Monday, 10 June 2013

So that was Sunday afternoon. Little good it did him.  On Monday I received a telephone call at work around 5pm, Dads breathing had changed, it didn't look good, I should get there as soon as I could.

My head was a whirl, I couldn't think straight, my colleagues were concerned, but I couldn't say it, tears were filling my eyes, but I couldn't say it. My Dad was going to die. I must have managed to though as a manager was there, telling me to go, to do what I needed to do, not to worry about work.

I telephoned blokey, no way was I going to be able to drive there. He picked me up. He held me. Told me it would be O.K. I couldn't hear his words properly. The radio was on, a track came on

This is the end,Hold your breath and count to ten,Feel the earth move and then,Hear my heart burst again,

And the tears rolled down my cheeks.

On the ward there were no nurses around.  My poor frail Dad, whom they were so concerned about, was laying slumped in his bed, semi recumbent, head bent forward, an oxygen mask had been put on his face, but it had slipped off.  No matter anyway as his airway was so occluded from how slumped nothing would have got in. by this point his skin was leaking tissue fluid like a sieve, his skin was breaking down. Yet a manual blood pressure cuff had been left on his tiny arm, its hard fabric and Velcro digging into his skin. Why was it even on? if it had been a dinamap set to be monitoring him regularly then I would have understood - but this was ridiculous.

If they were concerned enough to call me away from work, that they thought this was it for Dad why the fuck was he in this state?

I was furious, I removed his BP cuff, straightened him up, grabbed some inco sheets to wrap his arms in an attempt to keep his sheets and gown dry from the fluid leaking out of him, I moistened his mouth, and readjusted his O2 mask.

Finally a nurse appeared and I asked to speak to the Doctor.  When he arrived, flustered and rushed, he told me it wasn't good.  But still they wouldn't consider the LCP and I still don't know why. He suggested I needed to get Dads partner to be with him. 

So my wonderful blokey took me to her house to collect, as it was dark and she won't drive in the dark. The 2 of us sat by his bed until way past 11pm, Dad was asleep, but peaceful and looking more comfortable.  We agreed we were both tired and nothing seemed to be changing. After asking the nurses to call us if anything changed at any time, we we headed home.  Dropping Dads partner off then heading home to bed.

Not that I had much sleep that night, it was a night filled with bad dreams and wakefulness.

and at 6am the phone rang, the nurse telling me Dad was going. I rang Dads Partner and picking her up on the way we arrived by his bed at 7.30am. He had remained unconscious all night and there was no change now. The curtains were drawn round his bed whilst the other patients had their breakfast. We sat and talked to him, to each other, I held his hand and stroked his hand. I tried to be at peace with him, and myself.

Then at about 8.25am he stopped breathing, no drama, no panic, just stopped breathing. He looked so peaceful, so small, so vulnerable.

I kissed his forehead, and we stepped out of the curtains to let the nurse know. She called a Doctor and I sat with him again until she came, I kissed his forehead, told him I loved him and cried.

I can't do anymore of this for now. Reliving it is painful. My heart is breaking again; not just for the loss of Dad, but for the missed opportunities, for the chances I didn't take to build a relationship with my Father, the chances I wasn't given to build that relationship.

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