I lost my beautiful dad on 18th February this year and I don't know what I'm going to do without him. He died at home, in his bed, I'm only 27 and I feel I've been robbed of so many years.
I was the youngest child, my dad was 76.
He was diagnosed with stage 4 incurable but treatable non small cell lung cancer in December, they delayed his immunotherapy up until late January stating his infection markers were up so they couldn't do treatment yet. His scan in December showed cancer only on the right lung, he also had a collapsed lung, by mid January he had another scan and it had already spread to his liver and spine. I believe the delay in treatment is what contributed to his early death, I don't blame the hospital but I wish more had been done. They dragged so many things out that didn't need dragging out because when he did get his first and last immunotherapy treatment his infection markers were still up, they accepted it was likely the cancer doing that. He was one week away from getting his second treatment when he died.
On top of that his normal pharmacy was dispensing him the wrong medication from September. He had high blood pressure and was on Atenolol and Amlidopine for years with no issues, then a few weeks ago my mom checked over his medication (my dad just used to get his prescription delivered and take it when he was independent so we didn't need to do anything) she noticed the outside box said Atenolol but the inside said Alluprinol. We investigated this and they said someone had dispensed the wrong medication and that there would be a formal investigation, they managed to calculate from the dates of the medication that it was in September it started, they said the side effects would be low, but Atenolol was his main blood pressure medication of 100mg so surely going without that for so long unnoticed could cause damage?!
My dad deteriorated so quickly in the last few weeks he had virtually no appetite he would only be eating soups and a bit of toast or chips here and there, the night before at 11pm he was walking to the toilet himself, he ate nearly a whole bowl of rice pudding and drank water like he was desperately thirsty, by 4am he had tripped in the hallway and fell and couldn't find the strength to get up so me and my mom had to help him back into bed, we asked if he needed an ambulance or anything and he said no he just needed to rest because he felt weak.
By the next morning the nurses came to drain his pleural fluid as they had been doing every other day and he had gone downhill again, wasn't very talkative and wasn't paying attention so an ambulance was called, I was so scared to come out of my room because I could hear the paramedics saying his BP was something like 30/40 and that he was approaching end of life, palliative care was here too.
He died around 6pm before that he was staring in the corner of the ceiling and holding out his hand, he kept speaking to someone aswell, and about 2 weeks leading up to his death he was getting confused at one point he didn't know where the toilet was, he was calling for his friends (who are alive) in his sleep, then he started doing what I think was nesting, planning things like giving his car to his best friend, he only put insurance on it for 6 months etc. The night he died we had family over because we knew it was happening, and we knew he would want them there. He looked so peaceful and just like he was sleeping, I gave him so many kisses, I helped the private ambulance people put him into the sheet and into the bag and into the van.
He always said he didn't want to die alone, and he didn't, he died with family around him, he wasn't afraid of dying, he accepted it and sort of embraced it whilst me and mom were in denial. He used to tell us "I'm dying, this is going to kill me" and we would deny it and state no it won't, immunotherapy has so many positive reviews, he will make it.
Then on the day of his death he said to me "I'm not going to make it" and I said "I know Dad" and he looked up at me so surprised and smiled because he realised I had finally accepted that he was dying, and I believe that's when he truly relaxed and decided it was time to go.
I just feel so lost without him, I cry and then I'm okay, a bit numb, if I laugh about something I feel guilty, I feel like the world is going at 2 miles per hour and I just don't see the point in carrying on. Our house feels so empty without him and I know he would never ever hurt me or anything but I'm so scared to sleep alone and I have slept in my parents bedroom with my mom since he died.
Sorry for the long post but I just needed somewhere to let it all out. Do things get better? Will I ever feel normal again? Everyday I wake up and I feel like the energy has just left me.
I just want my dad back, but I know he wanted to go. He said "I want to go home" so many times and when we said "You are home" he would say "No, home" and look up. He had such a great life, he was so healthy and so fit for his age right up until the end of last year.
I feel like I've been robbed of so many years, I am the only child of his who hasn't had any children yet and he didn't meet a boyfriend.
I just need this to get easier.
