Final Journey

It never ceases to amaze me, the way life can change in a matter of hours. Or rather, the way life can end in a short space of time.

I had made plans to see my birth father, N, on Thursday. We were going to buy some Chinese food and spend the day with his wife who’s recovering from surgery at his home. His boss decided that morning, he needed him for a fairly important meeting. Which left me at a bit of a loose end. Atlas and Sil were at work. So, I invited myself up to Pops so I could use his PC and internet connection.

The day before, he talked about finishing the radiation treatment. The waiting was driving him nuts. Both Atlas and I agreed if those were his wishes, so be it. The consultant convinced him to keep attending as he only had 6 more sessions. The meds were making him feel weak, giving him insomnia.

He had gone for radiation Thursday morning, but for the first time needed a wheelchair. After a month of only sleeping 2-3 hours, he slept the night before, and after breakfast. We were pleased that he was able to sleep, but worried that he wasn’t eating. As a diabetic, it’s really important that he had regular meals.

When I came over that afternoon, I brought him some chocolate cake to tempt him. He was having a snooze, so rather than disturb him, I went online, chatted to various people, thought nothing of it.

I heard a noise at about 4pm. I found him standing up by a light switch. I helped him back to bed, with some help, sponged him down and changed his shirt. Made him comfortable. I then rang Atlas. He rang me back with instructions to feed Pops chocolate and sweetdrinks, he thought he was having a hypo – a drastic drop in his blood sugar. I was trying to get Pops to have some juice when both Sil and Atlas arrived. Sil got him to have some chocolate. Pops was embarrased at the fuss, but smiling at our attempts at humour. He dozed off.

We left to have showers and eat, we returned within an hour and a half. Pops was snoring away. Atlas, unhappy at his still lowered blood sugar, sought medical advice and went off to get the means to do a dextrose drip. Pops was adamant that he did not want to end up in hospital, he did not want medical intervention. Atlas is a vet and is capable of putting in a drip. He intended to call by for a GP on his way back.

I sat with Pops. Tried to get him to drink some honeyed water. He was no longer focussing on me. I opened the window to let some air in. At one point I got up and held his hand. And then, he just stopped breathing. He just slipped away. What journey he has gone onto I don’t know. I don’t believe he went on his own though. I think that must be a post for another day.

We are still in shock. I had been making plans for Boy and I to come out and see him again in Easter and again during the summer hols. The consultant had said 12 months.

I don’t feel acute grief. I just can’t be sorry that he’s gone this way. Pops was adamant that he wanted minimal medical intervention and was not looking forward to final progression of the cancer:, unable to communicate, move about and 24 hour nursing. He was spared the indignity and suffering of that outcome. In fact, he could not have timed it any better really. The cremation is Monday morning, his service is Wednesday. I fly back to England on Thursday evening.

I really miss him.