From the cradle to the grave

I can distinctly remember being a student nurse on an orthopaedic ward and a patient that stuck with me. They’d been admitted with a broken neck of femur, a common break on the ward after falling down the stairs but they also had terminal cancer. The patient was fearful of what lay ahead and had many questions about the end of their life. I remember feeling frustrated that I didn’t have the answers and couldn’t “fix” the situation for them.

I tried my very best to just sit with them, the silence and their thoughts and feelings. Before the end of my shift, the nursing sister took me aside and told me I’d spent too long talking to that patient and not enough time documenting and I’m not going to have time to talk to patients once I qualified.

I promised myself, from that moment on, that I was never going to be the type of nurse that didn’t have time to talk to people. Especially those who were scared or frightened.

A career shaped by listening

I was drawn to a career in nursing as I’m a people person who cares deeply about people’s experiences in their most difficult moments. I’ve always wanted to have a role where I felt I could amplify the voice of people who felt they weren’t being heard.

Sadly, I felt that was becoming more difficult to do in our National Health Service. Although I’m very grateful for my experience working in the NHS, I found bureaucracy and task-orientated nature of the work challenging at times. I often encountered a lack of empathy from clinicians where patients had become numbers instead of people and often didn’t listen to what patient’s actually wanted or what’s important to them and their families.

A new chapter at Compassion in Dying

A month ago, I took on a new role at Compassion in Dying. As a dual qualified nurse and midwife, my previous experience has been varied. I’ve worked across the primary and secondary care sector in large NHS London teaching hospitals as well as in the community. This has included working in intensive care during the COVID-19 pandemic, general practice and across maternity services including labour ward and a continuity of care homebirth team.

I’ve also worked for London Ambulance Service as a 999 clinical advisor and am a senior clinician for a charity called My Body Back which provides sexual health services to those who’ve experienced sexual trauma. The variety in these roles has provided me with a range of experiences and knowledge that I bring to Compassion in Dying.

I came to this role because I believe in holistic, person-centred care. Whether that’s preparing for a birth plan or making decisions about end-of-life care. Both are deeply human experiences where people deserve to be heard, respected, and supported. What I didn’t expect was how familiar this work would feel, despite the obvious differences.

Listening mode

In my first weeks, I’ve mostly been listening. Listening to the team, to the stories of people who call our free information line, and to those sharing their end-of-life wishes through advance decisions and other planning tools. Each story is unique, and yet they are united by a desire for dignity, clarity, and autonomy.

I’ve learned that, just like in maternity care, people facing the end of life often feel a lack of agency.

Many are unsure of their rights, how to advocate for their choices, or even what choices are available to them. Compassion in Dying helps bridge that gap, something that strongly resonates with me.

Birth and death: more alike than they seem

At first glance, birth and death might seem like polar opposites. But both are major life transitions. Supporting people at the beginning of their lives and the end of their lives and those around them are both times when people are vulnerable, reflective, and often scared. And both require sensitive, non-judgemental care.

What has struck me most is how empowering it can be for someone to have control over their death, just as it is to have control over your pregnancy and birth. I’m seeing firsthand how powerful it is for someone to say, “This is what I want, this is what I don’t want, and this is who I trust to speak for me.”

A steep — and welcome — learning curve

It is definitely a steep learning curve. I’m getting to grips with legal terms like advance decisions to refuse treatment (ADRT), lasting power of attorney, and do not attempt cardiopulmonary resuscitation (DNACPR). These aren’t things I came across often in midwifery, but they are essential tools for end-of-life planning. 

The team here has been wonderfully supportive. There’s a culture of care that extends inward as well as outward. I’ve been able to ask questions, shadow colleagues, and attend training, all of which has helped me feel part of something important and impactful. 

Looking ahead

I came to Compassion in Dying to make a difference, and already I can see that’s exactly what this work does. In just one month, I’ve seen how a single conversation, or a well-written document, can completely change someone’s experience of dying, for the better.

There’s still so much to learn, but I’m grateful for this new chapter. After my previous roles of helping people bring new life into the world, I now have the privilege of helping people leave it with dignity and peace. And that, I’ve come to realise, is just as meaningful.