Today is 10th April. If my dad were still alive he'd be turning 59 this today. Unfortunately this is not the case.
I'm one of the many unfortunate people who have lost a parent. If anything I find myself very lucky that I had 19 years with him. You hear of so many stories on TV or of someone you know that has lost a parent in sudden circumstances and at such a young age, now that must be so unfair for the whole family. Let me just say I'm not on here looking for people to feel sorry for me but rather to share my story and see if it could perhaps help someone else.
I have told this story so many times as people are curious as to how a man in his early 50's passes away and for me it's an emotional release to tell it. So let me start from the beginning.
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| My daddy and me when I was a baby |
Before I was even born when my dad was 18 years old he was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma, a cancer of the immune system. This cancer is famous for being the undoing of the first Dumbledore Richard Harris in the Harry Potter films, it's a nasty disease. Now where I live we are very lucky to have the Royal Marsden literally 15 minutes down the road and my father was living in this sort of area at the time. During the 70's this form of cancer had a very low survival rate and he was chosen as one of a few participants who was to go through some early treatments of radiotherapy. Now unlike today where radiotherapy is pin pointed to the exact region where the cancer/tumour is they performed it from his neck down to his bellybutton.
This treatment was a miracle and my dad was very lucky to survive this cancer and was in remission until the very end. He was also fortunate enough to have 2 children which they thought would not be possible, qualify as a solicitor and start up his own firm.
As a little girl I always knew daddy wasn't very well and he couldn't be as active as other dads. But I knew no different I enjoyed the things we did have together such as country walks, him teaching me about history and stories of his childhood. Unfortunately when I was 8 years old he was rushed to hospital with a heart attack and the reason for the it...... the treatment he had all those years ago. Now before I continue I in no way blame the Royal Marsden as he had many many years of a happy healthy life after this treatment and I would not be here today!
As I said earlier the radio therapy he had was over a large area including his heart. The treatment had a side effect where after many years the heart would harden. This was the first signs of what was to come but as he was one of the first for the treatment they didn't know what would happen. After this stay in hospital he was fitted with some stents (wire mesh which opens up the arteries of the heart to allow blood to flow more freely) and sent on his way.
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| (L-R) Anna, Dad and me when he was well after the heart surgery |
For a number of years he was fine. A couple more stents fitted but he was otherwise ok. This all changed when I was 15. At this point my parents were divorced and he was living away from home. Anyway, he was travelling to work on the motorway and he had a heart attack at the wheel. He knew what was happening and pulled over on the hard shoulder and with luck that only he had, he flagged down a passing ambulance that had another patient in transit and thankfully they popped him in the truck and shipped him over to hospital.
This hospital was quite a while away from home for me and my mother who was on very good terms with my dad at the time but again with his luck my sister was at university only 10 minutes down the road! But logistically and thanks to us being fortunate enough to have private healthcare we transferred him over to a local private hospital called St Anthony's (ironically my dads name!) They have a specialised cardiology department with very experienced doctors. In the end they thought it best to avoid further heart attacks was for him to have a quadruple bipass (all 4 heart arteries replaced) and a pacemaker fitted. Now as harsh as this surgery sounded it's quite standard and many people have some sort of bipass on a daily basis.
His surgery was in the January and bless him he was so worried about him dying during the surgery he wrote me, my sister and my mum letters. I've still kept mine. The surgery wasn't a complete success, due to the hardening of his heart they could only achieve a triple bipass by using the arteries in his leg and the modern fake arteries (I'm not sure what they're made from). The surgery knocked him for 6 where he didn't come out for 4 months! I'd see 80 year old men come and go within a couple of weeks so it sucked my dad couldn't come home. We had arranged him to come back to the family home for my mum and me to help him and get him working in his normal capacity again. He was still working in his hospital bed the silly sod but with his surgery they cut his vocal cord slightly and in turn paralysing it (very common and I again don't blame the doctors), so standing up in court speaking was going to be tough but speech therapy helped alot. There was some sticky situations where his lungs filled with fluid which became life threatening but he pulled through.
