angelgirluk Posted November 10, 2004 Posted November 10, 2004 Well Smedley, some people find this a comfort and write things here because they want to and even if you knew were dying, I doubt that you would stop writing stuff on here either - you'd probably post a message on here telling us all, which would be fine, and we'd respect that and help you as much as we could with kind thoughts and support. Enough said - please respect this is a very upsetting subject which needs to be delt with carefully so it is best to think before you write something on this particular thread, yeah! Cheers mate!
angelgirluk Posted November 10, 2004 Posted November 10, 2004 LOL @ "You're standing on my balls"!! I like it!
Angel05 Posted November 10, 2004 Posted November 10, 2004 I know that in the past some people who have known that they're dying have written notes diaries made scrap books or even written letters to loved ones etc... My Dad lost his life to Cancer and theres one thing that i would have loved him to have done for me... Written a Wedding speech for me... Just so i knew what his thoughts were... and to know just how proud he was... My Mum tells me how proud he was even now... I was always Daddies girl so you can imagine when your that close it really does hurt... I will never stop missing my Dad... As i've gone through my life without him there's been so much i have wanted to tell him... Even wanting to know his thoughts an opinions on certain things... Life can be so unfair... I was told the best die young... How true... He was only 57yrs but lived his life to the full... He was a great bloke and i am very proud to have been his daughter for 24 yrs The first time he went into hospital... he couldnt breath properly so they had to put a plastic mask over his face for the oxygen... He laid there in pain asking me if he looked silly... I tried so hard to stop my laughter... With a little smile i replied 'Dad you got to be serious' He replied back... 'I know but do i?' with a smirk i said No My Dad always said... 'If you dont have a sense of humour whats the point in living!'
Guest Pauly Posted November 10, 2004 Posted November 10, 2004 Originally posted by angelgirluk LOL @ "You're standing on my balls"!! I like it! I smell Billy Connolly.
igm1 Posted November 10, 2004 Posted November 10, 2004 Originally posted by Pauly I smell Billy Connolly. yup I wanted to see who would notice that nicely done I would spend my time writing a few songs, attempting to meet the surviving members of led zeppelin and eating as many sunday dinners as I can before I die.
angelgirluk Posted November 11, 2004 Posted November 11, 2004 Hi there Angel05 We have similar stories so it seems (regarding our dads). I only lost my dad in May this year and at the time I was 21. He had cancer too but only found out a couple of weeks before he died. It's a long story, but in February he started with back pains, quite servere. One of his friends run him to the doctors in the car because he was in so much pain and out of the house at the time - he just couldn't walk. The doctor told him it was Sciatica and to return to the surgery in 2 weeks time to see how he was going. She gave him some coproximal and that was it. He wasn't even able to get onto the doctors couch to be examined properly, this is how bad he was back in February. As time went on he got worse and so did the pain. But the doctor persisted in saying he had Sciatica and that it would go as fast as it came. I don't know hoiw he did it but he went to the surgery twice more and was given coproximal again and again! In April he was paralised and the pain was beyond anything he had been suffering before, I had never seen anyone in as much pain before in my life. It was heartbreaking. My mum was in Newquay looking after my sick auntie who is dying of cancer. She was only given until April this year to live and so my mum obviously wanted to be there. Everyday when we spoke on the phone she asked if she should come back, but I thought I was coping well with dad and the doctor said it was "Only Sciatica" and neither me or my dad wanted her to come back and miss being with her sister if anything happened to her. Dads pain was so bad this one day that I had to call the doctor in to see him. She was really upperty about being called out even though we now had a long list of other things that were becoming more and more noticeable. He hadn't been to move his bowels in almost 4 weeks, his urine was very cloudy, he wasn't eating properly, his skin was dry and flakey, his mouth was constanly dry etc etc etc - the list started to become endless, yet she didn't once suggest him having a second opinion. That night, he couldn't even lean forward for me to place a bucket down in front of him to urininate - this was more than Sciatica. It was 12:30am and I called my mum in desparation as I didn't know whether to call for an ambulance or the doctor. Between us all, and much to my dads reluctance I called for an ambulance. How they got him out of the house I will never know because the pain he was in, the slightest movement was more than just painful. We arrived at the Northen General @ about half one in the morning, and he was placed on the corridor on a trolly for 2 hours, before they could put him in the emergancy bay. Doctors popped in and out and gave him an oxygen mask to