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It is hard to know how to title this thread. I felt that some of you would like a more detailed explanation of my extended absence than I have heretofore provided. So here's the story:
My mother passed away rather unexpectedly in January of this year. I came over for the funeral and was here for a couple of weeks helping my dad and hanging out with him. During my time with him I asked how he was doing health-wise. He said that he was experiencing blood in his urine. I later learned that he had a similar episode the previous fall but it had "gone away" after a couple of weeks. Well, alarms bells and red flags went off in my head and I urged him to go to doctor. I returned to the States but maintained close contact with my dad and constantly badgered him to followup on it.
Well, he finally went to his local GP about it (and also an inguinal hernia). Blood tests followed etc. and dad was admitted into local hospital and later to a more distant hospital with a Urology Ward. Dad was diagnosed with cancer of the bladder. Further tests ensued (CAT, bone, etc.) and, for a time, dad was released home. Surgery was scheduled for late June for the removal of bladder and installation of a stoma. I had already booked a holiday for middle of August (to Mauritius but via the UK) so I changed my dates and came to England in early June to help my dad prepare for major surgery, both physically and mentally. A few days before being admitted for the surgery he was called in for an MRI. On the day of admission the doc called to ask us to come in early for a meeting. We learn that the cancer has metastasized (spread) and is now in the bone. Basically untreatable. So the health care switches from one of possible cure/treatment to palliative care where they try to treat the symptoms as they arrive and make dad as comfortable as possible with what remains of his life. No timetable was given but I suspected months rather than days or years and, I think, so did dad.
My father was very concerned about the amount of time I was spending here and was worried about my job, my business, my family. I am fortunate in that my business allowed me to continue working remotely from my father's cottage (after I put in broadband). I did go on vacation with my family for two weeks in August. Although my father wasn't well, he wasn't terribly debilitated either, at least not till the end. However there were a number of episodes and a few trips to the hospital as he suffered the various symptoms of his condition.
Throughout the entire time I was with him, his courage, fortitude and even wit and humour remained as strong as ever. He was frequently more worried about other people than himself, which was typical of him anyway, but rather amazing given his recent situation. I should hope to have such strength.
It wasn't easy watching my father die but I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else. It's an incredibly humbling experience but I believe I'm enriched by the experience as well. My wife, Sarla, was very supportive. My eldest son, Arun, (who had quit IBM to become an English as a Second Language teacher and wander the world) changed his schedule so that he could take his course in Berlin and was then intending to live with my dad indefinitely and work nearby if possible.
My father had a couple of goals in mind for these last few months. He wanted to attend the Review of the Fleet in Portsmouth. He had attended every one of them that has occurred in his lifetime. Alas, he was too ill for that. I did manage to get him down to Portsmouth for his brother's 50th wedding anniversary even if it did involve a trip to the emergency room in the middle of the night for a blocked catheter. That was just over two weeks before he died. On our return from that weekend his body started giving up and after a tormented night (Tuesday I think it was) he was admitted to local hospital again and placed in an Emergency Medical Unit (ward you go to after emergency room). Not the best place for him and it wasn't until the Friday that the doctors agreed he would be better off in the hospice. Unfortunately it seems that people don't get sick on weekends because there's no ward doctor around to sign the appropriate papers and we had to wait until Monday before moving.
Now, I always had a preconceived idea of what a hospice was and was amazed to find out just how wrong I was. This place (The Florence Nightingale House Hospice in Stoke Mandeville) was wonderful. The facilities and the people are just outstanding. Unfortunately my father's illness and medication made him pretty much unaware of anything at this point. His systems were shutting down and he was heavily sedated. My brothers (2) and I took turns overnight with him and were all there during the day. He pretty much slept for 5 days before finally shuffling off this mortal coil. My younger brother and I were with him at the end.
Sarla and Arun came for the funeral and Sarla and I managed to celebrate our anniversary in Canterbury and Dover last weekend. I extended my stay here to help my brothers with all that needs doing regarding the estate and the property.
I return on the 24th of October.
Even though I've been living in the US for 23 years now and had not seen my parents very much (every 3-4 years or so) the path I chose led me to a point where I could be here for my father when he needed me the most, which I think is most provident. Among the more desperate memories of the past 4 months I have a few gems of times with my father that I'll treasure for a long time after the bad memories have faded.
See you all soon.
Simon
PS: Please forgive me if you see this cross-posted.
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