First diagnosis (10)

The final few weeks were a blur. They consisted of me working, flying, and being at home. I can't say it didn't do my head in. All the while I had to be the strong one. Mum turned to me for big decisions, and all the while dad faded away. I remember the last time I spoke with him. It was a Sunday afternoon. I had driven to the hospital to say goodbye before I returned to Brisbane. He seemed okay. Mum had just finished trimming his nails and made one bleed and he was pissed. He smiled when he saw me but then rested his head again on the pillow.
He had deteriorated alot in the last week. Now he wore a diaper and had a urinary catheter in place. He was confined to bed and was on a constant rate of Midazolam and Fentanyl as a CRI as his seizures had become more frequent and pain had been harder to control.
All I wanted to do was grab the soccer ball like we use to do and go to the park for a kick of the football, just one last time. He had taught me how to value life. He showed me how to stand up for myself and always back myself. He taught me humility and how to stand by my mates. He was street smart and respected.........
I remember just after he had passed away, a stockbroker said to me " You are a very rich man"....My reply " I'd give it all back just to have him in my life again."
Mum and I spoke for a while. Time was getting close, I was going to be late if I didn't leave. Just then two of dad's school mates visited.
It was the next thing that happened that has remained with me.....He just started to cry inconsolably. It grew until with every sob you could hear shear genuine pain in his voice..."I'm dying, I thought I could beat it." I don't know if what triggered it. Maybe it was his friends visiting, maybe it was the thought that he wasn't going to see me again or the thought that he was human and he wasn't going to make it.
All I wanted to do was hold him and say it was going to be alright..... I stepped out for some air....I no longer cared about the plane.......
When I returned he was composed. His friends had left and he just looked at me, kind of like he was embarrassed.
I sat down and just talked with him, about nothing in particular. The truth was he didn't want to hear it and I didn't want to speak about it. At the end he grab my shoulder and drew me in close. His voice quivered, fighting back the tears, as he shook my hand and placed his hand around my other shoulder. "Be seeing you son. I'll be here when you get back. Have a good week and take care...."

First diagnosis (9)

I remember the final weeks like it was yesterday. It was a cycle that consisted of me working, then jumping a plane to go home after a 14 hour shift. Once home I would set about fixing what I could fix at home, typical handyman stuff, as well as shopping and being a taxi service. I remember the day it happened. I had been called in to work. It was a Sunday and it had been busy. I had started at 8 am and finally finished at 10. I remember my partner coming to the clinic to pick me up and simply handing me the phone as soon as I exited the doors to the clinic. "You need to ring your mum."

My heart sank. All I could think of was the worst...I dialled the number. When she answered there was a calmness and almost a relief in her voice. "Your dad's had to be hospitalised." All I could say was "okay". She elaborated further. "He was cleaning his teeth this morning at the sink and had a seizure. He stood at the sink, had muscle tremours and frothed at the mouth. When he came to, he became violent with me." I knew what that meant. "I called the ambulance and he's been admitted to hospital. I'm here with him now. He wants to come home."
I stood for a second in the darkness and quiet of the car park. "No." was all I could muster.
"He won't talk to me. He's been swearing at me!!"
"Put him on the phone." When he said hello his words were slurred. It sounded like he was drunk, even though he was not sedated.
"Dad, you need to be here. Mum can't take care of you and you remember what we talked about." He didn't say a word. He knew, I knew, this was the beginning of the end. Fuck, what am I talking about. It was the beginning of the end when he was diagnosed. I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The next voice that spoke was mum. "When are you coming home ?"
 "I'll be home tomorrow. Get some rest and I'll see you then."

I couldn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned and finally paced the house. I arrived at the airport picked up my car from the long term car park and went to the house first. It was quiet. Mum was already at the hospital. I dropped my bag off and drove to the hospital, all the while thinking about what had to be done. There was a mountain to climb in things to do but it would get done.

When I arrived at the hospital mum was sitting in a chair next to dad's bed and dad was lying on his side. He was sleeping. He heard me enter the room and opened his eyes. "You didn't have to come. What about your job?" I choked back tears, swallowed hard and said "It's okay old man, I had to come home and see you pretending to be sick." He smiled.
I sat down and chatted to them both, just about the day to day things. A short time later lunch arrived. Mum prepared dad's meal. I fought back tears as she cut his meat, and vegetables and fed him. This was over. It was just a waiting game now.....
I couldn't stay any longer. I had to get out. The room had become small and I felt sick. Mum walked me to the car after dad had eaten the smallest amount of food.
"What will you do?" She hugged me tight.
"Well, I'll potter around and do some odd jobs and make dinner. You stay and ring me when your ready to come home and I'll pick you up."
She turned and went back into the hospital and I got into the car. Finally, I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. I just sat and cried....."Why?"
After that I couldn't spend a long at the hospital. Certainly not the hours that mum spent beside dad's bed.
I think at that moment I did and had let him down. I could not face him for long periods. This was the man that I loved and respected with all my heart. Alot of the times we did not see eye to eye but he was smart, intelligent and worked hard throughout his life, and this was the way it was to end, in hospital, bed ridden........

First diagnosis(8)

I helped dad dress the next day. It was soul destroying, watching a man I admired and loved with all my heart struggle to put his shirt on. I helped with the shirt buttons and shoes. The car trip to the doctor was quiet. Dad sat mute in the front seat concentrating on not showing any signs of pain. Mum did not say a word.
When we arrived the doctor came out. I wasn't expecting to be involved but he insisted. " I see two people at a time. Your mum and dad will be first and then I will see you with your dad".
Mum and dad were in the office for all of fifteen minutes. When she emerged she had been crying. The doctor came and ushered me in to his office. "Your mum tells me your a vet ?"
"Yes." I felt uneasy. I wasn't here to talk about me I was here to talk about my dad.
He closed the door. "So I need to know from you, what are your expectations and wishes with your dad ?" I was a little taken aback. Mum should of discussed this with him. "Your mum's not dealing with this well and has said that you will address all of this"
"Okay." All I could think of was "fuck, why me!!!Why do I have to be the one to do this?....This is going to be hard!!" After a minute I composed myself and spoke. All the time thinking "do not cry....You have prepared yourself for this....."

"My big concerns are his pain relief. He is in pain and I need him to be pain free...." The second thing is that I need you and him to understand is that when it becomes too much for mum that he will be admitted into palliative care. Mum is not well enough to lift him in and out of the bath or bed for that matter. That is my wish, not mum's and I take full responsibility for that. Whereas I know he could not help getting cancer, he has ignored all recommendations during the time he's had it and now it's too late!!" My voice was breaking. All dad did was stare straight at a spot on the wall. He would not look at me. His lips pursed with his trademark sunnies on his face. He could of been a statue...

The doctor paused and then said. "Well, I agree. His pain relief is an issue. I think we should use fentanyl patches, oxymorphine, and prednisolone. As well I would like to place him on maxalon and omaperazole." He made me feel at ease and a calm came over me. What's more he made you feel like you were involved in the decision making process.

"As to the second request, I have no issue with that. When it comes to a time that your mum can't manage your dad that will happen. Your dad is suppose to see a radiation oncologist tomorrow for an appointment." I rolled my eyes. Fucking leeches...There was no hope, he was dying and they were trying to flog a dead horse......
When thinking back on this moment, I love the fact that I work in an industry that does not prolong pain and suffering. Practicality is out the door when it comes to humans and medicine........