Stephanie’s Story

It absolutely broke me when Shay was diagnosed with stage four bowel cancer and for three years, we were in hospital more than we were out of it.

But when we came to the hospice, from day one we knew we were in the right place. The staff there are simply unbelievable and did everything they could to give Shay the comfort and dignity he needed and deserved.

Nurses like Maeve, who treated Shay, and all our family, with such compassion. Amazing, caring doctors like our gentle giant, Doctor Higgins, and Steph, one of the wonderful cleaning ladies who became such a great friend to us both.

When you’re scared and exhausted, these things matter. And I always swore I would do everything I could to support the hospice for the incredible care they gave us.

I want to tell you a little bit about Shay. Because I’d love you to know the kind of man he was. In my own way, I want to light up his memory too.

We met on a blind date when I was just 17, and we were so shy, we were almost afraid to look at each other.

That was 34 years ago, and since then we’ve had two wonderful kids, Graham and Chelsea. Shay was such a humble, capable man. He could fix anything. He loved his cycling and would go off racing with his cycling pals every weekend. They went all over the world together and when Shay was ill, that community gave us incredible love and support.

Shay’s diagnosis was life-changing from the very beginning.

The doctor told us he had stage four cancer, and from there, they were simply talking about prolonging Shay’s life. I was in denial, but they were clear from the start.

Shay started treatment straight away and did every chemotherapy the hospital recommended until there was nothing more, they could do. Shay was scared. Because he worried about us – he didn’t want to leave us, and that broke my heart. But we had to stop.

Then we found the incredibly personal medical treatment that you get in a hospice. The comfort, the amazing staff and state-of-the-art facilities provided. And the peace of knowing that absolutely everything that can be done for the person you love, is being done.

I know so many people are going through their own heart-breaking journey. And we all have beautiful people who have died, who we want to remember and celebrate.

I’ve been to Light Up A Life and it is truly such a moving, magical and inspiring way to remember someone special.

Please, will you sponsor a special light this Christmas and join our loving community of celebration and remembering at this year’s Light Up A Life ceremony?

Because for families like ours, hospice care can be absolutely life changing.

I remember Shay’s doctor telling me, ‘Stephanie, you can’t be Shay’s carer anymore. You need to go back to being his wife, to being best friends. That’s what he needs.

You hear stories that hospice is a home from home. I didn’t believe that. But it really is.

We called our hospice room ‘our back garden’. Shay brought his record player, and we listened to his albums there. The nurses even brought in a bed so I could sleep beside him, holding his hand every night.

Because there’s no such thing as visiting hours in hospice.

I still cared for him. That’s just me. Was it hard? Yes. But Shay needed me. And I needed him. Dignity is so important here, and the staff did everything they could to give Shay that.

They gave him a wheelchair too, but he would only use it for pushing his oxygen around!

We went to the chapel one day because he wanted to light a candle, and it felt so emotional seeing him do that.

In a way, he was already lighting up a life.

One Sunday, Shay told us that he knew he was dying. I was so upset, but Maeve explained to me that some patients will sense that and just need to say it. I wasn’t ready for it. But Shay was. And he passed away a few days later on Father’s Day. He was 55.

He was sick for three and a half years. It shouldn’t have been that long, but he was such a strong man. I miss him like crazy, but the love he left keeps me going.

I still talk to him all the time. He wanted to be cremated, and his ashes are scattered up in the mountains where he used to cycle with his mates.

And Graham and Chelsea both got tattoos of a man holding hands with a young child and holding a wheel.

It’s a cycling phrase. During the races, people would shout, ‘Hold the wheel, hold the wheel!”. It means keep going, be your best.

And that’s what I’m asking you to do now.

Will you support Light Up A Life this Christmas? So that we don’t just remember the people special to us, but we also honour and support – in real, practical ways – those in hospice care today.

Light Up A Life is such an amazing, emotional event. Everyone has a story to tell, and every story is as precious as ours. That’s their loved one, that’s their life. And you can feel the love, and the strength. It’s in the air. It’s in the light.

Thank you so much for reading this, and please join me in supporting Light Up A Life. Wishing you and your loved ones a happy, peaceful Christmas.