The old man requested this Judy Collins cover of Pete Seeger's song be played at his funeral about a month ago. Ah, he was well into his sixties folk :-).
His funeral was last Wednesday and leading up to it I was dreading the whole thing. In fact when we parked up behind the hearse outside the chapel and the funeral directors got the coffin out I was really paniky and freaked out, but halfway through the service I felt sad but somehow serene. If he was there in spirit then I think he was telling me it was OK to move on, let him go, and not to be too sad. I'm going to miss him loads though, even though he was house bound in recent years he was still a big part of our lives.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Dad
My dad died peacefully on Tuesday 13th December, 4.30 PM. He was 65. It was only the week after his birthday and on his 65th birthday we all went round and he told us (my sister, my mum and I) how proud he was of all us and his four beautiful grandchildren; we talked about lots of things (including the Tibetan book of the dead, Greek legends and all sorts) and it's just such a shock that this would happen because he was really upbeat. We talked about what he would have for his Christmas meal. (He wanted trifle!) I'd just set him up with a new digital recording box for his birthday and he seemed really happy.
He went into hospital Saturday evening with breathing problems, when I rushed in to meet him at A&E (I'd been on a night out so had to get a train and R had stepped in to help him out and persuade him he needed an ambulance) he was struggling but he was also talking about the City game in the afternoon and how crap one of our strikers was. His breathing seemed to settle although he was on O2 he seemed to barely need it. R went to get him some clothes and turn his fire off and at about 11 I left him to get some sleep just before he was moved onto a ward. When I got home the hospital phoned and told me to come back straight away. Shortly after arriving on the ward he had had a massive aspiration into his lungs, and he just never regained consciousness. We kept hoping, but in the end he was just too weak to come back from this trauma. In a way I think it's what he would have wanted, he hated being in hospital, he didn't want to end up in a home, and he kept his independence to the end, which at times was a real battle for him.
My dad had Myotonic Dystrophy; it wasn't diagnosed until he was 50. it's a form of muscular dystrophy and it was complications from this that led to his death. He had had his ups and downs with depression in the last five years due to becoming more and more housebound as the illness began to restrict his mobility and limit his ability to eat. In fact this year I was giving him half my Scandishakes (he was on Ensures as well) to help him keep his weight up. We talked about tube feeds and neck operations but he was too old and stubborn, he didn't want anything like that.
His mind was so sharp, he was a clever guy, a funny guy and he loved life. I hope the ongoing genetic research can one day eliminate awful, horrible, unfair conditions like this.
Mum and dad got divorced when I was 18 but after it had all blown over they stayed good friends and for the last years she helped with his shopping every week and they'd have a good natter.
I'm going to miss him loads and I'm really sad but I think he'd rather we remembered the happy times and I think he enjoyed life; he had great friends, family. He had two great jobs. He was a genius at micro chips/silicon chips. With his jobs / holidays he got to travel the world, he visited every country in Europe and most states in America. he got to ride the pacific highway from LA to San Francisco. He lived in Manchester and London, in London he lived in Caterham in a lovely house near the south downs with fox cubs at the bottom of the garden.
Love you dad.
xxx
He went into hospital Saturday evening with breathing problems, when I rushed in to meet him at A&E (I'd been on a night out so had to get a train and R had stepped in to help him out and persuade him he needed an ambulance) he was struggling but he was also talking about the City game in the afternoon and how crap one of our strikers was. His breathing seemed to settle although he was on O2 he seemed to barely need it. R went to get him some clothes and turn his fire off and at about 11 I left him to get some sleep just before he was moved onto a ward. When I got home the hospital phoned and told me to come back straight away. Shortly after arriving on the ward he had had a massive aspiration into his lungs, and he just never regained consciousness. We kept hoping, but in the end he was just too weak to come back from this trauma. In a way I think it's what he would have wanted, he hated being in hospital, he didn't want to end up in a home, and he kept his independence to the end, which at times was a real battle for him.
My dad had Myotonic Dystrophy; it wasn't diagnosed until he was 50. it's a form of muscular dystrophy and it was complications from this that led to his death. He had had his ups and downs with depression in the last five years due to becoming more and more housebound as the illness began to restrict his mobility and limit his ability to eat. In fact this year I was giving him half my Scandishakes (he was on Ensures as well) to help him keep his weight up. We talked about tube feeds and neck operations but he was too old and stubborn, he didn't want anything like that.
His mind was so sharp, he was a clever guy, a funny guy and he loved life. I hope the ongoing genetic research can one day eliminate awful, horrible, unfair conditions like this.
Mum and dad got divorced when I was 18 but after it had all blown over they stayed good friends and for the last years she helped with his shopping every week and they'd have a good natter.
I'm going to miss him loads and I'm really sad but I think he'd rather we remembered the happy times and I think he enjoyed life; he had great friends, family. He had two great jobs. He was a genius at micro chips/silicon chips. With his jobs / holidays he got to travel the world, he visited every country in Europe and most states in America. he got to ride the pacific highway from LA to San Francisco. He lived in Manchester and London, in London he lived in Caterham in a lovely house near the south downs with fox cubs at the bottom of the garden.
Love you dad.
xxx
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Broken
My dad's currently fighting for his life in hospital, I was with him when he was admitted but he deteriorated after he moved wards. He's currently stable but he's unconscious and it doesn't look good. Going to get some sleep and say some prayers.
Love to all xxx
Love to all xxx
Friday, December 3, 2010
Impatient at the outpatients
It's been a while. Sorry. It's not you, it's me. I've had a lot going on, and I've been unable to articulate the thoughts in my head with any degree of clarity. I can't guarantee clarity anytime soon either. But I can guarantee it will be pretentious ;-)
Dah, well, I've had been feeling pretty good about health, life and fitness for the last few months, but cometh the winter, cometh the downturn. It all started about three days before my outpatient appointment, I'd been thinking how lucky I was to avoid getting a cold what with the entire population of greater Manchester having coughs and colds, when I actually came down with a cold; for the first three days it was just a bog- standard nose/throat cold, but on the fourth day, when my cold symptoms started to ease, the virus started to move onto my chest and my rubbish CF lungs started responding in their usual way by producing the thickest, gunkiest gunk this side of the Exorcist.
By the time the outpatients appointment came it was a complete no-brainer as to whether I needed IVs, so my cannula line was fitted and I was putting the IV boxes in my car ready to get on the home-IVs bus. At least that would have been the case if my Ultrasound appointment hadn't overrun so long that by the time I'd ran upstairs (on an empty stomach, stressed, and unseen!) to the CF outpatients it was already too late to get started on IVs, Arghhh! Note to me myself and I: if I have two appointments at the same time, one an ultrasound and one a CF outpatients then definitely go to the CF outpatients first! Anyway, I can't stress enough how professional my CF team are; when I told them what had happened. They ordered me some food, got me a cup of tea and ordered my prescription ready for the next day. Also, whenever I go in and say I need IVs (admittedly not that often, touch wood ;-)) they always agree with my judgement and just get on with the whole process with as little fuss and stress as possible. Makes it a lot easier for me. Blows were down some (FEV1 2.55) as expected, but I could feel that anyway with the increase in sputum and night coughing. I was going to do some running and biking this week to help with my physio, but with all the snow and ice, it might not be the best idea...roll on thaw!
I also have some stressful things going on at work, with my mates, and with my family, but I am all moaned out, so it will have to wait till another day ;-)
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