(no subject)
i feel that i've had a complete mental meltdown.
i was feeling down yesterday and talking to one of my friends. they said 'don't worry hun, i know how you feel'
how? trust me..you have NO idea how i feel.
things from the last two and a half years since my folks were diagnosed have come back to haunt me. things, memories. feelings. they are all coming back. things that i've for one reason or another chosen to forget about or discard. but they are all here now. every bit of it.
know how i feel?
you want to know whats going through my head and what i'm feeling?
one thing that keeps rehashing is the last few days pop was here.
bob and ma came home from china on the tuesday. it had been me and pop on our own for a month, and we'd struggled. he was really down and told me he was ready to give up, i had to keep convincing him he couldn't.his weight was under 7 stone. there was nothing of him. they started him on tpn, a liquid food drip. it meant he was attached to a drip for 11 hours at a time. bit it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. i think the fact that it was the last thing they could do to make him put on weight, and after a few weeks wasn't working made him give up hope. plus the fact he was pretty much completely housebound didn't help his mental state. i thought when bob and ma came back he would cheer up. and he did, he was really happy to see them, but i think he was still mentally defeated.
the next day (wed) pop was going to take me to see the producers in london. i told him i was too tired and that we should go the next week. you don't know how much i regret that. i should have gone so much. scott came down a bit later that day and so i spent most my time with him.
thursday evening... we all sat down together and watched the run for glory programme on the bbc. we had chicken kievs with rice and salad for tea. pop got up and got his vienetta out. he had vienetta every day for pudding. scott joined him and the three of us sat on the couch together, with my mum on the other.
scott and i had an early night and i went to work in the morning leaving him in bed.
i came back on my lunch break, pop had had a bad night. it happened, he would usually have a bad few days after and then be back to being better. i got him a cup of tea and sorted bagels for me and scott for lunch, and we watched the final episode of lost as scott had been having a marathon while i was at work.
it was time to go, and as we walked past my parents room scott yelled 'bye mr a' and that was the last thing he ever said to him.
i dropped scott at the station and headed back to work.
i was doing classroom set ups, and was cleaning the board in room 7 when my phone rang.
it was bob. i knew things weren't good from his tone. they had called the emergancy doctor as pop was in a lot of pain, and that he might do better if i was there.
i asked my manager and she let me go. i remember driving home. i knew something wasn't right, i could feel it in the pit of my stumoach. when i got home the doctor had been, it turned out to be dr slemp, who was infact my dad's gp. she told him he should go to hospital where they could manage his pain better. he was refusing. bob and my mum were upset. we couldn't force him.
i went upstairs. he was curled up in a ball. he was so frail and small, as though even touching him might break him. he was screaming in pain with tears running down his face.
i told him he would be better in hospital. he said he didn't want to go. i think he knew. he knew that if he went he would never come back again.
i went downstairs, we knew he had to go in...we couldn't leave him the way he was. we could hear his screams from the lounge. i was crying at this point. i got some drugs from his giant box that he'd asked for and took them up. the chemo destroyed the feeling in his fingers, so he couldn't even pick them up, i had to pretty much feed them to him, still screaming.
as i was holding them i was crying nearly hysetically.. my hands were holding his pills and his water and i got to that stage where snot was running down my face as well as tears, but i had no hands to wipe either away. 'papabear...please' i said to him. he looked at me, then said he would go.
we knew he wouldn't be able to walk, and we needed someone to help carry him to the car, so we rang antoine, my mum and dad's best friends son who lived in a house behind us. he came running over.
we wrapped him in my farmyard blanket, one my granny and grandpa got me when i was little. i had farm animals, bob had teddy bears. when they were both ill my dad used to sit wrapped in bob's, my mum in mine.
my mum got the car started, i sorted out picking things up i thought he might need, his meds for a start. and nemo.
they got him into the front seat of the car. we set off to pmh. bob was yelling at my mum to drive faster. she was yelling at him to stop making her panic while driving. pop yelled at them both to shut up and stop bickering. and they did.they always listened to pops.
we arrived at the hospital. we didn't need a porter. we knew where the wheelchairs were kept, and all the staff knew us anyway.
we got him upstairs to the windsor ward. his second home. all of our second home. they put him in room 139. the room my mum lived in for 4 months. i dread to think how much time was spent in that room, but out of all of them it was my favourite, it had a big cherry tree outside the window.
the nurses put him on a morpheine pump and he passed out. we sat with him for a bit and realised we should go home.
