Day 0

Day 0 - Not Good.

Started the same as every other day for the past week or so, with a long pause until everyone finally plucked up enough courage to send the first 'how's it going?' texts. Closely followed by a frantic round of exchanges to determine just how everybody was feeling (or at least a close public, read-between-the-lines approximation), how everybody slept or didn't and generally settling into the day's discomfort and worry.

Dad had slept better and woke at 02:45 to go to the loo (by himself). Got a little confused afterwards but then went downstairs for a cup of tea and another 2 hours kip in the chair. Later that morning was showing worsening signs of confusion again and sats dropped through the floor to 55 !! Karen and the carer were round and wanted to call an ambulance but Dad is desperate to stay. We all tried to explain to him that he had 2 choices - either go to hospital and get help or stay and get worse and he didn't have a lot or 'worse' left. Sneaking suspicion in all of our minds that he wanted to leave hospital so badly to come home and die but without knowing this we have to do everything that we can to help him through and Mum can't sit there and watch this happen, she's coped amazingly well so far but like the rest of us she is having her heart torn out and her mind tortured at the same time.

Anyway, ambulance arrives, sats down too low to do anything but stabilise. They get them up to 71 and off to the back of the wagon for lines and the trip to QA. Consultant Mark has been brilliant throughout as well with constant calls and advice and has arranged for Dad to go straight onto E8. Once there it is more bad news, suspected pneumonia has formed - Dad will either respond to the antibiotics and be fine(comparatively) in the morning and should survive for maybe a few weeks. If not then the rest of the weekend is looking unlikely - Grim either way :(

I make my excuses to work, just can't concentrate and really need to be with Mum or Dad. Michael at the hospital and Dad well out of it, trying to pull his lines out and throwing things around !! Go to Mum's instead and wish I could do something useful. Heather looking forward to tonight's curry so we head on back. Try to catch up on my design work, fail. Try to catch up on timesheet, fail. Sit looking confused, worrying which piece of work needs the most attention and how I will fit them all in before Monday when I am meant to be heading to Brentford until Wednesday night and then driving to Derby - Succeed !

Tony round, tandoori mixed grill for me as I haven't eaten today, save for a snack-size pack of twiglets found lurking in my pocket. Halfway through Karen calls in a state and wants me to spend the night at the hospital to make sure Dad doesn't try to escape. He's not sounding good in the background at all. Sudden panic as I have to exercise some share options today or I will lose them. Price has been dropping like Dad's sats recently but flog them anyway for a small profit hopefully. Additional panic as it looks like there was a problem with the 'Proceeds Method' and the account info or something - dunno, the info is exactly the same as the last time I did this. Email UBS - "We will respond within 24hrs" - Great. I need this in the next 20 mins so call them instead. Surprisingly managed to answer enough security questions to get through and the transaction had completed, phew !!

So, get changed, grab a pack of Dark-chocolate Hob-Nobs and jump a cab to QA - £8.60's worth if you drive the entire way at sub 30 mph!

Maurice looking composed as ever, Karen looking a wreck, Dad looking rough. Lines in, oxygen mask on and breathing like someone from the first Alien film - short, shallow pants and mainly using the abdomen.

Just discussing what was needed etc. and the dramatic change from a man that was sat on a similar bed 48hrs ago, complaining about the food, the noise the uncomfortable chairs and how is was looking forward to getting back to home comforts, when Karen suddenly thinks that Dad has stopped breathing. Karen heads for the nurses, I hit the panic button and Maurice goes for the pulse - very faint with only the slightest respiration. Girl comes in (definitely getting old!) in a grey uniform looking very worried about what she is going to find and how she was going to deal with us distraught relatives - felt sorry for her. Karen freaked and ran out of the room, can't blame her, I was nearly close behind to see if she was okay and then she reappeared and adopted the watching Dr.Who technique of fearfully peering around the corner. Grey nurse quietly announced he had gone a few times followed by no there's a very shallow breath a few times - I began to wish there was a screen somewhere with a graph I could watch instead and listen to the beep. Other nurse in blue checked the notes to confirm the 'no resuscitation' entry and they went to page the doc.

Eventually though, Maurice and myself were holding his hands praying for any signs of a pulse and we all three sat there, staring expectantly for another movement. But that was it, one of the greatest men in my life had slipped away, quietly and peacefully. No fanfare, no drama, no continuous flat-line signal, no wailing or gnashing of teeth, just quietly drifted off. Dad won't be cruising to Heaven on a big, noisy motor yacht, all you'll hear is the gentle slap of the water against a wooden hull, the soft splash of an oar or maybe the contented flap of canvas as it catches the wind.

Safe journey Dad.