Mark’s story

“The hospice is more than a building,” Mark says. “It’s a community and for people used to being moved around or judged, it has to meet them where they feel safe.”

His patients often face incurable conditions, substance misuse, trauma, and mental ill health. Many don’t think they qualify for care—or believe it’s too late to matter.

“They’re so used to seeing people die around them that they think that’s just how it ends.”

Mark’s approach is radically human. No clipboards. No uniform. Just respect, persistence, and presence. A walk in the park. A chat over coffee. A voice they trust when no one else turns up.

One man Mark supported was struggling with alcohol dependency, poor health, and a deep sense of isolation. Together, they rebuilt his confidence—starting with small conversations, then volunteering in a Keech shop. That led to paid work, sobriety, and reconnecting with family.

“He didn’t need sympathy,” Mark says. “He needed a reason to get up in the morning.”

Mark collaborates with GPs, housing officers, hospitals, and charities to ensure no one falls through the cracks. Sometimes, that means helping someone get to chemotherapy. Sometimes, it means making sure no one dies alone.

“People just want to be seen. To be heard. To feel safe. That’s what inclusive care is.”

This work is rare—but growing more vital every day. In Luton, 1 in 57 people is homeless. Mark’s service is a lifeline. But it depends on donations from our supporters, without whom we wouldn’t be able to continue this valuable work.