As some of you will know, Jo was in UCLH for all of November suffering from bowel obstructions. I recall a couple of incidents there that highlighted both her strength and her generosity of spirit.

In a bed opposite her, a French woman was admitted with (I think) acute appendicitis. She had been returning with her partner to France to see their child. One evening she was in extreme pain, extremely agitated, and understandably quite noisy. Jo got out of her bed, walked (slowly with a drip stand) over to the other woman's bed, and spoke quietly and calmly to her. Her main argument was that if the woman had managed childbirth in the past then she certainly had within her the strength to cope with her current pain (an argument that I would be unlikely to think of). The woman's panic subsided and she relaxed. The next morning she was effusive in thanking Jo for her help.

The second incident took place just after we had been told that there was no prospect of effective treatment for the bowel obstruction, and that not only would Jo never eat normally again, but also that we could expect some form of horrendous internal haemorrhage (fortunately this never eventuated). Although we were reeling from this news, Jo decided to take her customary walk around the ward (again with drip stand) which she did in order to keep mobile. As we were walking past one of the bays, Jo noticed a patient that she had met when she (Jo) had originally been admitted. This lady had returned after an absence of a couple of weeks since her illness had clearly recurred. Jo made a point of stopping and talking to the lady for some time, offering encouragement and comfort - all of this despite the fact that she herself was struggling with her own issues. 

Terminal illness strips people of the need to be superficially pleasant or helpful; it was illuminating that Jo retained her desire to aid and comfort people even in the most trying circumstances.