15 Dec 2025 Patient and Family Stories

Elaine’s Story with The Kirkwood and how her smile lit up a room

When Mick Shaddock talks about Elaine, his partner of more than fifty years there is love, naturally, but there is also admiration, a deep, unwavering respect for the woman who lived with cancer for fifteen years; who continued to hike hills and go on long distance trails. One of her greatest features was how she greeted everyone, even strangers, with a smile that would light up a room. 

Elaine was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010, this then led to other diagnoses including brain cancer. She died at home in May 2025. It was exactly where she wanted to be, and it was a final wish made possible through the combined efforts of her family, community nurses, carers, and the specialist support of The Kirkwood.

This is Mick’s story and Elaine’s.

Mick first heard about The Kirkwood through the people he plays with at his golf club. He said: “I’d taken early retirement to spend more time with Elaine. I joined a golf club, and one of the lads I played with, Phil Sands, turned out to be a trustee of The Kirkwood. That’s how the name first came up.”

Like most people in Kirklees, Mick was familiar with the charity. But his understanding of it was based on assumptions, rather than experience: “I think a lot of people see it purely as a place you go right at the end of life,” he says. “That was certainly my perception. Phil was the one who helped me realise there was much more to it.”

That shift in understanding came at a crucial moment. Around four to five years before Elaine’s death, subtle changes began appearing. Mick commented: “The first sign was that she was losing her balance. In a golfing group, you chat about these things. Phil pulled me aside and said he thought it might be time to get The Kirkwood involved.”

Mick phoned the charity, and a package of information arrived shortly afterwards. Among the leaflets was an invitation to a community event at Cleckheaton Sports Centre, an informal way for families to learn what The Kirkwood offers: “Elaine and I went along, and that was really our first proper exposure to The Kirkwood,” Mick says. “It opened our eyes.”

Afterwards, Elaine attended a wellbeing session at The Kirkwood’s Mirfield furniture store, a simple but meaningful introduction to the charity’s wider support services.

Once they were registered with The Kirkwood, something unexpected began to happen: “Roughly every six to eight weeks, I’d get a phone call,” Mick says. “Someone from The Kirkwood would ring and ask how things were going, whether we needed anything. It came out of the blue, no appointment, no prompting.”

To most families, intensely busy with medical appointments, scans, treatments and the unpredictable nature of cancer, a simple phone call might seem small. But for Mick, it was everything: “It felt like a safety net,” he says. “A reminder that we weren’t dealing with this alone. Even when we didn’t need anything practical, it was reassuring to know someone was checking in.”

In August 2023, everything changed: “Elaine started having a series of stroke like episodes. We had four 999 calls in a short space of time,” Mick says. “She went to Pinderfields, Calderdale, and finally St James’s, which had treated her for years.”

It was at St James’s that the consultant said the words no family wants to hear: “He basically told us, ‘This is the beginning of the end. We’ve reached the end of the treatment options. There’s nothing more we can do.’”

Elaine was discharged home on 23rd September 2023 for palliative care. From the day she arrived home, she was bedbound: “There was never any question about it,” Mick says. “Elaine always wanted to die at home. We had it documented. So we reorganised the house, made up a bed downstairs, and started the final part of the journey.”

The family had support from Locala district nurses and specialist carers visiting four times a day. The GP was never needed during the entire period Elaine was at home. But whenever there was a change Mick didn’t understand, or a worry he couldn’t shake, he dialled The Kirkwood: “They became my first point of contact,” he says. “I’d ring, speak to reception, and someone from the medical side would call me back. Sometimes they’d say it was something for the district nurses, but they were always there to guide us.”

Then, around six months before Elaine died, The Kirkwood introduced a new layer of support: “I was on the phone to The Kirkwood one day and they said they thought it was time for a nurse to start visiting,” Mick explains. “That nurse was Leanne.”

Leanne visited the family four or five times in the months leading up to Elaine’s death: “The continuity was brilliant,” Mick says. “She was lovely, calm, compassionate, with a superb bedside manner.”

Most visits were just Mick, Elaine and Leanne. But as Elaine neared the end, their daughters Helen and Jill, aged 39 and 36 came home too: Mick said: “She sat the three of us down, away from Elaine, and talked us through what was coming. She was honest, but gentle. Not clinical. Compassionate. It wasn’t like a doctor rattling through information. It was someone walking alongside us. We all came away feeling supported.”

Elaine and Mick had been together since school, more than half a century of shared life: “She was wonderful. A lovely mother, a good friend to so many people,” Mick says. “She lived healthily, loved the outdoors. We walked everywhere, long-distance trails, the Dales Way. She climbed over 30 Wainwrights after she was diagnosed with cancer.”

The two of them travelled, walked, visited the theatre, went to concerts, and supported Sheffield United “for their sins”, as Mick jokingly puts it. “She was bloody minded in the best way,” he says. “That’s why she lived so long. She refused to feel sorry for herself.”

As brain cancer advanced, Elaine became confused and drifted between dreams and reality, but her warmth never left: “We had some surreal and funny conversations towards the end,” Mick recalls. “The kids and I would laugh with her, not at her. Even when she was near the end, she greeted strangers with a smile.”

That smile is how she is remembered: “People who had never met her before, carers, nurses, would walk in and the first thing they said was, ‘What a lovely smile.’ That meant everything.”

Elaine died at home, in bed, with her family around her, in May 2025. She had been bedbound for around 18 months. Crucially, she died without pain: “Looking back, if you’d told us 15 years ago that we’d have the journey we had, we’d have been satisfied with that,” Mick says. “We had time to say everything we needed to say. Not everyone gets that chance.”

Mick has no hesitation when asked how important The Kirkwood is to Kirklees: “Absolutely essential,” he says. “I don’t think there’s a family in Kirklees that hasn’t come across The Kirkwood in some way. The NHS is stretched to breaking point. Without organisations like The Kirkwood, so many families would fall through the gaps.”

He also acknowledges the charity’s difficult year, with funding issues forcing painful cuts: “I think it’s incredibly sad and wrong,” he says. “We received phone support and nursing visits, and to think some of that has had to be reduced, it’s heartbreaking. I’m doing what I can to help. Telling our story is part of that.”

Perhaps the most powerful insight Mick offers is this: “Elaine never visited the hospice building, not once,” he says. “And yet we got enormous benefit from The Kirkwood. That’s important for people to understand. It’s far more than a building. It’s a community of people.”

He emphasises that the charity’s support phone calls, nurse visits, advice, and emotional support allowed his family to navigate Elaine’s final years and months with stability and dignity: “If anyone thinks they need support, or a family member does, I’d say contact The Kirkwood straight away. Don’t wait. Absolutely no hesitation.”

Finally Mick said: “Elaine lived with cancer for fifteen years. She lived well for most of that time. She smiled until the end. We were lucky, in a strange way, because we had time to plan and prepare. The Kirkwood was with us for a part of that journey, holding us up, even when we didn’t realise we needed holding.”

Elaine’s legacy lives on in her family, in her smile, and now, in the story Mick has shared, one that shows the true heart of The Kirkwood: not bricks and mortar, but people, walking alongside families when it matters most.

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