Page 26 of The Life Experiment

The Life Experiment: Daily Questionnaire

Property of OPM Discoveries

What are two things you are grateful for today?

Recently, it’s hit me how lucky I am. I should probably acknowledge it more

Taking a chance when I first went to Haven. Maybe there’s something to the whole ‘lean into life’ thing, after all

What are you struggling with today?

Jasper constantly trying to get me to go out. He can’t sit still and it’s driving me crazy

Do you have any additional notes on what you would like to discuss in your upcoming counselling session?

Maybe we could talk about what attributes make a person become successful

For the second time in a week, Angus found himself pulling up outside Haven Hospice. This time, though, he wasn’t there to wait while Jasper dropped off a donation.

This time, he was there to volunteer.

Britta had told him that patient-facing roles wouldn’t be possible without clearing a few safeguarding checks first, but that there was room in the organisational sphere for a volunteer.

If Angus had time, they needed assistance prepping for Christmas events.

Angus offered his services before Britta even finished her sentence.

Excitement propelled Angus towards the doors. For a moment, he thought of the watch that was tracking his pulse. He wondered what Saira would think when she saw how it was racing.

For the first time since joining the experiment, Angus was excited for their upcoming counselling session. Usually, he dreaded them. Conversations with Saira often centred on Angus’s family, the lies he’d told Layla and his feelings towards himself.

‘Sometimes, the hardest things to discuss are the ones we most need to,’ Saira said towards the end of their last session, six days ago.

Angus had remained silent at that comment, but he felt different now.

Now, he had lots to say. He wanted to talk to Saira about Haven Hospice.

In fact, he wanted to talk to everyone about it. Layla especially.

The problem was, Angus had told Layla he worked in IT. Where having the time to volunteer midweek would fit into that narrative, Angus didn’t know. And so, another lie was added to the list. A list that was so long, Angus could barely keep track of it anymore.

Swallowing his unease, Angus entered the building.

‘You made it,’ Britta enthused when she spotted him, then she turned to the man beside her. Older than Angus, he was wearing a polo shirt that read ‘LTC Plumbing’. ‘Angus, meet Aleksander. He’s volunteered here for eight years.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Angus said, shaking the man’s coarse hand.

‘I thought it might be nice if you and Aleksander worked together today,’ Britta said. ‘He can show you the ropes.’

‘Haven’s hosting a Christmas crafts day in a few weeks for residents and their loved ones,’ Aleksander explained. ‘Our job is to package the craft kits. Think lots of glitter.’ Aleksander’s grin was wide and his voice had the distinctive lilt of a Polish accent.

Angus liked him immediately. ‘I think I can handle that,’ he replied.

After signing him in on the hospice’s registration system, Aleksander led Angus down a corridor to a room near the end. Inside, they were greeted by a large table and crates stuffed with crafting materials.

‘There’s a list of what each bag needs to contain,’ Aleksander said, plucking a set of instructions from the top of a crate. ‘How about we group the items first. Then, if we divide them, I can put the first half into a bag, pass it to you and you can add the rest?’

‘Like a manufacturing line,’ Angus replied, examining a stencil for a set of antlers.

Aleksander grinned. ‘Exactly.’

For the next few minutes, the men set about grouping glitter pens, pompoms and glue sticks.

Then they began to construct the packs. Soon, they found their rhythm, assembling bags at speed.

Angus was so in the flow of the routine that he didn’t stop to think what the kits were going to be used for until he heard a child laughing in the corridor outside.

This is going to be someone’s last Christmas, he thought.

As his stomach plummeted, Angus’s death date flashed before his eyes.

He had so much time left, while the people he was making kits for had so little.

Leaning in, he handled each item with care, hoping that the recipient would feel some joy from them.

‘So,’ Aleksander said, once the men had packaged fifteen bags. ‘What brings you to Haven?’

‘Curiosity, I guess,’ Angus replied. When he caught Aleksander’s raised eyebrow, he smiled. ‘It’s not as strange as it sounds. For a while, I’ve been wondering what to do with my life. I stumbled across this place, and something clicked.’