After that it was a bloody miracle in the way he recovered and was even starting to go to the gym! He was a new man and even moved back to his own place. We had about a year and a half of our dad back! Unfortunately as he was not living with us I couldn't really enjoy it though but he had his life and even got back to one of his loves which was the church. I myself am not religious but I was of the opinion if it gave him happiness and solace crack on! Little did he know the church would be the beginning of the end.
One day my dad was walking down the aisle of his local church and knocked his leg on the pew. Now with heart bipass patients you are put on a drug called warfrin which thins the blood allowing it to flow more freely around the body, but if you knock yourself badly it can cause awful bruising and in his case a hematoma which went down to the bone on his leg. His legs kept getting infections and he could no longer walk easily as his legs would swell up to the size of an elephants. We all decided at this point he moved back in with us for good, so we took him to work to carry on as normal but he kept spiralling downwards over the next 2 years to where he couldn't walk 5 paces without getting out of breath. He lost all muscle mass, he couldn't even hold his head up towards the end. He had fought for so many years he was tired. The amount of times he would talk about going to Switzerland to end it all and we supported him and I am a firm believer of people being allowed the choice to die with dignity if they so choose. But it didn't happen that way.
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| Visiting my dad in hospital on my 18th birthday after hitting his leg on the pew |
I can remember the last week of his life clearly. It was December 2009 and the whole swine flu epidemic was in full swing and due to his ailments he was asked to have the vaccine. As with all vaccines they inject you with the disease to allow you body to create antibodies, but it was just too much for his body to handle and he had a fit. He was rushed to our local A&E, again a big thanks to Epsom Hospital who were AMAZING! The same night after a few hours of observations it was decided he went back to St Anthony's to be looked after by the doctors who understood his illness as they had been there from the very beginning.. Now these Doctors were fantastic and all worked together to come up with a solution to get my dad back on track. The solution being a full heart transplant. I admit I got my hopes up and thought this was going to bring back my daddy. They discussed it with him on the Friday and decided to start tests on the Monday to see if he would be a viable candidate. The weekend passed and on that Monday they started testing him. The tests picked up something we didn't expect. My dad was in renal failure where his kidneys were beginning to shut down but the hospital were brilliant and started the relevant treatment.
On Thursday the 17th December 2009 I remember every last detail, as this was the day I lost him. The previous night I had fallen asleep on the sofa. I was not working as I was helping out with him, but my Sister a reception teacher and my mum were working at my sisters school getting ready for her classes Christmas play. It was around 10am when I was woken up by my mum ringing me saying the hospital had called her and this was it, this was the day he was going to die. The school is a 5 minute drive for them but I had to drive 20 minutes to the hospital on my own. I was in auto pilot as I had been preparing myself for this day since his first surgery and arrived not knowing how I got there. I arrived at the hospital safely and went down the same corridor I had been down for years to be greeted by a nurse who saw I was in bits and helped me to my dads room. These nurses had seen me and my family for 3 years in and out of this place and even joined in on my 18th birthday celebrations I had in his room. They had invested in us and my dad and felt the pain too. My dad was so brave, they had given him heroine for the pain and I will never forget one of the nurses saying to a locum doctor give him whatever it takes to take the pain away, we're still friends with her today. I just remember hugging him and realising just how frail he had become, he was like a scared little boy lying in this big bed surrounded by all of us crying. My mum and dad at this point had rekindled their relationship and were going to get remarried so we would be a family again so it just made it all the more painful. He just kept apologising and asking if he was going to die, what were we to say...... I think all we could do was to reassure him. Again all credit to the nurses there who when me and my sister got a bit hysterical whipped us away into their office for hugs and tissues.
