Losing Dad......... Part III

While Mum worked her last few weeks at school, Dad threw himself into his favourite charity work. He was a home visitor and called round for an hour or two to people who found it difficult to get out of their homes, the elderly, the sick, people recovering from surgery. He was often gone for hours at a time.

When Mum eventually retired from her teaching job they decided to spend a couple of weeks visiting my brother in Madeira. That was to be their last holiday.

The only thing that needed getting used to was the stoma...when to empty, and the loud gurgling sound his stomach made. But once Dad explained, no-one noticed...it was an ice-breaker at times. But the stoma bag itself was undetectable.

Weeks went by, but one early morning Dad woke in pain. His leg felt very stiff and he couldn't bend it. As he undressed they noticed that his leg was very swollen. A visit to the doctor shed no light on the matter. By the end of the day not only was his leg swollen, but also his penis and scrotum, the only way he could sit down was to perch on the edge of the chair.

The doctor gave him a letter to go to hospital...it could be a lymphatic blockage? No-one had an answer, and he was sent home with strong painkillers and an appointment made for two weeks hence.

He could only sleep for short periods, he couldn't sit down and spent hours propped up over the back of his chair. He was in agony.

Mum had to go on a weekend school trip that had been arranged months before, so I stayed with Dad. I couldn't bear to see him in so much pain - he was now on morphine- so we rang a private clinic to see a Consultant. Someone somewhere had to find out what was wrong. The appointment was for the next morning.

We spent all that evening talking and reminiscing, in fact we talked until the early hours of the morning. We talked about his childhood (he was discovered as a newborn on the steps of a church in a box), his aspirations, about the Hungarian Uprising, how he escaped into Austria, and was hired by the US Army as a cook.

It was in Austria that he came to live as a lodger in my Grandmother's house. My mother was a young teenager at the time, and as he was seven years older he looked upon her as a young sister, bringing her chocolate (very hard to find just after the war) from the American camp. My Grandmother who was a excellent cook taught him all she knew.

After two years, hearing that England was looking for foreign workers to rebuild Britain he decided that was the place to make his future life.

A year later Mum followed him, having fallen in love with him and not being able to bear the thought of losing him. After a year living hundreds of miles apart ( Dad in Abergele and Mum in Haslingden) and communicating by letter they met again when Dad went to Catering College in Manchester. Another year later they married in Manchester.

Just over a year later I came along.

The next morning we took a taxi to the clinic with Dad half lying on the back seat. The Consultant arranged for tests and scans to be done later that morning at another hospital...it's amazing how quickly appointments can be made when you pay money upfront! So wrong.

The scans revealed a growth/mass in his lower back, later to be confirmed as secondary cancer. He was booked in to stay for a few days (which stretched into two weeks) while they tried to find a solution plus to manage the pain. Unfortunately, the tumour was entangled inbetween nerves and arteries and muscle, and surgery impossible.

Mum and I visited every day, and cried together at home. Soon Dad was back home, still unable to sleep longer than two hours at a time and unable to sit. He mainly lay on his bed.

We had sold our house by this time and before moving to Ireland had a month wait until the legal contracts had been drawn, so I moved with my three youngest children to my parents house. This was wonderful for Dad, he loved his grandchildren so much, and they took his mind off the pain.

But time flew by, and our moving day was upon us. Reluctantly I got into the car for the long drive to the ferry after long hugs and kisses and tears, and more hugs. Mum and Dad waved until we were out of sight.

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You can find the first parts of this story here:

https://steemit.com/story/@katdvine/losing-dad-part-i

https://steemit.com/story/@katdvine/2nttq1-losing-dad-part-i

https://steemit.com/story/@katdvine/losing-dad-part-ii