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‘Marie Curie Woolton nurses gave my Millie a beautiful death – we can’t lose that care’
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Four days before she died aged just 24, staff at Marie Curie Woolton arranged for Millie Grace to have her lashes, brows and nails done.
As her glamorous youngest daughter lay in her hospice bed in Marie Curie afterwards, her mum Tess asked her how she was feeling.
“She just sighed and said ‘happy’ like it was the best thing ever,” remembers Tess.
“Millie didn’t know she was dying so she just wanted to do normal simple little things.”
For Tess, from Norris Green, knowing Millie was safe and looked after in her final days made a world of difference.
Now with the inpatient care unit at the hospice facing the threat of closure, she is one of many fighting for its survival.
When Millie was admitted to Marie Curie Woolton in September 2021, it was Tess’s first experience of a hospice.
Millie was diagnosed with stage 4 bowel cancer in December 2020 and after a break in chemo went into the hospice for pain management. She died three-and-a-half weeks later.

“She had this room by a little courtyard and as soon as we arrived a lovely doctor came in and sat down next to her. He chatted to her like they’d known each other for years and we just felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off us. The minute he left the room we thought, thank God we’re in the right place.
“Because Millie was 24 and so stoic she’d say, ‘it’s my cancer, I’m supposed to be in pain’ even though I’d try and tell her she shouldn’t have so much agony. They sorted that out on the first day so she was able to have a proper rest.
“As her mum I knew I only had to look at someone and they’d say, ‘are you OK, do you need something?’ – if I was worried about something they always had time for me, to sit and talk and listen.”
Tess believes strongly that Millie’s final few weeks would have been very different if she’d had to be at home instead of able to stay at the hospice.
“I think if she’d have been at home and in pain and there’d have been conversations going on in the house she’d have known exactly what was happening and been terrified. In there she was like a queen, she loved it and she was so calm.
“Millie had her pain meds through a syringe driver and towards the end she was agitated. I asked the nurses to increase her medication, and they warned me that the more she had, the less time I’d have with her. I told them I understood that but I couldn’t have her in pain or agitated.
“Millie couldn’t talk by then so she couldn’t have asked for it, but they listened to me and it was done straight away. If we’d been at home we’d have had to wait for the next nurse visit, maybe for hours, but in the hospice that medicine was there as soon as I said, ‘she needs it’.”
Tess has already made her feelings known to Marie Curie national management and will join a protest outside the Town Hall tomorrow (Tues) from 4.30pm.
“There’s a council meeting happening and we believe Marie Curie is on the agenda so we’re going to be outside and hopefully they’ll hear us and get how important it is,” she explains.
Tess says she is able to treasure her last moments with her daughter because of the care that Marie Curie staff showed them both.

“For me, Millie’s death was beautiful and it was exactly how it should have been but that’s only because they were there to let me know everything that was happening was meant to happen.
“One of the nurses came in and I was sitting talking to Millie and she said to me ‘don’t go to the toilet or anything will you?’ and I understood. I wanted to lie with to her to give her a hug, so they got me a bed and put it next hers. I put her in my arms and I was just lying hugging her and kissing her.
“I was frightened, I was losing my baby, so I pressed the buzzer and a nurse came in and sat with us. She didn’t say anything, she just held my hand, and it made such a difference having her there.
“After Millie had died all her friends were able to see her which was lovely. When they’d gone, I had a sleep with Millie and when I woke up I knew it was time to go. I was able to go on my terms, no-one told me to get out, no-one removed her.
“I don’t worry about how she died because I know it was calm and beautiful and she was smiling at the end, proper dimples, so I’m at peace with that.
“Everyone deserves to have a death like that, not at home panicking, worrying they’re in pain. It doesn’t bear thinking what it would have been like.
“I could just love her at the end, and I was able to do that because of them.”