None of us slept well. but we were positive. he'd had bad spells and always bounced back, he truly had the ashcroft fighting spirit. we headed back to the hospital. he still wasn't really awake. just drugged up. there were dr and nurses milling around, more than usual. mr burns, my dad's gut specailist came in to see him. he came to talk to us. everything he said was a blur..he was sitting still and all these people fussing at pops's bediside behind him seemed to be in fast motion.
he said he had seem him bad before but this was the worst. and that there was nothing left of him to fight it. that we should prepare ourself for the worst. bob asked if we should ring the family in cornwall. he said yes, they should get here as soon as they could.i left the conversation and went to his bed and sat in the chair hugging him. he woke up and starting yelling something that was incoherent and went back to sleep. i kept hugging him crying 'just keep swimming papa...just keep swimming'
we left early evening and went home. bob rang the family and fran, frin and granny and grandpa were all coming up the next morning. the hospital said they would ring us if there was any significant change.
3am the phone rang.
they told us he seemed to be deterioating and that we should come in.
bob drove us there and no one said a word.
we got there and the nurse said he had picked up a little since she rang but thought it was best to ring us.
we went in and saw him. the other nurse has been sitting holding his hand all night. she had tucked nemo under his arm so he was hugging him.
he woke up and saw us all. he looked at us all and made a grunting noise. he knew we were there. you could see that every breath took the stength of a normal person running a marathon. he had his eyes open and was struggling so hard. bob was telling him to not be scared that it would be ok, and we were all telling him how much we loved him.
his breathing got more strained until he couldn't fight it anymore and he just stopped.
the nurse went to get the dr. we were still holding his hands. the dr came in and checked his pulse. 'i'm so sorry' she said. the nurse told us it was as though he was waiting to see us before letting go. i think she was right.
we sat there with him for a while. i stroked his hair. told him i loved him over and over.
after about half an hour it was decided it was time to leave. i didn't want that to be the last time i ever saw him. i couldn't let it be.
but it was.
and nothing has ever been the same since.
i was feeling down yesterday and talking to one of my friends. they said 'don't worry hun, i know how you feel'
how? trust me..you have NO idea how i feel.
things from the last two and a half years since my folks were diagnosed have come back to haunt me. things, memories. feelings. they are all coming back. things that i've for one reason or another chosen to forget about or discard. but they are all here now. every bit of it.
know how i feel?
you want to know whats going through my head and what i'm feeling?
one thing that keeps rehashing is the last few days pop was here.
bob and ma came home from china on the tuesday. it had been me and pop on our own for a month, and we'd struggled. he was really down and told me he was ready to give up, i had to keep convincing him he couldn't.his weight was under 7 stone. there was nothing of him. they started him on tpn, a liquid food drip. it meant he was attached to a drip for 11 hours at a time. bit it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. i think the fact that it was the last thing they could do to make him put on weight, and after a few weeks wasn't working made him give up hope. plus the fact he was pretty much completely housebound didn't help his mental state. i thought when bob and ma came back he would cheer up. and he did, he was really happy to see them, but i think he was still mentally defeated.
the next day (wed) pop was going to take me to see the producers in london. i told him i was too tired and that we should go the next week. you don't know how much i regret that. i should have gone so much. scott came down a bit later that day and so i spent most my time with him.
thursday evening... we all sat down together and watched the run for glory programme on the bbc. we had chicken kievs with rice and salad for tea. pop got up and got his vienetta out. he had vienetta every day for pudding. scott joined him and the three of us sat on the couch together, with my mum on the other.
scott and i had an early night and i went to work in the morning leaving him in bed.
i came back on my lunch break, pop had had a bad night. it happened, he would usually have a bad few days after and then be back to being better. i got him a cup of tea and sorted bagels for me and scott for lunch, and we watched the final episode of lost as scott had been having a marathon while i was at work.
it was time to go, and as we walked past my parents room scott yelled 'bye mr a' and that was the last thing he ever said to him.
i dropped scott at the station and headed back to work.
i was doing classroom set ups, and was cleaning the board in room 7 when my phone rang.
