Maria's story

One of the things that has always fascinated me about Grove House is the atmosphere that pervades the place. Everybody always seems so happy there. When I was a patient, I though perhaps it was part of the training. But now I am back there as a volunteer, I've noticed that it's not just the people who are dealing directly with patients, it's everybody - staff, volunteers, patients -  everybody seems to enjoy being there, working there, helping out. What makes people want to be there? Of course, I've got my own ideas about that; why did I go back there as a volunteer? But I though I'd start asking people. And where better to start than with an ex-patient who has devoted countless hours raising both awareness and funds on behalf of Grove House. So here is ...

Maria's story

Maria is an attractive, bubbly, 52-year old, whose cheerful disposition hides a determined streak which has stood her in good stead in her fight against a life-threatening illness. She has been through a lot, and the struggle is still going on.

Twenty years ago, Maria came through a battle with non-Hodgkin lymphoma (a cancer of the lymphatic system). By 2006, having spent the intervening years raising a family and getting on with life, she was waiting to hear the results of some gynaecological tests. In her own words: "In previous checkups the consultant told me that I had cells that were pre-cancerous, but they're fine, and I thought, being a little bit naïve maybe, well, I feel OK, and he's looking after me". When she hadn't been offered a follow-up appointment after these latest tests, she decided to follow it up herself. She remembers laughing and joking about it at work: "No news is good news, that sort of thing".

But it wasn't good news. Her results had been temporarily mislaid. She was offered an emergency appointment, told that things had changed drastically, and that she needed an urgent hysterectomy, which was scheduled for the week after Easter. That operation revealed "a terrible mess", the probability of ovarian cancer, leading to more tests, further surgery, and then six cycles of chemotherapy. She remembers being told that they had probably caught it too late, and that "life expectancy is not going to be that great".

In the middle of all this, her dad was taken into hospital. "We didn't really know what was wrong with him. He hardly spoke any more. He was out of it most of the time. My mum had to tell him that I couldn't visit because I was going in for an operation myself."   Then came another devastating blow. In May, two days before she was due in hospital for a biopsy, her father died.

Maria had already heard about Grove House, although "I didn't really understand what it was all about. I thought it was somewhere that I could just pop along and have a cup of tea and talk to somebody". So that's exactly what she did. "One afternoon I went along with my daughter to Canceri. Chatted to a lovely lady there who told me about the Day Hospice. So I referred myself". After a clinical assessment by Joan Follett, the Day Hospice Manager, Maria was offered a place on a Wednesday. She found the prospect of her first day quite scary. "A driver picked me up, and I really didn't know what was going to happen, who I was going to meet, or how I was going to feel about it. And also, being in that place, it just confirmed that I did actually have cancer, that I wasn't pretending, that I wasn't imagining it".

She remembers feeling almost physically sick, and on the point of asking the driver to stop, so that she could get out and go home (but she was too embarrassed to ask). "So that was my introduction to Grove House. But my opinions just changed. After that, I never really looked back. Every time I went, I looked forward to going, and I was on a high when I came home, because of all the laughs I'd had ... I became great friends with Joan. I call her my guardian angel. All the volunteers there make you feel as if you're the most special person on that day ... When my hair was starting to fall out, I would wear a wig, or a scarf, or a hat, and there were other people in the same situation. We all helped each other out. I met two ladies, who became great friends, and I would help them with how to put a scarf on, or a bit of makeup, and we'd have a good laugh at each other".

I asked Maria what she felt was so special about Grove House. "I think it's understanding, more than anything else, just that expertise and understanding ... I was still there in the November. My dad had died, and I'd lost a lot of things with my dad. I was in a terrible state. Then my aunt died. As soon as I turned up at Grove House they could see there was something wrong. Someone asked me what was the matter and I just burst into tears. But just talking things through helped a lot - I felt so guilty, because I hadn't returned a call my aunt had made to me just before she died. She had an aneurism - she was gone pretty quickly. I spoke to Andrew [Andrew Pattman, the Head of Spiritual Care] and he made me see what I wasn't seeing, that I didn't return her call because I was feeling under pressure. And I was the one who was ill, you know, he just made me see sense. I'd spent days crying about my aunt. With his help, I was able to dry my tears and walk out of there".

Maria went to Grove House on a weekly basis for six months: "and in December I left. I left because I thought someone else would benefit from my place. I also left because I'd started to go back to work, and I thought I needed to move on". But that wasn't the end of Grove House for Maria. One of the things that stood out from her initial assessment was the real anger she felt about her situation: the feeling that maybe the cancer would have been avoided, or less serious, if the question of the "pre-cancerous cells" had been addressed earlier; the frustration of the delay in getting an appointment with the consultant to talk about chemotherapy. For many people, that anger could have become self-destructive, but Maria was able to channel it into a positive, creative energy. She wrote a letter for the fundraising team, which was sent to supporters of the hospice. She made a speech at the annual Snow Ball. She has accompanied staff on visits to organisations, explaining the valuable services that Grove House has to offer people with life-threatening illnesses. She is determined to help others avoid the mistakes and misunderstandings that have cost her so much. Her advice is very simple and straightforward: "If you're worried, go to the doctor. And if any woman was to say to me I've just been told that I've got pre-cancerous cells, I would say, just go back there and get them to get their finger out". There is just a slight catch in her voice that gives a clue as to how deeply she feels about this. "Don't accept this as being normal. Because it's far from normal, you know."

In 2007, Maria came up with the idea of an event that has since proved enormously popular, and has become a regular feature of the Grove House calendar. With the help of volunteers and staff, she organises "Chill-out Sunday", a day when, for a nominal fee, people can come to Grove House and simply let themselves be pampered - facials, massage, manicures, hairdressing, and all sorts of complementary therapies are on offer for a charge which is a fraction of the normal cost. In addition, it gives local practitioners (who offer their time free of charge) the opportunity to introduce their services to the wider public. Such is the popularity of the event that there are now two "Chill-out Sundays". Maria is an inspiring role model, and her story is a great example of how she, and Grove House, have turned a personal disaster into a social triumph.