Through the eyes of Mrs. Land
John’s Journey with Bluebird Care
My husband was a fiercely independent man and a true gentleman. A former Olympian who represented his country in field hockey at the 1964 Summer Games, he lived an active and fulfilling life. When he first began experiencing weakness in his arms and hands during a hockey match, neither of us imagined it would lead to a diagnosis of Motor Neurone Disease at the age of 77.
Over the five years that followed, Bluebird Care supported us in our home, helping us navigate the increasing challenges of his condition while preserving his dignity, comfort, and sense of self. For a long time, John wanted to do as much for himself as he could. The care assistants understood that. If he was slow, they gave him time. They respected his independence.
I remember the first time we received care. Initially, the visits were short—just enough time for me to pop to the library, while a care assistant made John a coffee and checked in. But as John’s condition progressed, so did our needs. Bluebird Care adapted, providing support twice a day and four nights a week, with continuity and compassion.
“The care assistants started coming here about six months after John was diagnosed. Linda and Marion were with us from the very beginning right through to the end. They got to know John and what he was like. They understood what he was going through and could see the changes that were happening to him. That continuity of care was so important and a great tribute to Bluebird Care”
The care assistants didn’t just support John—they supported me too. They were filled with compassion. If I was worried, I could talk to them. They gave me advice and boosted my confidence. They became like friends. I knew about their families, and they knew about mine.
Every aspect of John’s care was delivered with sensitivity and respect. Morning visits included helping him out of bed, washed and dressed for the day. In the evenings, they gently hoisted him into bed after a day spent in his wheelchair.
They understood what it meant for someone like John—who had always been so independent—to need help with the most personal tasks. They made it easier for him to accept, with kindness and without embarrassment.
Even in the most difficult times, they found space for laughter and warmth. They shared stories, chatted about sport, and made sure John didn’t feel defined by his illness. Their presence was a source of joy and emotional strength.
On the morning of John’s passing, one of the carers arrived early, sensing the importance of the moment. I held John’s hand, and she held mine. That support meant the world to me. Both carers attended John’s funeral, a gesture I deeply appreciated.
I knew that John wanted to stay in his own home and that was important to me. I knew he was frightened about what the end was going to be like. I wanted him to be at home so I could be the best support to him that I could. John wanted to die here. There were memories of his family around him, in the bedroom where he slept to the very end.
John died at home, surrounded by familiar memories—photographs of family, mementos from his sporting career, and the love he built over a lifetime. It was where he wanted to be, and with the support of Bluebird Care, it was possible.