Christmas is hard enough when someone you love is poorly. It can be surprisingly difficult to know what to buy — something useful without being clinical, comforting without becoming clutter, and still something that feels like a proper present.
We’ve had far too much practice at being ill, in hospital and recovering at home, so we’ve pulled together the things we’d genuinely be pleased to unwrap: lovely things, useful things and a few small luxuries that can make rubbish days a bit easier.
You don’t need to get it perfectly right. Think about them, not the illness. And if you’re staring at the Christmas shopping wondering what the hell might actually help, we’ve got you.
Cosy gifts
Something soft, warm or quietly luxurious for the days spent resting.
Cosy Luxe Faux Shearling Throw
A proper Christmas-present blanket: soft, generous and washable.
Hospital pillows are covered in wipe-clean waterproof plastic that makes you sweaty, clammy and miserable. A pillowcase from home makes the bed feel less clinical, and darker colours are the most practical choice for hospital life — they hide the inevitable marks and cope well with repeated washing.
Day units run cold, fluids going in are colder still, and a book or a phone is no fun with numb fingers. A rechargeable warmer sits in one hand or a pocket for the length of a chair session, with no faff and nothing to plug in at the bedside.
Standing wet in a shared bathroom trying to make a small stiff towel go round is nobody's finest hour. A big soft bath sheet from home covers you properly, dries you quickly and is the least glamorous, most appreciated thing in the bag.
Lovely things to wear
Comfortable clothes that still feel like a proper present. Check their size and what they like wearing first.
Setting Sun organic-cotton jersey pyjamas
Soft, comfortable pyjamas that feel like a proper present.
A button-through top is easier to manage around cannulas, sore shoulders or limited movement, while still looking like a Christmas present rather than hospital kit.
Pure Cotton Brushed Check Pyjama Set
A useful men’s option: cosy cotton, button-through and easy to wash.
Chemo chairs and day units run cold, and drips make you colder still. A zip or button front can be draped over a cannulated arm rather than threaded onto it — a pullover simply can't be worn.
A really good bag
For treatment days, hospital stays and everything afterwards. A good bag is one of those presents that keeps being useful long after the hospital bit is over.
Nimbus Roam Tote
A smart treatment-day or hospital-day bag that somebody would happily keep using afterwards.
The 20-litre capacity gives room for day essentials. Grab handles and an adjustable cross-body strap give carrying options, with an external zip pocket, internal slip pockets and water-resistant fabric.
Everything lives in this bag for the duration and gets moved every time a bed does. Soft sides squash into a locker, a shoulder strap frees a hand for a drip stand, and something you actually like the look of makes the whole business feel less like an emergency.
Why we chose it
This would make a lovely gift: it is roomy, squishy and has just the right number of pockets.
A hanging wash bag keeps everything off shared surfaces and within reach. It is particularly useful when the trip to the bathroom also involves manoeuvring a drip stand, because the whole kit travels and hangs up in one go.
Small gifts that make a surprisingly big difference
A bit of quiet, a bit of distraction, or one less everyday faff. These are useful things from our existing Sick List picks.
A four-hour infusion next to a beeping pump is exhausting. Noise cancelling turns a shared bay into something bearable, and doubles as a signal that someone needs a rest from conversation.
Ultra-thin flat speakers mean patients can listen to podcasts, music and audiobooks comfortably while resting sideways against the pillow, without hard earbuds digging into the ear. It doubles as a light-blocking band for daytime rest.
Why we chose it
We categorically agree: we wouldn’t be without this in our hospital bags.
Ward wifi is patchy and rounds interrupt everything. Puzzles can be picked up and put down instantly, fill ten quiet minutes without much commitment, and work when concentrating on a full book feels impossible.
Why we chose it
The most addictive puzzle book we’ve found — we all love Murdoku.
Hospital sockets sit behind the bed, above head height, or on the far wall. A standard 1m cable means choosing between charging your phone and being able to reach it. Three metres reaches the bed every time.
Flexible bedside phone holder
Keeps your phone in view for films and calls, without having to hold it up.
Holding a phone up while lying flat is tiring and drops it on your face eventually. A clamp arm makes films and video calls possible for someone who can't sit up.
Push the boat out
If a bigger present is right for them: a substantial bag, or a tablet for films, books, games and calls. Neither is essential — choose what they’ll actually enjoy using.
The 47-litre capacity suits a longer stay. Water-resistant fabric, grab handles, an adjustable cross-body strap and internal and external pockets make it useful for admissions and stays, but nice enough to be a substantial Christmas present.
Ward televisions are expensive and awful, and a phone screen gets tiring. A light tablet holds downloaded films, books and puzzles for the flat afternoons, and makes a video call feel like a proper visit rather than a shouted phone conversation.
Why we chose it
It is definitely a push-the-boat-out choice, but it is lightweight, has a long battery life and is slim enough to fit into almost any hospital bag.