My dad was admitted to hospital at the beginning of September with high infection levels and suspected gallstones. We were told four days later he had kidney cancer which had spread to the liver and spine, that he had no treatment options and that he had "short weeks to months" to live. He died three weeks to the day of this initial diagnosis. It has been a week and a half since he passed away. It was a massive struggle getting him home, but we managed it. He got home three days before he passed away, unfortunately he was bed bound and not concious alot at that time, but he was home and I know he knew it as he could still nod and respond partially. He was only 69 and I am 27.
It feels unreal to be even typing this story. Only just over a month ago did we think it would be something treatable - even if it was a worst case scenario and turned out to be cancer we never expected it to be like this. He had blood tests in July and was given the all clear. How can this be?? Something surely should have shown up? When he went to the doctors complaining of a bad back they self-referred him to the physiotherapist- an appointment he was not alive to make as he deterioated so quickly. It's all happened so fast.
In the first week he seemed his normal self... in the second week he seemed to be sleeping a lot more but we were still able to have discussions and do the crossword everyday... the third and last week was the worst.. on the Sunday we had a big chat, which felt very final. On the Monday he seemed confused and much worse somehow overnight... on the Tuesday worse again... on the Wednesday worse again, on the Thursday so bad we were advised to stay overnight at the hospital as he may not have lasted the night... But he did and the Friday we finally got him home... Early Monday morning he was gone.
His death was a powerful experience with the family and cats at his bedside at home. I am glad about that and it was what he wanted. But it was harrowing. I worry I will never be able to forget some moments of that. I cared for him all night every night that he was home on my own. I basically didn't sleep or eat for those days. I got through it by thinking to myself when he was in hospital that I could still see him and talk to him everyday at least. When he deterioated I survived that by thinking that I can still at least care for him and do what was right for him. When he passed I was still in carer mode and asking my mum if she thought he needed more mouth care or lip solve or thinking I could still see him breathing etc. How could he be breathing one minute and not the next?
Sorry for the ramble, just so much has happened in such a small space of time. I know it has happened and am trying to process it and bear in mind his words of wisdom as to how to cope. I'm not sure how I feel about anything most of the time and I don't know if I can ever get over this. He was the corner stone of my family. I have a constant headache. I am going to have to go back to work soon and leave my Mum and Sister at home.
Its all just too much to comprehend.