it was bob. i knew things weren't good from his tone. they had called the emergancy doctor as pop was in a lot of pain, and that he might do better if i was there.
i asked my manager and she let me go. i remember driving home. i knew something wasn't right, i could feel it in the pit of my stumoach. when i got home the doctor had been, it turned out to be dr slemp, who was infact my dad's gp. she told him he should go to hospital where they could manage his pain better. he was refusing. bob and my mum were upset. we couldn't force him.
i went upstairs. he was curled up in a ball. he was so frail and small, as though even touching him might break him. he was screaming in pain with tears running down his face.
i told him he would be better in hospital. he said he didn't want to go. i think he knew. he knew that if he went he would never come back again.
i went downstairs, we knew he had to go in...we couldn't leave him the way he was. we could hear his screams from the lounge. i was crying at this point. i got some drugs from his giant box that he'd asked for and took them up. the chemo destroyed the feeling in his fingers, so he couldn't even pick them up, i had to pretty much feed them to him, still screaming.
as i was holding them i was crying nearly hysetically.. my hands were holding his pills and his water and i got to that stage where snot was running down my face as well as tears, but i had no hands to wipe either away. 'papabear...please' i said to him. he looked at me, then said he would go.
we knew he wouldn't be able to walk, and we needed someone to help carry him to the car, so we rang antoine, my mum and dad's best friends son who lived in a house behind us. he came running over.
we wrapped him in my farmyard blanket, one my granny and grandpa got me when i was little. i had farm animals, bob had teddy bears. when they were both ill my dad used to sit wrapped in bob's, my mum in mine.
my mum got the car started, i sorted out picking things up i thought he might need, his meds for a start. and nemo.
they got him into the front seat of the car. we set off to pmh. bob was yelling at my mum to drive faster. she was yelling at him to stop making her panic while driving. pop yelled at them both to shut up and stop bickering. and they did.they always listened to pops.
we arrived at the hospital. we didn't need a porter. we knew where the wheelchairs were kept, and all the staff knew us anyway.
we got him upstairs to the windsor ward. his second home. all of our second home. they put him in room 139. the room my mum lived in for 4 months. i dread to think how much time was spent in that room, but out of all of them it was my favourite, it had a big cherry tree outside the window.
the nurses put him on a morpheine pump and he passed out. we sat with him for a bit and realised we should go home.
None of us slept well. but we were positive. he'd had bad spells and always bounced back, he truly had the ashcroft fighting spirit. we headed back to the hospital. he still wasn't really awake. just drugged up. there were dr and nurses milling around, more than usual. mr burns, my dad's gut specailist came in to see him. he came to talk to us. everything he said was a blur..he was sitting still and all these people fussing at pops's bediside behind him seemed to be in fast motion.
he said he had seem him bad before but this was the worst. and that there was nothing left of him to fight it. that we should prepare ourself for the worst. bob asked if we should ring the family in cornwall. he said yes, they should get here as soon as they could.i left the conversation and went to his bed and sat in the chair hugging him. he woke up and starting yelling something that was incoherent and went back to sleep. i kept hugging him crying 'just keep swimming papa...just keep swimming'
we left early evening and went home. bob rang the family and fran, frin and granny and grandpa were all coming up the next morning. the hospital said they would ring us if there was any significant change.
3am the phone rang.
they told us he seemed to be deterioating and that we should come in.
bob drove us there and no one said a word.
we got there and the nurse said he had picked up a little since she rang but thought it was best to ring us.
we went in and saw him. the other nurse has been sitting holding his hand all night. she had tucked nemo under his arm so he was hugging him.
he woke up and saw us all. he looked at us all and made a grunting noise. he knew we were there. you could see that every breath took the stength of a normal person running a marathon. he had his eyes open and was struggling so hard. bob was telling him to not be scared that it would be ok, and we were all telling him how much we loved him.
his breathing got more strained until he couldn't fight it anymore and he just stopped.
the nurse went to get the dr. we were still holding his hands. the dr came in and checked his pulse. 'i'm so sorry' she said. the nurse told us it was as though he was waiting to see us before letting go. i think she was right.
we sat there with him for a while. i stroked his hair. told him i loved him over and over.
after about half an hour it was decided it was time to leave. i didn't want that to be the last time i ever saw him. i couldn't let it be.
but it was.
and nothing has ever been the same since.