help control his breathing and the pain. I don't think they could give him anything else until 9am when the 'real' doctors if you like came on. The night staff were run off their feet with drunken yobs and over dosed teens - all self inflicted, while my dad probably needed their help a lot more at that stage!! We didn't know when he was going to be seen properly - it was a long and worrying night. I don't know how either of us did it. I stayed awake with him all night holding his hand - it wasn't without it's troubles though. He still needed to urinate from before we had left the house which he had to do in one of those bottles - however that wasn't even as easy as it sounds. It took 2 doctors and myself to help him because of the pain - I can't express how disturbing all this was. Morning (well, 9am) came and we'd not slept a wink. The change over of staff had meant that finally my dad would be seen by people who could help him. He had all kinds of internal and external tests run, plus an X-Ray. By mid-day we had found out that my dad didn't have Sciatica, but a BROKEN LOWER BACK! The shock of it!! Of course they wanted to know how he had done this and asked if he had fallen or anything like that. Well, he hadn't - so the next thing was to find out how this had happened. After these results, we ended back outside on a corridor for 3 and a half hours. It was 3pm the following day that my dad was moved to the Huntsman building, as they were going to have to keep him in. He insisted that I should go home and get some rest, as I had called mum to tell her everything and she was going to come back the next day. During the night, they admitted him onto Brearley 2 at the Northern General where he stayed for three or four weeks. He had CT scan, an ultrasound, the lot in his time on Brearley. The results of these tests combined showed that the break in his back was caused by a CANCEROUS TUMOUR WHICH HAD GROWN AT THE BOTTOM OF HIS SPINE AND COMPLETELY FRACTURED HIS SPINE. It didn't end there... this was a secondary growth.. so where was the Primary?! He underwent more tests to try and find the Primary cancer(s). I can't expain the whirlwinds that were going through our minds, and I dread to think what was going through my dads. While he was in the hospital I was taken aside with my mum and was told that they were only talking a matter of weeks, not months before he would die. I feel the sickness rushing back as I found out about this. Where should I put myself? What can I do to stop this from happening? Should we tell him? How can I keep this from him? How can I go back onto that ward and not show the sadness on my face????? He had a biopsy on the tumour at the bottom of his spine and radiotheropy on it too up at Weston Park. That was another joke, his treatment lasted 20mins tops, yet we were sat waiting for the run-around ambulance to come and pick him back up and take him back to the NGH for 4 hours!!! He was feeling sick after his treatment, sat in a very uncomfortable wheel chair and needed his painkillers. He was on the stongest Oranmorph (basically liquid morphine) that they could offer him, and was having it at regular intervals. He had now missed two of his daily doses and was really starting to feel the pain. We kept ringing the Northen General and they told us that an ambulance/bus type thing was on its way, but it had been on its way for 2 hours at this point. People were coming and going from the reception area and we were still there. Luckily we had got dads notes with him and so the nurses at Weston Park were able to give him some morphine which started to settle him a little. The cleaners even started to clean up round us in the foyer, we had been there that long. A few days later my dad was moved from Brearley 2 to the Macmillan Unit for Palliative Care, which is in the grounds of the Northern General but is a completely separate building - very nice indeed. It is very much like St Lukes Hospice. Dad didn't think of it like that at all - not because he didn't want to admit it or anything but because he truly believed he had just been moved onto another ward! He had his own room, shower room and french windows which opened up onto this beautiful garden. This was great because it was May and the sun was out and the birds and the squirrels kept coming onto the garden. We often took him out onto the garden in his wheelchair - he loved that. He even started wheeling himself out too once we had helped him into the chair. We have some nice memories of sitting out there with him. One particular day was a Sunday afternoon.. he had a lot of visitors, family and friends and I had never missed one single day with him since he was admitted into the hosptial. It was glorious sunshine and we had a picnic. The squirrel came to us to be hand fed etc and it was just so lovely. That night when we took him back inside, he was tired but had enjoyed the day and as usual we left by telling him we loved him and we'd see him tomorrow etc and he said the same in return. The next day we were called by the Palliative Care Unit to say that he hadn't had such a good night and that they hadn't washed him or shaved him as he needed to rest. They were ringing to tell us so that we wouldn't be shocked when we went to see him. We were on our way when I got a call on my mobile telling us to get there