Dad has been gone for far too long and I think it is time that You gave him back. You've had your time with my Dad. We've had our time with him gone. And now we would all like him home, with us, where he belongs. My Dad's chair sits emtpy when it should be filled with his body. Our house is quiet, when it should be filled with his laughter. His motorbike is still, when it should be zooming at great speeds with Dad's riding.
You have the ability to turn back time and make this all a dream. You can alter the world and bring Dad home, where he belongs. You don't need to have my Dad just yet because we need him. I would give you anything, God, if you could bring Dad back to us all healed from the cancer. You can make this Dad-shaped absence all a bad dream, where we can wake up and see Dad back again.
Please find a way to bring my Dad home.....
Sunday 30 September 2012
Sunday 16 September 2012
Life is a sweet lie...death is the painful truth
I don't know what to write. I don't know what to say. My Dad was suppose to be healed. He was suppose to be fixed and cured. On Monday 16th July this year my Dad, who is the most amazing man ever, died. That week is such a blur that it's hard to recall what happened when. It's hard to recall what was said between us.
My Mum and Dad had been on a holiday to Cornwall. They'd had a good time and although dad had some really bad days he had managed. He had started to have difficulties swallowing food, no matter how soft it was and he was losing weight. When they came back from their holiday, I remember dad looking quite frail but we all thought that it was because he'd been walking loads and doing a lot; that maybe he was just exhausted and needed a rest. Dad's pain began to get worse, so he phoned St Barnabas hospice for help. They had helped him before, so we were all hoping they would help him again.
We were expecting Dad to go in and get his pain meds adjusted and then for him to be out in a week or so. He went in on the Thursday 5th July. They had started to sort out his meds and he was laughing and joking with us. Yes he was still in excrutiating pain and I hated seeing him hurting so much but we all thought he was coming home. On the 13th July Mum got a phonecall and I left work early. The doctor had seen dad and it was bad news. They explained that Dad was deteriorating very quickly and that we should prepare for the worst. I asked how long they thought he had and the nurse explained that they could not give a time because everyone is different. I asked whether they were talking months or weeks. She said, 'You'd be lucky if it was weeks.' I am pretty sure that I forgot how to breathe and I wanted to say something but the huge lump in my throat stopped me.
I remember going back into the room with Dad. He looked so frail. He was chatting to us, although he was drifting in and out of consciousness because of the drugs. He cracked a few jokes. I was hoping so much that the nurses had got it wrong. It was hard to talk to Dad because I couldn't control the wobble in my voice and I didn't want him to hear that I was upset. I prayed so hard that night for my Dad to be ok. We went back on Saturday and he wasn't much better. He told me that he loved me. I told him that I loved him. Again it was so hard not to cry. We had joked previously that no one wants a bunch of bawlers at their bedside. As I sat there holding his hand I prayed for God to give my Dad his love, to feel peace and to be fixed. I have no idea whether any of it happened. I know that God didn't fix my Dad.
On Saturday evening I text my Dad telling him that I loved him so much and that I was praying for him. I wasn't expecting a reply but he did reply. I cried so hard because I knew that this would be the last text that I would get. I still have his text on my phone but I can't read it yet. It makes me cry so much. I love my Dad and he is the best Dad ever.
On Sunday 15th we all went to the hospice. We moved Dad into a private room. He was in so much pain but he had been able to eat some grapes, so I thought that we had got lucky and God was actually doing something. But Dad didn't get any better from that point. Mum and I stayed at the hospice that night. I didn;t want to leave him. He shouldn't have to do anything on his own. He thanked me for staying and said that he loved me and gave me a kiss. Mum and I swapped shifts in the night so that she could sleep. I held his hand.
On Monday 16th he wasn't able to stand by himself anymore because he just wasn't strong enough. He was all bone. It was so odd. It had all happened so quickly. He only went in for pain relief.
Dad started to become restless and wanted to go to the toilet but he wasn't strong enough to push the wee out. So the nurse wanted to put in a catheter. She said Icould stay in the room but I said to said that I would leave, so he could have his dignity. Mum went in at that point and I had breakfast that the nurses gave me. Once they had got Dad dressed, I went back in and we were all talking. Dad wanted to be in the chair so we got him in it. Dad was very restless. He wanted to be out of the chair and it took a lot of nurses to fight him back into it. The nurse had previously explained that towards the end of life people get extremely restless and start to fight it. This was what we thought was happening to Dad and it was heart breaking to see. This was my Dad. I wanted to fight for him but there was nothing that Icould do.
