and gave us life, and was now dying and in need?' The next morning my husband packed his overnight bag, telephoned the hospital to arrange for his mother to be transported home, and set off on the long drive to York.

He telephoned me that night from Doris's flat. I'd expected him to be miserable but instead he was euphoric. His brother and sister, inspired (perhaps also a little shamed) by my husband's act had had a change of heart and were there to meet him. 'We're doing this together', he told me. 'They say they're going to support me. We'll look after Mum in shifts.'

The vigil lasted a week. In that time, my husband was rarely alone. Not just immediate family but distant relatives, friends, neighbours, lent their support. The NHS too, from saying originally that they could provide no care, suddenly found there were nurses available to provide occasional night cover. We wondered what the problem had been, why so many people (ourselves included) had thought the task of care insurmountable. I was struck and moved, that it had taken just one man - my husband - standing up and saying: 'I can, I will try!' to set a ball rolling, to change the hearts and minds of others.

Doris passed away peacefully at home. My husband says she was aware of him to the end, and the last words he spoke to her, in the final five minutes of her life were: 'I love you Mum and I know you love me.' If he had not made the effort to be there, these words would never have been spoken or heard.

What had seemed an impossible task proved to be not so. A single act had a far-reaching effect. In my role as a health and weight-management counsellor, these are messages I try to get across to people. Yes, it is always worth trying. Small actions have a knock-on effect. Ordinary people can be inspirational - I see it every day. My message to you is that effort, even of the smallest kind, always has rewards. Do not think about acting but act . After all, life is too short not to.