ASAP as he was deteriating fast! WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!? We don't have a care so we were having to get buses or taxis if we were lucky enough (the money spent on taxis was crazy - money we hadn't got/couldn't be without really). We jumped in a taxi and when we got there my cousin was standing over him crying (she works at the hospital). He looked like he had already slipped away. My mum took a cool flannel and damped his face and he came round as lively as anything much to EVERYONE'S surprise!!! He looked at the clock and said to my cousin "It's 12:30 shouldn't you be getting back to work?" - she had been popping into see him during her break most days. We were all so amazed as he has been unconsious according to the hospital! She took his advice thinking he'd be ok, but quietly told us she'd be back as soon as she had squared it with her boss. He chatted to us for a few minutes, telling me he didn't feel poorly just very very tired. Being brave and not wanting him to see my fear, I told him "Well, you have a little sleep then and we'll be here when you wake up.." he took my advice and we said we loved each other etc and he went to sleep. The only times he woke up were when he was in a state of delirium. Screaming for water, not knowing where he was or who we were, feeling trapped and trying to get up out of his bed to escape - he thought we were all keeping him there against his will as he didn't know where he was or why he was even there. Mum and I were alone with him at this point and it was in the middle of the night (one night during such a long week, where we didn't sleep at all, and I mean not once hour between us). He was trying to get out of the bed and was surprisingly strong for somebody so ill. He put up a good fight as we tried to calm him down and get him back into bed. We had to press the buzzer for assistance as he was going to fall off the bed if we wasn't careful. People were rushing everywhere and they sedated him. In the end they had fitted a cathetar (if that's how you spell it) and he was on dyamorphine to the highest degree. BUT they wasn't feeding him or giving him any fluids at all. I asked them about this but they said I should just continue wetting his lips and inside his mouth with this sponge they had given me, on like a lollipop stick. No wonder he had woken up the night before screaming for water "Ice cold water" - god bless him, it was liked watching a man who had been out in the desert for weeks on end without water watching him gulp it down. It was scary, as he could have choked or shocked his system with the coldness of it the way he drank it. He snatched the water jug off me and drank from it, until I took it away from him, in fear of him choking. He told me he apprecaited it and at that point I do think he still knew who I was - thank god! It was a heart breaking time and writing this epic(!) is just awful but I needed to write it. It was on the Friday morning at 3am (after we had urgently been called into the unit on the Monday morning) that he finally passed away. Mum and I were both with him, and I was holding his hand. I wouldn't let go, not even after he had died. I felt him turn from a lovely warm feeling to stone cold. I won't forget that feeling. The shock, the sadness it's all still very much here. It's still very raw indeed. I haven't even gone back to work yet and this was 28th May 2004. My auntie blames me and says I didn't do enough for him, but the truth of the matter is that I did more than she will ever know and my dad knew I did my best for him. I took time off work to be with him and help him at home (I still lived with my parents when he was ill, now it's just me and mum), I washed and dressed him each day, did all the shopping, bill paying etc and was there when he needed me the most - at the very end! The death of my dad is hard enough to accept without the strain of my auntie who is also my Godmother (we were close!) blaming me for the most unbelieveable things. Where was she throughout all this?! I rest my case! I am also fighting against the doctor who insisted that my dad had Sciatica too which is also very stressful. I don't want compensation, I want justice for my dad and will refuse compensation even if it is offered my way. How many more people is she giving wrong diognosis to? I know of one other person who lives locally who was told by the same doctor that she had Sciatica and she ended up in the NGH for over 12 monts completely paralised!!! Total neglect! The pain of losing someone so close and watching them suffer and being there till the end is something nobody can understand unless it has happened to them too. Just before I was born my mum and dad lost my elder brother David in a road accident. He was 17. He is spoken of daily and I feel I know him so well, yet I never did meet him. You see.. as long as a memory lives on, I guess the person does too, inside your heart and you can tell people who wasn't lucky enough to have known your loved ones all about them and share your memories. Now, I won't share mine here today as I have written more than enough already... but it's a nice thing to do. And I agree with Angel05 when she writes about wishing her dad had written a wedding speach or something like that... still he'll be there, somewhere - somehow!!! God Bless them both!
