Back at my desk, I start by contacting the patient who wants to get married. His name is Al. Al tells me that he has been with his partner for 25 years, and that they’d always talked about getting married, but never gotten around to it. With time now running out, he is keen to do it quickly. Al isn’t well enough to get to a wedding venue, so it will need to be done at home. I give him some options: we can very quickly arrange an informal blessing of their relationship, which can look and feel like a wedding, but isn’t legally binding. Or we can arrange a legal wedding with the registry office, but this will take a bit longer to organise. Al is keen for it to be legally binding. I explain that there is a notice period for booking a wedding in, and that if he wants to bypass that, he will need a letter from his doctor to confirm his prognosis. I offer to speak to his doctor to get the letter while he calls the registry office, and say that we’ll touch base again later in the day.

At about 10.30, I head over to the ward. I need to speak to Al’s doctor to get that letter, and I need to visit the two patients that were mentioned in the morning meeting. I pop my head into the medical team office, and I am lucky – Al’s doctor is at her desk. I explain the situation to her, and she is happy to help. I give her a template to fill in and sign, and say I’ll pick it up later in the day.

I haven’t yet met either of the patients who were referred to me in the handover meeting. Because it’s my first time meeting them, I’ll complete a spiritual care assessment for them both. The spiritual care assessment is an evidence-based tool I use at the hospice to highlight a patient’s spiritual needs, and to create a plan for how best to meet those needs. The first patient I go to see is the Roman Catholic patient. Her name is Sue. We talk for a while, and during our conversation Sue tells me about her family. Her husband died a few years ago, and she is worried about her children, Mark and Jess. Sue is a keen gardener and misses her garden at home. She is worried about the state of the world, and what kind of world her grandchildren will grow up in. Sue says that talking helps, so I make a note to ask our volunteer visitors to check in on her regularly. We have a volunteer on the ward just about every day of the week, so Sue will have plenty of opportunities to talk. I ask about Sue’s faith. She grew up going to a Catholic church, but stopped going when she had children. Life got in the way. As she faces her own mortality, Sue would like to reconnect with her childhood faith, but doesn’t really know where to begin. I tell Sue that I’m not a Catholic myself, but that I can arrange for a visit from a Catholic priest if she’d like one. She said she would, so I tell her I’ll arrange it. I thank her for her time and move on to the other patient that came up in the handover meeting.

Then its lunchtime! Scampi and chips are what’s the on the menu today. I sit with some colleagues at a table by the pond and enjoy the sunshine.

One of the chaplaincy volunteers arrived on the ward while I was having my lunch, so after I’ve eaten, I go to say hi and make sure he’s alright. When I find him, he’s deep in conversation with a patient, so I just give him a wave through the door and leave him to it. I pop in to let Sue know that the priest will see her tomorrow, then head off to a patient to visit in Clacton.

At 2pm, I arrive to see Maribel at home. I’ve met Maribel a few times. She isn’t particularly religious, but she believes that there’s “something out there”. She doesn’t really want to talk about that today though. Today Maribel wants to talk about her dog, Buster. For the past few years, Maribel has lived alone with Buster. Her family all live overseas, so Buster is one of the most important things in Maribel’s life. She is concerned that, as her health deteriorates, she is going to be less able to look after him, and is terrified of him being taken away from her. She becomes teary as she speaks. I ask if she’s considered getting some help to look after him, from friends and neighbours. She tells me that she doesn’t like asking for help (this has come up often in our conversations). I gently encourage her to challenge that voice in herself. Asking for help might be the best thing for Buster! She accepts this, and accepts that her pride is not helpful here. But she stops short of committing to asking for help. This is something we will speak about again, I’m sure!

At about 3.30pm, I get back to my desk, and I use the last half-hour of my day to write my notes up. I type up my conversations with Maribel, Tom and Sue. As I’m writing up my conversation with Al, I remember the letter. I pop down to the medical team office to pick it up. Al’s doctor isn’t there, but the letter is, signed and ready to go. I call Al back, and he tells me that he managed to get hold of the registrar, and has an appointment booked to speak to them. I tell him I have his letter for him and that I’ll put it through his door on my way home. There will be much more to plan with Al and his partner, but we’ve got past the first hurdle. I make a note to give Al a ring in a few days to see how they’re getting on with the planning, and what help they need.

Then at 4pm, I shut my computer down, switch my phone off, and head home.

This story and images may not be reproduced without express permission from St Helena Hospice.