Jan’s story

A loving sister and friend

Until St Barnabas came on board, I felt so alone. When we were referred to St Barnabas, everything changed.

My sister, Jan, was a loyal friend who never thought twice about helping others. She liked to laugh and when she did, it was infectious. Jan enjoyed good health for most of her life, but in the approach to her 70th birthday she started complaining of pain in her upper abdomen. She lost a lot of weight, and the pain grew more severe. By the time Jan was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the prognosis was not hopeful.

People say you can’t see someone’s pain, but I could. I could almost feel it. Even when she managed to get some rest, it was terrible to think she would wake up the next day and go through it all again.

Image above Left – Jan and her dad. Right – granddaughter Lola and her fundraising efforts

Finding comfort at St Barnabas

Jan initially went into the hospice for pain management, and I followed her carrying her bags. The nurses took her off to her room and I will always remember the words of the lady at reception. She said, “Now you can stop being a carer and be a sister again.” That’s exactly what it felt like – I hadn’t been her sister for weeks and weeks, and I’d missed it so much. Everyone was so loving, and it was good for the whole family, knowing Jan was being looked after so well.

When it was time for her to return home, it was such a comfort to us knowing we could call St Barnabas for advice and support. It was because of that special love and support that we wanted to spend her final days together at the hospice. When they said they had a bed available and Jan could be admitted to the In-Patient Unit, we were overjoyed. We just knew it was the right place for her.

A family’s final days

Once she was admitted, her daughters, Rachael and Rebecca, never left her side. I left the hospice just once – to attend a dance fitness class I’d organised to raise money for St Barnabas. Jan and I both loved dancing. Of course, I was reluctant to leave her and I didn’t even know how I would get through an hour of dancing when I was in such turmoil. But I told her “I will go, and I will dance my heart out for you.”

When I got there, the room was just full of love. One of the first faces I saw was one of the hospice nurses, who we’d only met for the first time the day before. She’d brought her family along to support us as well.

It was the following day that Jan died, in the company of her two girls and me. We all got comfortable on the bed together and played Wind Beneath My Wings, which is significant to our family. We were all holding Jan, and she passed away at the end of the second line.