Aleksander nodded then handed Angus another bag. ‘So you want to volunteer?’

‘Not exactly,’ Angus admitted. ‘I’m here to learn what the hospice does. How they help and what more can be done. If there’s a gap, I’d like to use my resources to plug it.’

‘You have money.’ Angus expected a question, but it was a statement. Aleksander grinned. ‘I can tell, and not just because of the car you drive. You seem well-off.’

Angus laughed. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing,’ he said, adding a glue stick to a bag. ‘What’s your story? How come you’re here?’

As soon as Angus asked the question, he regretted it. Lulled into a false sense of security by the friendly conversation, Angus had forgotten where they were. But, as Aleksander’s smile faded at the edges, Angus realised his error.

‘My daughter, Mia,’ Aleksander said after a moment. ‘She was diagnosed with cancer when she was seven.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Angus exhaled.

Aleksander flashed him a smile. ‘It’s okay.

We were lucky. We never had to use a hospice.

’ Relief surged through Angus. ‘Mia’s eighteen now.

A grown-up, or so she tells me. She goes to university soon.

Once, her being well enough to leave home was all I dreamed of.

Now the time is here, it might just break my heart.

’ A half-smile softened Aleksander’s features.

‘I come here to honour the people who aren’t as lucky as my family.

I have to do something. Pay it back. Help the ones who need it. ’

‘That’s brave. It can’t be easy, being around a place that reminds you of the hardest time of your life.’

‘It’s not,’ Aleksander admitted. ‘But part of me thinks that if I do this, I can keep Mia’s cancer away. Silly, yes?’

‘That’s not silly at all,’ Angus replied. ‘I’m really sorry your family went through that.’

Aleksander shrugged in an ‘it is what it is’ way. ‘I’m not the only one. I see it in you too, you know. The sadness that only comes from knowing pain like this.’

For a moment, the men only looked at each other, but then Angus gave a small confirmational nod.

‘I am sorry for your loss,’ Aleksander replied. ‘That’s life, or so they tell me. Knowing that never makes it easier, does it?’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘Sometimes that time feels like it was all a dream,’ Aleksander said as he reached for a new bag to fill.

‘I came to England alone at sixteen to build a better life. I never thought one day I would have a sick child, or that I would raise her on my own. I had no family support, no one to help with money, no one to tell me things would get better.’

Angus’s eyebrows raised. ‘How did you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Well,’ Angus began, his mind whirring. ‘If you were a single parent with no family, how could you be with Mia? Who looked after her when she was sick and you had to work?’

Aleksander smiled ruefully. ‘It was tough, my friend. Back then, I lived in Scarborough, not London. The hospital near us didn’t have a children’s cancer ward.

We had to commute to the one in Leeds, an hour and a half there and back.

Money was tight. Some weeks I worried I couldn’t pay for the petrol to get there, but my boss was a good man.

He gave me time off and extra work when he could.

It was hard, though. All I ever worried about was money.

It’s not what a father should think about when his little girl is sick. ’

Aleksander lost himself in packing another bag, holding a stick of pink glitter for a moment longer than necessary.

‘Mia always says that her cancer went into remission, but my worry never did. It’s true, I think. When something like that happens to someone you love, you don’t forget. You can’t, can you?’ The bright blue of Aleksander’s eyes glinted when he looked at Angus. The spark dared him to be brave.

‘My brother Hugo,’ Angus began, clearing his throat. ‘We lost him when I was eleven. In a way, it feels like I’m here for him. It’s silly, really. He didn’t die of cancer. He drowned. But there’s something about the families here. The feel of the place. I don’t know why, but it helps.’

‘Grief needs no labels. It follows no rules. If Haven is where you heal, then it’s where you need to be. We all know sadness here. We know loss. That’s why we come – so that the living know to remember, and the dying know we won’t forget.’

Struck by the importance of those words, a sudden, unexpected sense of urgency overcame Angus. This is it , he thought. This is the crossroads.

What came next, Angus didn’t know. The path was still hazy, but one thing was clear – fate was calling. This time, Angus knew he would answer.