On the 22nd of May this year I had a phone call from my Mum. A call that has changed my world. My sister had gone to check on Dad as he didn't turn up to my nephews game. Mum was in Auckland with friends celebrating a birthday.
When my sister found my Dad he wasn't in a good way. I'm not going into that, needless to say an ambulance was rung and Dad was taken to hospital.
As I rushed out the door I grabbed my handbag, a jersey (hospitals are cold) and my phone and charger. I arrived before the ambulance because I drove so fast. I waited and waited and waited. My husband arrived and after waiting some more we final got called into the family room. I knew it was serious then. I had sat in that room once before when we lost my cousin. The Doctor came. Total us Dad had a major brain aneurysm. On a scale of 1 to 5 it was a 5. It was bad.
I knew then, that we had lost him.
My sister and her family arrived. And we told them the news. The shock of finding Dad along with this was shattering for her and I couldn't take the pain away. I felt helpless. There was nothing that could be said to soften it and as a big sister I wanted to make it better. But couldn't.
The Doctor then said that the scan of Dad's brain was sent to Wellington hospital and they thought they could help so he was going to be flown there. We phoned and told Mum is was bad and perhaps we should try and get her flown directly here, but it was a scramble and she was booked to come home so that's what we ran with.
I pushed to go with Dad on the plane, and the Doctors, nurses and flight crew all warned me we might lose him en route. Could I handle that? I agreed I could. I didn't want him left alone. We finally left for the airport in the ambulance. The team were so kind and supportive. They got me coffee when we got there and loaded Dad. It was the simplest of things that were so kind.
From where I was in the plane the only place that I could touch Dad was his foot (which he would have hated) but for me it was connection. I just wanted that connection. Once airborne, for the first time I got lost in my thoughts. I couldn't heard the crew and doctor just the beeping of the machines. Looking out the window, watching the world go by and knowing that this was likely a pipe dream. But all the while touching Dad, willing him to be okay. But knowing. Knowing it wasn't ever going to be ok.
I don't recall ever flying into Wellington at night but it was stunning. How could that be? All those people in their homes with the lights on? Safe and well. While my Dad was lying there. Hard to reason, even harder to fathom.
We arrived, got the ambulance to the hospital, a blur of faces, introductions. A hug from the flight crew, a hot cup of tea from a nurse. Sitting in the waiting room while they got Dad settled. Watching. Waiting. Thinking. Too much thinking.
I knew Mum and my sister and her husband were on the way. It was late and I don't remember when they arrived. We could only have two in with Dad at any time so when Mum came in I took her down and they talked Mum through it. Release the pressure on the brain, scan, waiting.....waiting.
The hospital staff were amazing they tried to get some accomodation for us but it was late and there wasn't vacancies close by. I just wanted to stay with Dad, so the kind nurses popped me in the corner of Dad's room with a chair and a blanket and I stayed with him. Didn't sleep but closed my eyes and listened to the them as they cared for Dad. With kindness and respect. They probably knew what in my heart I knew. Working through the process.
The next day it was great to have my husband arrive with Mum and my sister and brother in law were a team. It really felt it was like we a unit. We got away a couple of nights and the simplest things brought joy. Watching SWAT, eating Winner Winner. Walking in Wellington to get groceries. A phone call to the kids. A shower. Clean clothes. Making a plan about changing cards. Who was getting coffee. Being together was all we could do to hold it together.
We took turns to sit with Dad, talk to him, hold his hand and hope he could hear us tell him we love him. We had a few of days like this but as I feared once off the meds, Dad was unresponsive.
We were moved so we could all be with him in the same space. We talked, joked, played cards, phoned our families, cried, hugged, drank coffee and tea and forced ourselves to eat. Mum and I stayed with Dad for the two nights on fold down couches. I woke to hear them both snoring at one stage and it made me smile, wondering who was the loudest. A symphony of snoring.
I can't tell you how amazing the staff were. They looked after us as much as Dad. What a hard job to do, see people at their lowest and care for them. I recall one nurse Rachel who had looked after Dad when he first arrived. She popped in and gave me an almighty hug and I cried so much I wet her shoulder! She was such a lovely person and her kindness really overwhelmed me.
And then. On the 29th of May 2021. We all felt it. We knew the time was close. We held on to Dad and each other. And wept.
During this week I have never felt so calm. Yet so broken. I knew I had to step up. For Dad. I guess there are times in your life where you can rise to the occasion to be the person you need to be. Even if it hurts. And is scary. And painful. Even when you just want to sit in a dark room and cry. But I couldn't. I didn't want to let Dad down.
I worried for my kids. My Sister and her family. And My Mum. Once my husband was there I knew I had back up but I needed to see it through and I did.
It was the week from hell. And reliving it now is terribly emotional.
However, I need to write about my journey with grief. I've tried to bottle it. Push away people who will try and unlid it, but I need to do this for me. Write it down. Get a handle on it. Use it to help myself understand where I am at. Why and how I can walk around with my it's all okay mask on and feel like I'm crumbling inside. This is my journey. On Losing my Dad.
