VOLUNTEERING: Sue Campbell whose husband Colin was looked after at the Hospice of St Francis.
When The Gazette started its Dig Deep Campaign for the Hospice of St Francis Sue Campbell of St Albans wanted people to know how important it was that they gave what they could.
Her husband Colin was cared for by the hospice and died there.
Sue, who is training to be a family support volunteer, decided the best way to let people know about the work done at the hospice was to sit down and write about her own experiences.
This is her story:
"THE Hospice of St Francis, is nothing less than a life-saver! An incongruous title? Maybe not!
Whilst no-one upon this earth could have saved my husband's life, St Francis did everything to make his last 10 days on it more bearable than either of us could possibly have hoped, hence they 'saved' 10 days of life, maximising the quality beyond our wildest dreams at that point.
I'd call that 'life saving' by any other name!
After Colin collapsed he spent two-and-a-half gruelling weeks in a local hospital.
The news that his cancer had become terminal and it was only a matter of weeks was almost diluted into incomprehension by the hideousness of his surroundings, diverting us from processing and absorbing the enormity of it all. All he could focus on was, "don't let me die here". We never blamed any of the staff who all did their best within the confines of a modern hospital environment, but have no spare capacity whatsoever for the little niceties of life like bathing a dying man or offering food that might in some way tempt.
I am delighted and much relieved to announce that we did, indeed, manage not to let him die there.
He did come home. He managed six weeks, mainly in bed, but sometimes enjoying the summer sun in the garden, watching our boys, then aged 11 and 14, messing around with footballs and the like.
I tried to keep things as 'normal' as possible for them, but caring 24/7 for such an ill member of the family takes its toll, and my reserves ran low.
Eventually, his condition deteriorated sufficiently that it became obvious this situation was no longer practical or viable at home.
Reluctantly I accepted the GP's suggestion that we accept the support offered by theHospice of St Francis and off we trundled. 
'MIRACLE WORKER': Hospice chef Chris Took and one of the hospice's many volunteers (Gail Ogden).
He was so poorly he was literally beyond caring and almost unable to speak at all, it was all too much effort, and energy evaded him.
We stayed all day and saw him settled and comfortable. And to my amazement, as I kissed him "cheerio" that evening, he grabbed my arm and whispered, "It's alright, I am happy to die here".
The doctors disclosed a couple of days later that they had, indeed, expected him to die very soon, that very evening in fact. However he was now gaining strength and re-gaining mobility!
Colin was a man with a very healthy appetite, and one of those irritating souls who never put on weight!
So during the final weeks at home my distress was exacerbated by his inability to even eat, let alone enjoy his food.
I tried to produce whatever he fancied; I tried to reproduce his old favourites. All to no avail and characteristically of this disease he started to waste.
Chris, to call him the 'chef at the hospice is to totally understate -he is a miracle worker! Somehow he reached the parts I no longer could, ie Colin's tastebuds! Although he never ate a great deal, he did eat! Each day I'd arrive to Colin describing with relish his dinner the night before and his breakfast that morning!
Our traditional family meal times had, inevitably, broken down while I was caring at home, but at the hospice Chris would produce four different meals for our four different tastes (something I'd never have the capacity to do at home!) and we sat together as a family once more and chatted over a lovely meal - a meal I simply could not have produced after an emotionally exhausting day with him.
Colin's well-being rocketed and we even managed a family trip to the pub! The only family outing during those final two months.
Then things suddenly took a turn for the worse one evening and he peacefully slipped away. We were so lucky, we had the rare privilege of being there, my boys and I; but had we not made it back in time, I have the reassurance of knowing that he would not have died alone nor in discomfort.
I know within my heart that he was indeed at peace and that was something that the hospice alone could provide.
I use the term 'hospice' as a generic collective. It covers the building, the grounds, but most of all the people - every single member of staff including volunteers; they all take such care of you, make you feel so special (as though you're the only family in the unit), they have all the time in the world to devote to you, whether patient or anxious visitor. A truly wonderful and special place.
I feel so strongly that the support my family received was totally invaluable and that I really don't know how I'd have coped without it that now, after a suitable length of recovery time for myself (ably assisted by the support services of both St Francis and Grove House Hospices) I have become a volunteer myself and now joined that 'happy family' from the other side.
I know we were so, so, so lucky to have benefited and just implore all your readers to indeed 'Dig Deep' to support the expansion and continuance of such a worthy service.
It's there for anyone in our society and it would be a tragedy were it not there for everyone who needed it, should the new unit not to come to fruition."
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