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11 years ago, my Mum Antonia was diagnosed with stage 4 Ovarian cancer. She was told that with the help of chemotherapy, she had two years to live.

Most people would find that news devastating, but as some of you will know, my Mum wasn't like most people. She treated cancer as an irritating inconvenience, not a death sentence, and refused to stop living her life as normal.

Through 11 courses of Chemotherapy, 5 courses of Radiotherapy, 3 major operations, 4 stage one drug trials, Anaphylactic Shock, Septicemia and severe Lymphedema, I never heard her complain or show any signs of giving up. She was a real life Superwoman.

Eventually, at Christmas time last year, after fighting for over a decade, her body was no longer able to match the strength of her mind, and she declined rapidly. Despite unimaginable suffering, her sense of humour never faltered.

After a truly horrific few weeks in hospital, she came home for Christmas Day, then was moved to the Princess Alice Hospice on Boxing Day.

The difference in the level of care was astounding.

The nurses, doctors and volunteers did everything humanly possible to keep her as comfortable as she could be, and took the time to get to know both her and I. There are no visiting hours, meaning I could spend every single minute with her, and even family pets were welcome to come in for visits and cuddles. I can't explain how valuable that time seems now.

As her condition worsened, some of the nurses came in on days off to see me, cried with me, held my hand and made endless cups of tea for the small army of friends and family who had literally camped out on any space they could find to be near my Mum and I.

She was at the hospice for 6 weeks. A relatively long stay.

 During her final days and hours, at a time that can only be described as heart breaking, their care became even more relevant. Despite the terrible pain she was in, the staff continued to support her wishes and allowed her to keep the dignity and grace she would have wanted.

On the 4th of February, she finally fell asleep surrounded by her favourite people. As ever, exactly as she'd planned.

The thought of anyone having to go through a similar experience without the support, strength and care that both my Mum and I received from the Princess Alice is horrible.

I was horrified to learn that they receive virtually no funding from the NHS and that it costs £19,000 per day to keep the hospice running. I decided I needed to do something BIG to help other people receive the care they provided for me, and there's not much bigger than Kilimanjaro!

I will literally take a lift to avoid climbing one flight of stairs, so this really won't be an easy journey for me! However, no amount of altitude sickness or pain could compare to the suffering I watched my Mum endure, so I may just have to can the moaning on the way up, despite my aversion to nature combined with no flushing loos!

My lovely friend Charlotte is insane enough to have agreed to join me, so in February of 2012, a year after my Mum passed away, we'll climb the 19,340 feet to support the people who taught me that a hospice isn't somewhere you go to die, it's a place you live your final days in.

We're so grateful for your support.  

x

 

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