Erica’s Story

Erica’s Dad, John Rowell, was cared for at the Inpatient Unit at Arthur Rank Hospice Charity. Erica very kindly shared her story of his care:

“Dad was a proud and independent man. Like many of his generation he set great store in his ability to organise himself and take care of the important things in life – his family, his health and his own affairs.

He’d been diagnosed with a rare-ish condition called amyloidosis, which was messing with his heart. The medication, he was told, would play havoc with his kidneys – it was the proverbial rock verses the hard place. He opted for the heart medication, which as threatened, DID play havoc with his kidneys.

In the hospital

Dad was admitted to Addenbrookes Hospital in August 2025 to have some intravenous diuretics to help his failing kidneys and serious oedema. The staff on the ward were lovely, really kind, caring and professional. As we all know, staffing is an issue, there were lots of fabulous people available, but just not the ones we needed – not enough nurses, but lots of health care assistants. So, when we needed fresh water it was quickly found; but if we needed painkillers, or just some health advice, despite their best efforts, we had to wait our turn, which often took longer than we’d expected.

Dad’s health deteriorated, the fluid was coming off, but he felt worse and worse. Eventually more tests were done – Dad had contracted a virus. Immediately he was isolated, and moved to a single room in an isolation ward on the ground floor.

Whilst we had all thought / hoped that that would be better, we were very wrong. Once again the staffing was the main issue. Everyone was busy. We didn’t see the same staff for long. Being in a room on his own meant that Dad was out of sight of the staff, who were run ragged due to understaffing and unreasonable work pressures.

Dad’s Deteriorating Health

Dad’s pain and ill-health went from bad to worse, and within a couple of days, the wonderful consultant, who we’d known for several months, came to see Dad to tell him he could do no more for him and they had come to the end of the road. Dad was his normal stoical self, I suppose he probably knew already, but my heart was breaking.

As the only daughter with three brothers, it usually falls on me to “sort” things – particularly emotional or caring issues. I’d looked after Mum as she slipped away during Covid and had been living with Dad for the last eight months as his health had started to fail. He’d always been my strong, reliable Dad. Always there with a wise word or advice – whether I wanted it or not! His deteriorating health had been hard for us both to bear.

Going home

The consultant had asked Dad what was now the most important thing for him and he’d said he’d wanted to go home, to enjoy his garden and feel relaxed in his own place. Although I did support Dad’s decision, of course, my misery was compounded. How was I going to cope? But, it was what Dad wanted, so I was going to do it!

I got to work, with the team at Addenbrookes, to get Dad home. I’d got him to the hospital by getting him in my car, but getting him home was going to require an awful lot more.

Meanwhile things were getting more and more difficult for Dad at the hosptial. We were struggling to get him the drugs he needed to keep the pain at bay, he wasn’t comfortable, the room was miserable, there was no fresh air, the windows didn’t open, and then there were the simple things like no tea! It was misery compounded on heartbreak.

Arthur Rank Hospice Charity  

The following day someone from the end of life care team suggested we consider the Arthur Rank Hospice. I must admit, initially I’d been very much against it as I knew Dad had wanted to go home.

Getting the home care team organised quickly enough was proving challenging, so, thinking I was being very broadminded, I visited the Hospice on the Sunday night on my way home from the hospital. I got there at 9 ish on Sunday evening, not expecting to be allowed in. How wrong could I have been?!!

It was quiet but there were staff around. I was immediately struck by the “warmth” of the place. I don’t just mean the temperature, but the smiles, the gentleness, the care, … the love! After I’d explained the situation, I was given a cup of tea, a warm hug and promises to see what could be done. I left at 10 ish, already feeling like some of the weight had gone. By the next morning Dad was unconscious and only responding to pain stimuli. I couldn’t discuss it with him, the one person who’s “permission” I needed.

My brothers and I chatted and we all went back to the Hospice the next day to chat it through again. We decided that we’d plan for both home care and the Inpatient Unit at Arthur Rank Hospice and see who had a vacancy first. Both gave their blessing for us to take that approach. By then I was hoping against hope that we’d get into Arthur Rank Hospice.

Moving from the Hospital 

By some huge stroke of good luck a bed became available for Dad within a couple of days and we made plans to move him as quickly as possible. I am a huge fan of Addenbrookes Hospital – the staff and care are second to none, but at that time in our lives we needed more than they could give us!

The short transfer [from Addenbrookes to the Hospice] was awful, Dad crying out in pain much of the way and by the time we arrived I was beside myself.

A soft cloud of love, kindness, and care

Once we arrived it was like a whole different story. I’d been tumbling down the deepest well, with nothing to hold on to, but now I found myself landing in a soft cloud of love, kindness, and care. I could weep, even now, thinking about how incredibly lucky we’d been. I’d been trying to keep so many balls in the air, and suddenly I was just me, just my Dad’s girl, just there to hold his hand, talk endlessly about days of old, play music, stroke his cheek and remind him how very very loved he was. My brothers and I were no longer fighting his corner, trying to get his medication, worrying that he was in pain. The staff at the Hospice knew, before we did, what Dad needed.

We needn’t have worried about Dad not being at home. He had a bed next to a double door to the garden. We had the window open and could push his bed outside if we’d wanted to. We talked a tour round his garden, played soundtracks of garden birds, pond noises and the like.
Sometimes we felt Dad might like a break from us, so we’d go out and spend time doing a puzzle, having a cuppa and chatting. In the hospital we’d been so wrapped up in making sure that Dad was ok, we never had these times.

Gentle and kind  

As the end drew nearer, the staff encouraged me to stay over. Dad had been moved to a room on his own. It could not have been more different to his isolation room in Addenbrookes. We brought in lots of photographs, plants, momentos from home… He was as “at home” as he could be.

The staff were watching me too, I realise that now. That last evening, a friendly face would pop round the door of our room with offers of hot chocolate or toast, or just a friendly word or two. At about 3 am I realised I hadn’t heard Dad take a breath for about 15 minutes or so. I sat on his bed for another few minutes and then went to find a nurse. I didn’t need to say anything, they just gave me the most loving hug and more tea.

By the time I got back to the room about half an hour later, there was a rose bud on Dad’s pillow. How gentle and kind! The whole experience had been extraordinary. What had been the most hideous and painful time had suddenly become a dignified, gentle and respectful time. My brothers and I had strengthened our relationship and Dad had passed away surrounded by love. Those last few days will stay in my mind for the rest of my life. Dad had been the best of men and utterly deserved the care he received.”

Erica concluded by sharing her thoughts about the funding cuts. 

“We will never be able to thank the staff sufficiently for all their wonderful care. It is devastating to think that government cuts could mean that families like ours wouldn’t get this. Dad was, initially, in one of those beds due to be cut by the NHS. How can this be so? Dad fought for this country, he paid his taxes all his life, always did ‘the right thing’. I simply can’t allow myself to believe that this could happen.”

Erica has signed up to the Cambridge to Ely Trek for the Charity. You can support Erica here: https://arhc.enthuse.com/pf/erica-clark

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Our ‘Outstanding’ services are provided free of charge to patients and their families. Our aim being to provide the highest quality care, helping people to make every moment count. You can find out more about how we are funded here: arhc.org.uk/how-we-are-funded.