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| (L to R) My sisters friend Emilie, my sister Anna, my dad and me on my 19th birthday |
This is how it went until around midday, but my sister ever the professional and I admire her so much for this went back to school to help her reception class put on their Christmas concert. I decided to attended and sat in the audience to get away from everything for just a short amount of time. After that we went straight back to the hospital and stayed there until around 4pm. My mum insisted we go home as we decided we were just in the way at this point and I feel we did the right thing. We said our goodbyes as thought it would be forever knowing there was a chance we might have to do it all again tomorrow. I am so lucky I had this day. I was lucky to say "goodbye" and "I love you" knowing what was to happen. So me and Anna headed home. We went our seperate ways in the house. I assume she was on the phone to her now husband as he lived in Ireland and was frantically trying to get a flight over here to be there for us. I had no one at the time so did the grown up thing at 19 years old of calling the family and letting them know what was going to happen. The phone calls were made and I was sitting at the computer trying to take my mind off it when I heard my sister scream my name saying it had happened. I still remember her frantic tone and it gives me chills hearing the loss and desperation in her voice. I ran up to her and we just held each other and sobbed.
The hospital had arranged a taxi for us to the hospital as our mum was still there and we were all in no state to drive. It was the first snow of the winter that night and I just remember us sitting in the taxi and talking. We were no longer crying as the slow falling snow gave a calm to the night. We were met at the door by our mum who led us up to his room. The closer we got to his room the weaker we felt. All the other patients doors were shut, but dads was open. My sister just seeing the threshold of the door led her to fall into hysterics where my mum was picking her up off the floor and nurses trying to calm her as there were other patients around trying to sleep. But me, I walked in there on my own. In a way I was glad I went in on my own. There he was lying on the bed. I knew he was dead but he just looked like he was sleeping. I went into autopilot at this point and started packing his bag. I packed away all his files (as he was working that morning) his pj's, this ratty old fleece he lived in and his glasses. I kept his glasses. Once I had filled the bag with the few items of his I went over to him. I touched his cheek, it was cold, a cold I had never felt before and have never felt since. The slight stubble on my palms, his jaw line parallel with my fingers. I wasn't scared, I was happy. He was no longer in pain. I kissed his cheek and messed up his hair as the nurses had combed it, he never combed his hair! My sister came in at this point after being persuaded by my mum as she felt we needed this closure which she was right about and me and Anna thank her about that.
I just remember not wanting to leave as this was the last time I was going to see him. Dead or alive this was my dad and this was it. I would never hold him again. I just kept hugging him and putting my hand to his cheek, his right cheek to be precise as that way I could look out on my sister telling her it was ok and it wasn't scary. After a while we kissed him, picked up the bag and left knowing he was in good hands with the nurses, doctors and nuns who would take him down to the morgue.
On the way home in the cab our mum described what had happened as she saw him die. She had said they had given him more painkillers to allow him to sleep after we had left. She watched him as his breath became slow and shallow. He felt nothing, and when he took his last breath my mum said she could feel him leave, like his spirit had left his body and there was peace.
So that was it. I was 19 years old and had lost my dad. Of course I was upset and still am today recalling these memories, but we as a family are happy that he has passed. He had given up the fight and wanted to go, he didn't want to be in pain any more. We did exactly as he wanted and we carried on being a happy and healthy family but with just a section of our heart that will always be missing, but we have many ways to remember him. We split his ashes 3 ways, a third is in Wales where his dads ashes were spread by the sea so they could be together. Another third is in a local crematorium rose garden where I can go visit him, sit on a bench and just have a moment. The final third I told him about after seeing something on TV, we turned him into a diamond. As he knew he wouldn't be here for our weddings, children's christenings and other huge life events all we need to do is put on this beautiful necklace which his diamond and he's there with us. I know he'll be looking down on us all and be so proud
I hope this doesn't anger or upset anyone too much but I feel I had to share my story with you. If anything I'd hope that after reading this you give you family a big hug or a phone call to say you love them as sometimes you take it for granted that they'll always be there as I did at some points, but knowing I got the chance to say goodbye is the best thing I've ever done. He was my legend.
Love to all of you xx
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Me and my dad when I was little
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