Dad was sedated because of his pain, so they gave him some stronger pain killers. Dad didn't speak again. He didn't smile again. He didn't laugh again. He didn't tell us another joke. I was holding his hand all the time and talking to him. I told him that everything was going to be ok and that it was ok. At 6.58pm my Dad stopped breathing. He was so still. He took his final breath seconds later and a huge Dad shaped hole has been left. I wish so much that he would come back and fill it; that this nightmare would end and my Dad would be alive and well. I miss you so much Dad. xxxxxxxxxx
My Mum and Dad had been on a holiday to Cornwall. They'd had a good time and although dad had some really bad days he had managed. He had started to have difficulties swallowing food, no matter how soft it was and he was losing weight. When they came back from their holiday, I remember dad looking quite frail but we all thought that it was because he'd been walking loads and doing a lot; that maybe he was just exhausted and needed a rest. Dad's pain began to get worse, so he phoned St Barnabas hospice for help. They had helped him before, so we were all hoping they would help him again.
We were expecting Dad to go in and get his pain meds adjusted and then for him to be out in a week or so. He went in on the Thursday 5th July. They had started to sort out his meds and he was laughing and joking with us. Yes he was still in excrutiating pain and I hated seeing him hurting so much but we all thought he was coming home. On the 13th July Mum got a phonecall and I left work early. The doctor had seen dad and it was bad news. They explained that Dad was deteriorating very quickly and that we should prepare for the worst. I asked how long they thought he had and the nurse explained that they could not give a time because everyone is different. I asked whether they were talking months or weeks. She said, 'You'd be lucky if it was weeks.' I am pretty sure that I forgot how to breathe and I wanted to say something but the huge lump in my throat stopped me.
I remember going back into the room with Dad. He looked so frail. He was chatting to us, although he was drifting in and out of consciousness because of the drugs. He cracked a few jokes. I was hoping so much that the nurses had got it wrong. It was hard to talk to Dad because I couldn't control the wobble in my voice and I didn't want him to hear that I was upset. I prayed so hard that night for my Dad to be ok. We went back on Saturday and he wasn't much better. He told me that he loved me. I told him that I loved him. Again it was so hard not to cry. We had joked previously that no one wants a bunch of bawlers at their bedside. As I sat there holding his hand I prayed for God to give my Dad his love, to feel peace and to be fixed. I have no idea whether any of it happened. I know that God didn't fix my Dad.
On Saturday evening I text my Dad telling him that I loved him so much and that I was praying for him. I wasn't expecting a reply but he did reply. I cried so hard because I knew that this would be the last text that I would get. I still have his text on my phone but I can't read it yet. It makes me cry so much. I love my Dad and he is the best Dad ever.
On Sunday 15th we all went to the hospice. We moved Dad into a private room. He was in so much pain but he had been able to eat some grapes, so I thought that we had got lucky and God was actually doing something. But Dad didn't get any better from that point. Mum and I stayed at the hospice that night. I didn;t want to leave him. He shouldn't have to do anything on his own. He thanked me for staying and said that he loved me and gave me a kiss. Mum and I swapped shifts in the night so that she could sleep. I held his hand.
On Monday 16th he wasn't able to stand by himself anymore because he just wasn't strong enough. He was all bone. It was so odd. It had all happened so quickly. He only went in for pain relief.
Dad started to become restless and wanted to go to the toilet but he wasn't strong enough to push the wee out. So the nurse wanted to put in a catheter. She said Icould stay in the room but I said to said that I would leave, so he could have his dignity. Mum went in at that point and I had breakfast that the nurses gave me. Once they had got Dad dressed, I went back in and we were all talking. Dad wanted to be in the chair so we got him in it. Dad was very restless. He wanted to be out of the chair and it took a lot of nurses to fight him back into it. The nurse had previously explained that towards the end of life people get extremely restless and start to fight it. This was what we thought was happening to Dad and it was heart breaking to see. This was my Dad. I wanted to fight for him but there was nothing that Icould do.
Dad was sedated because of his pain, so they gave him some stronger pain killers. Dad didn't speak again. He didn't smile again. He didn't laugh again. He didn't tell us another joke. I was holding his hand all the time and talking to him. I told him that everything was going to be ok and that it was ok. At 6.58pm my Dad stopped breathing. He was so still. He took his final breath seconds later and a huge Dad shaped hole has been left. I wish so much that he would come back and fill it; that this nightmare would end and my Dad would be alive and well. I miss you so much Dad. xxxxxxxxxx
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