Six weeks ago I had a Mum and Dad. Six weeks ago things were looking brighter.
Five weeks and six days ago I left work at 4.00pm and drove to the Red Lion B&B in Whissendine. I was stopping off just for one night on my way to Equinox Festival near Grimsby. We had free tickets as Pete's band Cress were playing at the festival and I was really looking forward to a proper weekend of music and my first real festival since 2018. I really wanted to get to the B&B before it got dark, but the traffic on Cathedral Road held me up by 30 minutes so it was pitch black upon arrival.
I checked in and quickly ordered some food before the kitchen closed. Vegetable wellington, new potatoes and salad. I had a large glass of red and was sitting alone in the large dining area of the pub when my sister rang.
Nothing to worry about, she said, but Dad's in hospital. He's fine though and should be out tomorrow or the next day. She proceeded to tell me that at around 6.30am Mum had heard some strange groaning sounds coming from Dad's office. She went in there to find him collapsed on the floor covered in blood with blood all over the floor. He'd vomited up last night's dinner (spaghetti bolognese), followed by loads of blood clots and loads of blood. Mum called 999 but they said it would be an hour before they could get an ambulance to him.
She called Karen and she came over and helped to clean Dad up and monitored his blood pressure while they waited. The paramedics checked him over and all of his vitals seemed okay but they wanted to take him in for an endoscopy. Dad went willingly and Karen and Mum had to wait for an update. In the meantime Mum rang the caravan park in Lytham that they were due to go to the next day and cancelled their stay. At around 6.00pm Dad Facetimed Mum to say that he was feeling fine. They had found a bleed in his stomach and dealt with that and he would be discharged the next day. He told her to call the caravan park and rebook it. Mum wasn't sure but he was adamant. So she called and rebooked. A couple of hours later he called to say 'actually, I don't think we should go, call them to cancel it and we'll have a nice week at home instead'. I just assumed that a doctor had given him a stern telling off.
It was 9.00pm, so I sent him a WhatsApp saying that I was glad that they had sussed what the problem was and that I'd speak to him the next day. I moved into the main part of the pub and had another large glass of wine and went to bed.
In the morning I checked my phone and my WhatsApp message was still unread. I knew then that something was up, but went downstairs for my breakfast leaving my phone in my room.
Shortly after I went back to my room by sister rang to say that Dad had taken a turn for the worse and was in intensive care on a ventilator. She told me that I needed to come to the hospital and then said actually, just go to my house, Pete's there, they're not going to let us in to see him so there's no point coming to the hospital.
I checked how far away from Wigan I was and it was a three hour drive. Karen told me not to get in the car until I had calmed down and got myself together. So I had a good cry and walked into the village to visit the local flour mill and chatted to Nigel Moon the miller. He was a tonic.
I loaded up the car and set off telling myself that I just needed to focus on driving and not think about anything else. It was Emma's birthday and I'd already sent her a birthday WhatsApp, but updated her on the situation too. After 90 minutes I had to stop at the services. Karen had left a message asking me to come straight to the hospital as they were going to let us go and see him. You know it's bad news when they are allowing you a visit in the middle of a pandemic!
I followed the satnav to Wigan and then spent half an hour getting in the wrong lane and going round in circles trying to find the hospital. I was also running on empty but luckily one of my wrong turns landed my in Tesco petrol forecourt, so I quickly bunged £20.00 in. I finally found the hospital then spent another half an hour trying to find somewhere to park. It was a nightmare. Every road was permit parking only and the hospital car park didn't have a spare space anywhere. I was getting more and more upset so parked up and rang Karen in a right state. She told me that there was some on-street meter parking just after the hospital and that she'd meet me out there and direct me. I found a space immediately, thank god and we walked into the hospital. As we walked she told me that Dad had gone into cardiac arrest in the morning and that it had taken them 17 minutes working on him to get a pulse. As soon as I heard 17 minutes I knew the prognosis wasn't good.
When we got to the relatives room the nurse told us that Mum had already gone in. So we put on our PPE (full gown, N95 face mask and surgical gloves) and went into ICU. I gave Mum a huge hug, she looked so tiny sitting there. Dad was intubated and wired up to a million machines. He looked very peaceful and we sat with him for a couple of hours talking to him and stroking him and holding his hands. There were tears and snot bubbles but there's not much you can do about that behind a mask.
The doctor told us that they had done a scan on his brain, heart and abdomen. The brain and stomach were okay but his heart wasn't working normally. He told us that because of his age and the amount of time taken to resuscitate him that he had a 1 in 50 chance of surviving.
We drove home and I had a glass of wine and ate the sandwiches and crisps that the hospital had provided for my packed lunch. The rest of the night is a blur.
The next day the doctor called to confirm that Dad had aortic stenosis. Basically one of the valves of his heart was very tight and that was restricting the flow of blood to all of his major organs. So if he came round he would have to go to the cardio ward where they would work out the best way forward. They told us that they would try to reduce his sedation in a day or two and wait for him to come round.
For the next 6 days we weren't allowed to see him but rang the hospital each day once or twice for an update. The first time they tried to reduce his sedation his blood pressure rocketed so they had to sedate him again. They tried again the next day and said that his blood pressure was still high (but normal for him) and they were waiting for him to wake up. The next day he still hadn't woken up and had started to have seisures so they were giving him epilepsy drugs. The next day he still hadn't woken up so they told us they were sending him for another CT scan.
The doctor called us to say that there was severe swelling on his brain and that even if the swelling went down the damage was already done. They wanted to do an EEG the next day to check for any brain activity and told us that we could come and visit him again.
