Charlotte Burn – A Day In The Life of a Macmillan Mulberry Cancer Information & Support Assistant (CISA)

Services update

7.00am. My alarm rings. ‘What will today bring?’ I wonder. ‘Who will I speak to today?’ No two days are ever the same at The Mulberry Centre because every day I have the privilege of speaking to new and current clients. I work with volunteers and staff who are the most kind, caring and compassionate people you could ever wish to meet.

7.30am. I wash, dress, slap on some make up and make my packed breakfast and lunch (two rounds of cheese and chutney sandwiches) and jump in the car for the short drive to the Centre.

9.45am. Arrive at the Centre. I say hello to today’s Welcomers and staff. I look at my diary for the day whilst drinking a lovely cup of tea.

10.00am. A quick meeting with colleagues to catch up with the week’s events at the Centre and exchange ideas.

10.30am. My mobile rings. A client has rung for some emotional support. She is her husband’s carer and is feeling exhausted. I listen and reassure her what a wonderful job she is doing in supporting him. She says it is good to have someone to talk to who understands and values our support.

11.00am. I ring a client who is booked in for registration for our services. He explains he has just been diagnosed with prostate cancer and is the main carer for his wife who has Alzheimer’s. She has just moved into a care home, and he is coordinating visits with their daughters. He says he is feeling overwhelmed by worry and anxiety. I listen to him and acknowledge what a challenging time he is having. I explain to him the services we offer including counselling sessions and complimentary therapies such as massage and reflexology. I also tell him about our website with the monthly timetable on it. Would he like to join the Men’s Support Group at the Centre so he can speak to other patients and carers in a similar situation to his own? He says this is a good idea, so I book him a place in the group as well as some telephone counselling and massage.

12.00pm. A lady in her twenties drops into the centre with her friend. She has come from the hospital next door where she has been diagnosed with bowel cancer and is receiving treatment. She seems to be in a state of shock. The Welcomer greets them and fetches me. I introduce myself and take them in the garden where I register the lady for our services. She is keen to have face to face counselling and some of our complimentary therapies. She asks if we have information on Welfare and Benefits as she has recently been made redundant, so I promise to book her a session on the telephone.

1.00pm. Eat my sandwiches with a cup of tea in our beautiful garden, enjoying the peace and tranquillity.

1.30pm. Sort out the morning’s paperwork and ensure the clients I have registered are on the waiting list for the services they have requested.

2.00pm. Grab my hospital scrubs and hospital lanyard as I head next door into the hospital. I visit the Palliative Care Team’s office where they tell me who they would like me to visit. I change into my scrubs and visit these patients. There is a huge range of personalities and ages. One lady is a mother of thirty-eight, another is ninety-four. The medical staff are often so busy they do not have time to talk with the patients, so this is where I can help. Many patients enjoy a chat. Sometimes it is just the little things that mean a lot to people. One young lady likes crushed ice with her water, so I bring her some from the café downstairs. A gentleman asks me if I can find him a copy of the New Testament. When I find one in the Multi Faith Centre and present it to him he is overjoyed! Another lady is told by her doctor she can go downstairs (she has been in her room for three weeks). I know how much this means to her, so I ask the nurses for a wheelchair and take her down to the hospital garden where she sits with the sun on her face with a nurse and oxygen in tow. I help an elderly patient with an animal word search in the puzzle book the nurses have given her. These interactions with patients are very special and will stay with me for the rest of my life.

3.00pm. Walk back to the centre and put my scrubs in the washing machine. A Welcomer asks me if I can speak to a young Mum who has dropped in with her baby. She is under the breast clinic next door receiving chemo and would like to register with us. We show her and her baby into the garden where I have a chat and register her for our services. She says she does not want counselling at the moment, but if her partner can look after their baby, she would like to attend our Yoga class and enjoy a massage. I tell her about our Young Women’s Breast Cancer Support Group which meets weekly, one week in the Centre, the next on Zoom. She says that it sounds like a great idea to talk to others in a similar situation, so I book her a place.
My only sadness is that I cannot give my clients hands a reassuring squeeze or hug them when they are feeling upset because of the Covid safety measures of social distancing we maintain at the Centre to protect us all.

4.00pm. Home time. I end the day feeling tired but happy. I love my job as it gives me a real sense of purpose. If I can help others to feel more hopeful and supported, then I feel I have done a good job. To treat others as I would like to be treated. As I say to clients ‘We all need a little help sometimes.’