I came to Hope & Cope in the fall of 2023. At the time, I was going through a tough patch. My mother had just been diagnosed with a severe chronic illness, and I was one of her caregivers. On top of that, I had lost a job that really mattered to me. I felt unanchored, like I had no purpose.
But something deep down told me it was time to give back.
Years ago, I had worked at the American Cancer Society in New York. I remembered how full of life my colleagues were, even though so many of them had been touched by cancer. Staff or volunteer, almost everyone had a personal connection to the disease. That stuck with me. So when I saw something about Hope & Cope—probably from my McGill days—I picked up the phone.
That call changed my life.
Starting the journey in palliative care
I started volunteering almost immediately, in palliative care. The 12-week training was supportive and well structured. At first, I was always paired with another experienced volunteer, which made a huge difference.
From the very beginning, I realized that palliative care isn’t about fixing anything. It’s about showing up. It’s about being a calm, grounding presence when everything else feels uncertain. Sometimes that means offering a cup of tea. Sometimes it’s a foot massage. Sometimes it’s just sitting quietly beside someone.
I remember this one man—older, gruff, didn’t want anything. I asked him if he wanted me to read. No. Tea? No. Family visiting? No.
Then I asked, “Would you like some ice cream?”
He paused, looked at me, and said: “Yes. Vanilla.”
I opened the container for him and sat there while he ate. We barely spoke. But I’ll never forget the way he savoured that ice cream. It felt like joy, right there in that small moment.
The next week, he was gone.
And I was grateful I had been there for that one last sweet moment.
Living with loss, one moment at a time
People often ask how I handle all the loss. Here’s what I tell them: I don’t focus on the death. I focus on the life that’s still there.
I don’t focus on the death. I focus on the life that’s still there.
Each person I meet teaches me something. I journal when I need to. I ground myself in the moment. And I remember that dying is part of living. If I’ve had the honour to spend even five minutes with someone at the end of their life, then that’s a gift. For both of us.
To anyone thinking of volunteering in palliative care, I’d say: ask yourself why you want to do it. Learn a little about what it involves. And be honest with yourself. It’s not for everyone. But if it’s for you—if you feel a connection—it will change your life.
Rediscovering Meaning
One of the biggest things I’ve learned through volunteering—especially in palliative care, but also while leading the grief and loss group at Hope & Cope—is how powerful it is to live each moment like it might be your last.
That might sound cliché, but it’s true. When I lost my job, I felt like I had lost my identity, my sense of purpose. But through volunteering, I discovered that who I am isn’t tied to a title or a career. It’s tied to how I show up in the world.
Volunteering helped me shift my focus from the external to the essential. It reminded me that life is about the small moments: a warm cup of tea, a kind word, a quiet presence. And palliative care, more than anything, has shown me that it’s not just about supporting people at the end of life—it’s about helping them live fully, right up to the end.
It’s about living — until the very end.
If Martine’s story inspires you, we invite you to apply to become a Hope & Cope volunteer. We’re always looking for more people with hearts of gold who want to help people with cancer. We look forward to meeting you!