Martin_s Posted November 11, 2004 Posted November 11, 2004 I don't think there's a heck of a lot anyone can say to that... *hug*...
angelgirluk Posted November 11, 2004 Posted November 11, 2004 Thanks for the hug, I can tell you it was very much appreciated after writing that.. I feel all churned up inside now!
angelgirluk Posted November 11, 2004 Posted November 11, 2004 Hi Alan (this message was too long to return it as a PM and I don't have your email address) Thanks so much for the lovely, touching words you wrote in your PM. Yes, you will definitely be missed but DON'T give up... "Where There's Life, There's Hope" Remember that!!! It does hurt me as the child of my father who is no longer here with me, not to have him around to talk to, to ask advice, to tell him of the things I have done or am going to do. But the thing is, I know it isn't his fault and that he might even be listening to me somewhere up above if I talk to him. So I do... I don't always get an answer but it helps me and I feel a whole lot better once I have got things off my chest. Maybe, (if you think it right) you could write several little letters for your daughter. One for her 18th birthday, one for her 21st and maybe a speach if she was to get married! Explain a few things taht she might be too young to be told right now, express your feelings of love for her etc. I was so lucky to have had my 21st with my dad. I was 21 in October of last year. We wasn't going to do anything really because money was tight, but somehow in the end, we had a family meal (14 of us including godparents) at Napoleons Casino restaurant at Owlerton. It was expensive but so luxurious! The service was amazing, they even laid napkins on your knee!! I have a couple of very special photos of me and my dad that night and a whole night full of beautiful memories. I was lucky to have shared that last birthday with him, and lucky that it was such a special one for me being my 21st. This year has been hard. It was his birthday in September and mine a week later at the beginning of October. I wasn't looking forward to my birthday like I have every year before, and on the day I can't say that it even felt like my birthday even though my mum had taken me down to London to spend some time with my brother (half brother) - they really tried their best to make it special, not excluding the memory of my dad of course, but they tried to take my mind of it as much as possible - it didn't work. I keep going to the doctors for another note to keep me from going to work. I am beginning to feel like they think I am taking the **** now if you like... and that I should have been back long ago - but I can't. I tried. I went back for two weeks and kept breaking down on the shop floor (work in a TJ Hughes). I kept making big mistakes involving cash which was bad too. The aftermath is hard, there's no point telling you otherwise, and you'll know yourself after losing you mother. For me I have the extra stress of the battle against the surgery and the GP who gave wrong diognosis and the battle with my auntie. Even though I know what she is saying is a load of **** and bull, it hurts me so much to think she can say these things and also say these things to others. I am going to the doctors again on Monday but I'm getting worried now as in January my 6 months will be up (being signed off work) and I will be expected to go back, but I can't go back there. I don't want to go back there. So now I am frantically looking for other work, which is hard as almost everything is part-time which is one huge factor why I can't go back to Tj's (16 hrs a week = £72 a week). At 22 I need more than that. I have had to postpone my wedding in 2007 as my cash flow is virtually nill! Enough of my moaning, you have enough on your plate. Seriously though, don't give up Alan - "Where there's life there's hope" and if you like, in one of these letters to your daughter, you could give her my email address - I doubt I will ever change it. Maybe one day I will hear from her. She can ask me advice if she needs it on anything. On how to cope without a dad.. whatever!! I'd be only too happy to help Alan. Take care and keep in touch - think positive and let me know how you get on!! Best Wishes x Claire
stwar Posted November 11, 2004 Author Posted November 11, 2004 stey hard girl it took us 4 years and we won at the european court of appeal keep fighting
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