'I can't find words for St Columba's Hospice staff.. they were too good'

Published on Friday 28 May 2010 10:06

AS SHAFQUAT Ahmad planned her husband Junaid's birthday party, she was looking forward to a day of fun with the people she loved most – her family.

The couple and their two sons Hosam, now 17, and Aaqib, 11, would be joined at their home by sisters, brothers, parents, nieces and nephews.

Before they arrived, Shafquat had to pick up test results from the doctor. She was expecting it to be a routine visit – instead she received terrible news.

A few months previously she had found lumps under her arm. Doctors had reassured her there was nothing to worry about, but when the lumps grew painful she was referred for tests.

Junaid, 39, remembers: "It was 17 October, my birthday, and that day she got the result – she had cancer. She tried to pretend she was absolutely fine, because of our family.

"It was a very big party, I have six sisters and my wife's family were there. After everybody left we just took a long drive to talk about it, and I was saying, 'It's OK, it's stable, we will fight it' and she was very strong."

Once Shafquat confided in her relatives, her fight against cancer became a family affair.

The Ahmads had always been close. Junaid was born in Pakistan and met Dundee-born Shafquat at a family party in Pakistan.

They are first cousins, a common pairing in Pakistani families – Junaid's sister Nusrat is married to Shafquat's brother Ashfaq. Even their livelihood, Shamoon's newsagent on Broughton Street, was a family endeavour, with everyone helping out when necessary.

Shafquat underwent surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy and was planning for the future. Junaid says: "We moved house and she had a plan to set up house and she wanted to go to Haaj, and she wanted to stay with the family as much as she could. She was especially worried about the kids, she wanted to live until her eldest son got married. She wanted to live for the kids, for the family."

But a few months after her treatment, Shafquat developed headaches and fresh scans found many tiny tumours at the top of her skull. Junaid says: "They gave her radiotherapy and said, 'If it works we can make it stand still for a while – it doesn't go, but she will be fine for a year. If it doesn't work, she will only live for a short while.'"

After the radiotherapy, drowsy and weak, Shafquat was admitted to St Columba's Hospice in Granton to make the most of the doctors' expertise in treating pain.

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"She was on morphine, and she was always sleepy," recalls Junaid. "She'd open her eyes and you were pushing her to speak. But she was getting better and they said, 'A couple of weeks of recovery, then you can take her home'."

The family pulled together, as they always did. Relatives helped to keep the shop running and there was always someone at Shafquat's bedside.

"Her whole family were coming in every day. After picking up the children we would come to the hospice with them, we'd go back home and make dinner for her, and her brother would bring dinner back in.

"After I finished work at 8pm I'd come to the hospice until 10, 11, whatever time I wanted to spend with her. We just moved there. There was coming and going all the time, everyone spent time with her."

The hospice is known among patients for its excellent cooking, but to make her stay as easy as possible, Shafquat's brother Ashfaq would cook her favourite foods and bring them in. And as the hospice staff drew close to the family, they too were included in the family food round: "Because he's a good chef he would bring food for the staff as well, sometimes I felt like we were doing a picnic, we would bring kebabs, naan, rice, sometimes we'd ask what they wanted and bring it in," says Junaid.

The staff shared the family's pain. They put the two boys at ease, chatting with them about their lives and making St Columba's feel like a home from home, rather than a place of fear.

"I can't find the words for the doctors and the staff, because they were too good," Junaid says.

"Their work is not only helping patients, but also the family that's suffering."

Shafquat seemed to be gaining strength. One day Junaid said goodbye after his evening visit as usual, expecting to accompany his wife to hospital the next day for checks.

But overnight, things changed: "They said, 'Last night when you left, she had a sore head and we had to give her morphine again. We can't move her, because she's suffering so much pain she can't cope'."

A hospital doctor came to visit Shafquat at St Columba's and confirmed that the cancer was continuing its aggressive progress. Shafquat would live for days or weeks, not months. Soon afterwards she fell into a coma.

Again, the Ahmads pulled together – and the hospice was at the heart of the gathering.

The hospice's Columba Room is a peaceful place with sea views, used for quiet reflection by patients and their families.

But as Shafquat grew sicker, members of her family were given bedding and invited to stay there overnight.

On 7 November, 2008, after two nights of their vigil, she slipped away, surrounded by her family, who had been close at hand thanks to the hospice's welcome. She was just 42.

It's 18 months since that day, but the pain is still fresh. Junaid says: "It has been a difficult time recently. 19 April was our wedding anniversary and 6 May was her birthday and before that was Mother's Day. That short period is really hard, and my wee ones always say, 'Why did our mum have to die?' "

But the hospice continues to be a part of the Ahmads' life. On several occasions after Shafquat died, Junaid has picked up the phone to find her doctor, Fred Benton, on the other end, calling just to find out how he is.

He puts aside any spare money he has for the hospice, and his car is full of collection boxes which he fills at the newsagents.

Junaid makes a point of delivering them in person when they are full, so that he can come back and see staff.

"I just make a routine now of putting money aside," he says, "I love to come and visit – I just want to keep in touch. I have very good and bad memories of the hospice, because we spent so much time here every day, and it's still fresh like it's the same day. I'm just so impressed with the people that work for the hospice.

"I think for the rest of my life I'll keep supporting them."