Darren & Susan's Hospice Story
Rotherham Hospice Patient Stories
Darren was the kind of person who made a room feel a bit more alive. Sociable, funny, always up for a laugh… and when he wasn’t with people, he was on the golf course. That was his place. Whatever was going on in life, golf was where he went to feel like himself.
We’d walk together too, particularly through Covid and around Wentworth Woodhouse, through the grounds, just the two of us. They’re simple things when you’re in the middle of them. You don’t know, then, how much you’ll miss them.
In June 2023, Darren was referred to cancer services. By August we had the diagnosis: advanced prostate cancer. He started chemotherapy and hormone therapy at Weston Park that October, and the side effects were brutal — relentless nausea, pain, exhaustion. I was doing everything I could to keep things going at home, but if I’m honest, I was running on empty long before I admitted it to myself.
Darren knew his illness was terminal, but he didn’t want to know how long he had. So palliative care hadn’t really come up… until I asked for a referral to Rotherham Hospice. I’d come across the hospice years before in my time as a nurse. I’d done my student placement at the hospice 25 years ago and so had some sense of what it could offer. Most people don’t and I think that’s part of why families wait longer than they need to.
“There are misconceptions, even among healthcare providers, about what the hospice is and what it can provide.”
Our first appointment with Dr. Katie Flint, Rotherham Hospice’s palliative consultant, changed things straight away. A clear plan was put in place to get Darren’s pain and symptoms properly under control. He’d been nervous about coming… he’d expected it to feel clinical, like another hospital. When he walked in and looked around, he said it was like a hotel. I can’t tell you the relief I felt hearing that.
And with his pain managed, he got some of his life back. He played three more rounds of golf — three rounds he never thought he’d have. We went to Devon that summer and he played while we were there. Little did we know that would be his last game with Jack, our son. Those rounds, those days, they mattered more than I can say. Dr. Katie was always at the end of the phone throughout all of it, always honest with us about what was happening.
As the following autumn came, his symptoms worsened again, and we asked to be referred to the Inpatient Unit. Dr. Katie said there might be a wait for a bed — that was a Friday. By Sunday she rang to say one was ready.
I was frightened walking in and felt so guilty. Darren’s one wish was to die at home, and I’d promised him that. I was scared I was already breaking it. But before I’d barely got through the door, Jacqui on reception had scooped me up, sat me down with a cuppa and just listened while I cried. It was partly guilt, partly relief — because I had carried so much for so long, and for the first time in months I felt like somebody was carrying some of it with me.
“Him being in the hospice was the best medicine we both could’ve had. He hadn’t been sleeping because of the side effects, and I hadn’t been sleeping because I’d been keeping one eye open. Being there meant we both slept through the night, knowing we were supported.”
Darren was there for a week. Our dog came to visit. The staff made sure it never felt institutional. While he was being looked after by the clinical team, the hospice offered me complementary therapies — hot stone massages, hand massages — and Darren was glad I was getting that. It was also the week I finally had enough headspace to make a decision I’d been putting off: I needed to step back from work to be there for him properly. Being at the hospice, with some of the pressure lifted, I found the clarity I’d been waiting for.
When Darren was ready to go home, our family had used the week to get the house set up properly for him. As we were leaving, he told me that if he needed to come back, he would. It might sound like a small thing. To me, it was huge. The man who hadn’t wanted to come was saying he’d return if he had to. The weight of that promise I’d made felt, for the first time, a little more manageable.
He came home to the Rotherham Hospice ‘Hospice at Home’ team alongside his district nurses, with Dr. Katie still there for us. The hospice team gave me the confidence and support I needed to care and support Darren through the next and hardest stage on this journey. His treatment had been withdrawn and from October through to Christmas, he was very poorly but stable. Then on Christmas Eve, he deteriorated. The Hospice at Home team came out straight away, and they told us — for the first time — that he had around two weeks. It was hard to hear. But the way it was said, with honesty and care and without any coldness, meant I felt held rather than blindsided.
Darren died on 7th January 2025. He’d made it to our wedding anniversary. He’d seen the new year in. And he died at home, which is what he’d always wanted.
“I am forever indebted to the hospice for everything they did — for both of us.”
The hospice didn’t stop when Darren died, and I don’t think I’d have got through the months since without them. I go to the Good Grief Café, where I can sit with people who understand without having to explain myself. When a run of hard anniversaries hit in June, I asked for more support, and they gave it. I’ve been having one-to-one counselling with Scott since; he has been amazing. People are sometimes surprised I keep going back, as if it must be painful. But it isn’t. It’s where I feel part of a family.
Last year I went back to Wentworth Woodhouse — the place Darren and I used to walk together — and I dedicated a feather for him as part of the Feather Appeal. Standing in those gardens, I felt him close. It was one of the most meaningful things I’ve done since losing him.
This year, I’ll be dedicating a butterfly. Because he deserves to be remembered there, in a place we both loved. And because every dedication helps the hospice keep doing what it did for us — for the next family who needs it.
“Somebody fundraised before Darren was ever ill so that he could get the care he received. I like knowing that what I do now will provide that same care for someone else’s family. You can’t take a place like this for granted.”
Dedicate a butterfly in memory of someone you love
This summer, we invite you to dedicate a butterfly in memory of someone you love. As part of our Butterfly Appeal, hundreds of beautiful steel butterfly ornaments crafted by MTL Advanced will come together in the gardens of Wentworth Woodhouse, creating a powerful and peaceful tribute — a Meadow of Memories.
Each butterfly tells a story. Each one holds a wish. By dedicating a butterfly, you’ll honour their memory in a truly meaningful way, while helping Rotherham Hospice continue to add more life to every day for patients and families in our care.
Every dedication of £40 or over will receive:
- A personalised engraved tag to place on your chosen butterfly
- One visit to the Butterfly Appeal installation (4th-19th July 2026)
- Your butterfly and tag to take home as a lasting keepsake
- An invitation to our exclusive launch event to open the installation
