I don’t quite know how it happened – I guess it was meant to be. But somehow I ended up working on a hospital ward with cancer and palliative care patients.
That’s not how I would have described my Reiki journey when I first started. But here I am – and it’s become one of the most grounding, humbling, and profound experiences of my practice. And my life.
I volunteer as a Reiki practitioner with NHS patients – mostly people going through cancer treatment. It’s a very different environment to my private therapy rooms. There are no soft lights or calm music – though some patients put on headphones, which helps create a quieter bubble until a worried family member calls. There are beeping monitors, busy nurses, doctors running health checks, the particular smell of hospitals, white walls, and people who are often exhausted, anxious, and in pain.
And yet Reiki works. It brings moments of calm and headspace. Perhaps more visibly there than anywhere else I’ve practised.
Why hospitals?
When people hear that I volunteer in a hospital, the first question is usually: “I didn’t know they offered that?” The answer is yes – and increasingly, NHS trusts are recognising the value of complementary therapies alongside conventional treatment. Reiki doesn’t replace medical care. It never could, and I’d never suggest otherwise. But it offers something that medicine, brilliant as it is, can never quite provide.
Presence. Stillness. A nap, even. Time where nothing is being done to you, and you can just be.
Cancer treatment is relentless. Chemotherapy, radiotherapy, surgery, scans, consultations – the body is constantly being intervened upon. The mind is constantly processing fear, uncertainty, anxiety. There is very little space just to breathe.
That’s what Reiki offers in that context. Not a cure. Not even a promise. Just a pause. An escape, or a restorative nap – and after a series of sleepless nights from chemo, that is no small thing.
What I actually see
I’ve watched people arrive to sessions tense, guarded, sometimes sceptical. Understandably so. They’re dealing with enough without someone suggesting they “just relax.” (We can’t use the term “energy healing” in clinical settings, which I think is quite right – the language needs to meet people where they are.)
And yet something shifts. The breath slows. The shoulders drop. The jaw unclenches. The warmth of hands can ease physical discomfort in a way that reminds people of a hot water bottle – simple, familiar, safe. Under my watch, people often fall into a deep, restorative sleep in a way they tell me they haven’t managed in a long time. Sometimes there are tears – not from sadness exactly, but from something being released or quietly realised.
One thing I’ve noticed consistently: people don’t need to believe in Reiki for it to have an effect. Sceptics respond just as readily as believers. The nervous system doesn’t require conviction – it just needs the conditions to feel safe. And somehow, even on a hospital ward, Reiki creates those conditions.
What this has taught me about Reiki
Volunteering in healthcare has sharpened how I think and talk about what Reiki is and isn’t. I’ve had to be precise. Honest. Evidence-aware. You can’t use vague spiritual language on a hospital ward – and frankly, you shouldn’t need to.
What I’ve come to understand is that Reiki works on the nervous system. It downregulates the stress response. It creates space for the body to shift out of fight-or-flight. Whether you frame that energetically or physiologically almost doesn’t matter – the experience is the same.
I’ve also learned that the most powerful thing a Reiki practitioner offers isn’t technique. It’s presence. The willingness to sit with someone in their difficulty without trying to fix it, explain it, or make it mean something. Just to be there. To hold space.
That’s as true in my private practice as it is on the ward.
Why I’m sharing this
Not to impress. Genuinely.
I’m sharing it because I think it matters for anyone considering Reiki to know that this isn’t exclusively a wellness industry offering. It’s being used in NHS settings, alongside conventional medicine, with some of the most vulnerable patients imaginable. That doesn’t make it magic. But it does make it worth taking seriously.
If you’re curious – whether you’re dealing with stress, burnout, anxiety, or something more significant – a free 15-minute discovery call is always available. And I promise I won’t try to convince you of anything.
That’s not really my style.
