Waiata from Room 10

Being able to care for their kōtiro (girl) in accordance with tikanga Māori (Māori customs), as they would at home, brought great comfort to the McIver whānau. Here, they share their experience of hospice care for their daughter, Jasmine, at Kārohirohi, our Inpatient Unit in Takapuna.

A hospice inpatient unit is often assumed to be a solemn place. But the time families spend together in an IPU can be quiet and reflective or, equally, joyful and celebratory.

When 44-year-old Jasmine McIver moved into Room 10 at Shea Tce, Takapuna the unit came alive with the sound of song and laughter.

Jasmine came from a large and loving whānau who wrapped themselves around her in her final weeks. Whānau members came and went, and her immediate family - her mother and father Ken and Patsy, twin brothers and four children - rarely left her side, either sleeping in her room beside her or in the specially fitted out whānau rooms.

The whānau sang waiata, shared karakia and reminisced during Jasmine’s 13-day stay. “Because she was a rascal, our girl, so there was plenty to talk about,” Ken laughs. Jasmine - free-spirited, a beautiful mother and loving grandmother - died just four weeks after being diagnosed with stomach cancer. And what made her circumstances crueller was the fact she was not the first daughter that Ken and Patsy had to say goodbye to.

Jasmine’s older sister Tasha died in hospice care in 2014 at the age of just 38 after developing breast cancer. “We had two years at home with Tasha before she passed and that was awesome in comparison to Jasmine’s short term of four weeks from diagnosis, but it was painful watching her deteriorate and Harbour Hospice made it so much easier to deal with,” says Patsy. “The time, the patience, the love, the understanding.”

At the IPU with Jasmine, being able to care for their kōtiro (girl) in accordance with tikanga Māori (Māori customs), as they would at home, brought great comfort to the whānau, Ken says.

“A Māori family wouldn’t normally keep a loved one in an inpatient unit, you would keep them at home,” Ken explains. “But Harbour Hospice was very comfortable and spacious, and it was Jasmine’s wish to stay at the unit.

“Our presence was probably an awakening for some. As Māori, we sing a heck of a lot and we really enjoy each other’s company at the same time. We want to be a part of our loved one’s everyday needs – wash her, take her to the bathroom, change her bedding and dressings. That’s our way.”

Harbour Hospice Kaiāwhina, Barb O'Loughlin, stood alongside the family to support and advocate for their needs. “My role is to ensure the specific needs of each Māori patient, their family and whānau are met, so that they can navigate their end-of-life journey in a context that feels comfortable to them," says Barb.

Ken says Barb was “phenomenal” in ensuring the family’s needs were understood and met in their entirety.

“And that acknowledgement from the hospice staff, allowing us to come and go in the way we did as if we were at home, extending that manaakitanga (hospitality), they really catered to us. That meant the love and attention we were able to give our daughter was something to behold right up to the end.”

When Jasmine’s body was removed from hospice the whānau performed a spine-tingling haka, led by Jasmine’s youngest, her 17-year-old son Ihaka. The haka was performed in acknowledgement of the challenge that lay ahead for Jasmine, to complete the journey to her final resting place.

Ken says, “We have no words for how accommodating Harbour Hospice was, and for the love Hospice allowed us to give our kōtiro. We acknowledge their mana wāhine, the team in its entirety. Even after, they have never forgotten about us, with Barbara coming to check on us and one of their doctors, Dr Eugenia, who was there for us all the way.”

This story appears in the Harbour Hospice 2022- 2023 Impact Report.