After launching Walfinch Eastbourne in March 2024, Poojita Patel was suddenly forced into months of recovery following brain tumour surgery. Now back at the helm, her experience of receiving care has profoundly reshaped the way she leads.
When I launched Walfinch Eastbourne in early 2024, I expected the usual challenges of building a new home care service — recruiting a team, establishing trust in the community, and shaping a culture rooted in dignity and compassion. What I didn’t expect was that, within months, I would become a care recipient myself. A sudden diagnosis of a brain tumour and the surgery that followed changed everything: my health, my family life, and ultimately, my entire understanding of what care truly means.
Recovery was long and disorienting. My speech slowed, my movements were unsteady, and I had to relearn how to walk and talk. I experienced memory loss, depression and a deep sense of disconnection. It was the most vulnerable period of my life — and it reshaped me as a leader in ways no training course ever could.
At first, my daughter cared for me. Her love was unwavering, but the emotional weight on her was immense.
I could see the sadness in her eyes, and I realised that being cared for by someone you love can be far harder than being cared for by a professional. You carry their worry as well as your own. Bringing in professional carers — people I had previously worked alongside — was a turning point. They were gentle, skilled, compassionate, and crucially, emotionally neutral. With them, I could simply be a patient. Not a mother trying to be brave. Not a wife trying to hide her pain. Just a person who needed help.
That experience transformed my understanding of care. It isn’t only about physical support. It’s about restoring confidence, dignity and humanity at a time when life makes you feel small and uncertain. Professional carers don’t just help people function — they lift spirits. They give people back a sense of self.
Returning to work months later, I came back changed. I now recruit differently. I ask candidates why they feel called to care, and I look for signs of empathy, emotional intelligence and an understanding of the spiritual dimension of caring — the part that goes beyond tasks and touches the heart. I train differently too. Our sessions still cover professional skills, but they now go deeper. We talk openly about the emotional realities of care — the fragility, the fear, the courage, the connection. I want every member of my team, from carers to supervisors to office staff, to understand that their role is not only to support bodies, but to lift spirits.
My own experience also changed how I talk to families. Many assume that family care is always best. I used to think that too. But being cared for by my daughter meant absorbing her emotional trauma as well as my own. It wasn’t good for either of us. Now, when I meet new clients, I gently explain the value of bringing in professional carers early — not to replace family love, but to protect it.
Throughout my illness, Walfinch’s leadership stood beside me. From the moment I shared my surgery date, the Chief Executive and franchise support team offered practical help, emotional support, and genuine care. They checked in regularly, sent flowers, and made sure I never felt alone. Their support showed me the strength of being part of a well-led franchise network — a community that holds you up when life knocks you down. It reinforced my belief that leadership is not just about strategy; it’s about humanity.
If I could say one thing to policymakers, it would be this: care is not just a job. It is emotional labour, spiritual labour, and human labour. It restores dignity and identity. It holds people together at their most fragile moments. Any policy that overlooks this truth misses the heart of what care really is.
Today, I lead with more gratitude, more empathy, and more determination than ever. My goal is simple: that every person who turns to Walfinch Eastbourne feels truly seen, heard and cared for — not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. And that applies to my team too. Leadership, to me, now means creating a culture where everyone feels valued, supported and uplifted. Because when carers feel cared for, they pass that care on.
I’ve returned stronger, more grounded, and more committed to ensuring that the spirit of care — the part that restores people, not just supports them — is recognised across the sector. Social care is at its best when it honours the whole person. I’ve lived that truth. And I’m determined to lead in a way that keeps that truth at the centre of everything we do.