When we arrived at the hospital late as we were held up by dickheads panic buying petrol and the queue was blocking the main road. They were still doing the EEG so we had to wait in the family room and they brought us a nice pot of tea. The doctor came in to meet us and talk about Dad and we discussed DNRs. We all knew that Dad has told us a million times that if he wasn't able to live his full life we should just put a pillow over his face.
We put on the PPE again, god those gloves make your hands sweaty. Dad had grown a load of stubble since we last saw him and was in the middle of seisure. It was the most distressing thing I've ever seen. He looked that every sinew of his body was screaming and his eyes kept rolling open and it looked as if he was pleading with us to make it stop. We were all crying and talking to him and stroking him. After twenty minutes of this horrendous fitting my sister flagged down the doctor and begged her to do something to stop it. She apologised saying that she hadn't noticed he was fitting and that when she checked on him before we came in he had been lovely and calm. They quickly gave him some more drugs and five minutes later he relaxed again. I'm trying to wipe out that image from my brain as it was so horrible and traumatic, I'm getting palpitation just thinking about it.
We spent a few more hours with him and played him some music on his earphones, then headed for home. It felt like we were in some kind of surreal nightmare. The doctor had told us that we might not get the EEG results until Monday and so we decided we would employ distraction techniques for the weekend.
The next day at 1.00pm Karen arrived to take us out for a nice walk when the phone rang. It was the doctor asking us to come in to the hospital to discuss the EEG results. I felt sick. We got in Karen's car, luckily they'd given us a free parking permit for two weeks which allowed us to park anywhere in the hospital car park, even in staff parking.
The doctor and a nurse came into the relatives room to break the news that there was no brain activity and that nothing more could be done. They said that we could go and see him for a while and then, when we were ready, they would remove the breathing tube and let nature take its course.
We went in knowing that we were saying goodbye. They had set an iPad up with Classic FM on for him, so that was nice. We spent a couple of hours with him and then they asked if we were ready. We said we were. Karen and I sat on the other side of the curtain whilst they removed the tube but Mum sat by his side.
Without the tube in he instantly started snoring, so he was more like his old self we joked. He maintained his own airways and seemed to be breathing really well. The nurse said it could be quick or take some time, there was no way of knowing. The worst thing was knowing that Karen and I were on one side of his bed just praying that he would die quickly whilst Mum was on the opposite side begging him not to leave her. It was heartbreaking. After an hour or so the nurse said that she was conscious that we hadn't eaten and would we like her to organise some sandwiches and cake. We had no idea what time of day it was or how long we had been there as you can't look at your watch when you're covered in PPE. We said yes and asked if they could clean Dad up and give him a shave whilst we ate, he'd grown some really long whiskers in a 8 days.
We ate the food and then suggested that Mum might like to go in and sit with Dad on her own for a little. She agreed and off she went. Twenty minutes she came back to say that she just couldn't stop crying and it was all too much for her. The nurse popped in to say that they could provide us with blankets and pillows if we wanted to stay the night or they would just call us as soon as there was any change. Mum said that she'd rather go home. They also said that if we brought in some whisky the next day they would dab it on a cotton bud and let Dad have a 'last taste'. We liked that idea.
The nurse told us to take all of the leftover sandwiches, cakes, crisps and fruit home with us as they couldn't eat it and it would just get binned. I grabbed four bananas to put in my bag when she came flying back in and said that Dad's blood pressure was now 41. Karen started putting her PPE on, I raced to the loo and when I came back Karen was already in and Mum was halfway through putting her gown on. She ushered Mum in and came back for me. When I got to his bedside he was already gone. He was peaceful and clean shaven but had lost all of his colour. Karen says that he took his two last breathes as she arrived, so at least he wasn't alone. I think he'd waited for us all to leave the room.
We stayed with him for a while whilst the nurse offered us a chaplain, no thanks. Then offered to take imprints of his hand or foot prints, no thanks. Then placed some crocheted blankets and hearts all over him. Karen wanted to take them off again but I didn't want to appear rude. Mum was in hysterics, it just broke my heart. Eventually we decided it was time to leave. It was 9.00pm. Somehow Karen managed to drive us home and Mum and I sat in silence interspersed with sobbing. I suggested that we light a candle. Mum liked that idea. So we lit a candle and put on the hearth and Mum turned the radio. Bloody Smooth FM. Every song was a tearjerker. I've never liked that Lady Antebellum song Need You Now, but my god it set me off, especially the line 'Another shot of whisky'. Eventually I said Mum, for god's sake turn it over. We put Radio 2 on to be greeted with the words welcome to our James Bond special programme No Time To Die. FFS.
I went to bed and had very little sleep. My eyes just kept leaking.
In the morning Karen forced us out for a walk around the Flash. It was a lovely day. And the three of us walked along, enjoying the sunshine but shellshocked. I don't know how it came about but we invented this thing that if you saw a squirrel, you shouted squirrel and then we had to have a group hug. We had a lot of hugs.
The funeral was wonderful and it was great seeing all of the relatives that we haven't seen for year. Even cousin William came. He's 23 now; he was 8 when I last saw him. James Grundy the Tory MP came and could hardly speak he was so overcome with emotion. Dad's neighbour Arthur and Alex got really emotional too. Bob Hamilton gave a lovely speech and the celebrant did a great job. It was standing room only, so he had a proper good send off.
And my hands are aching now so I'll say good night. SQUIRREL!