I woke up early again on the 18th – 2.30am. I did not manage to go back to sleep. Hopefully this is not the start of a trend I thought.

Mum and I left for the hospital at 8am. We were told that a doctor from the oncology department would speak to dad today (although we did not have a time). They start at 8am.

We left separately, as I would be heading to work at around 9am. This ‘Haze’ doesn’t seem to clear. Driving round to the hospital, I felt numb and incredibly worried about what the next few days would hold. Tomorrow was the big one – MDT meeting. Which meant a more detailed diagnosis – stage and outlook moving forward in respect to his condition.

I got to the hospital first. Dad was sitting in his chair, in good spirits. Chatting, joking, laughing and questioning where his morning paper and coffee were. Mum arrived shortly after, we were all trying to be positive and smiley. We managed to be those things as best as we possibly could.

9.20

I left the hospital. That walk. Out to the car. Leaves me with a sense of anguish, upset and foreboding. That last one worries me. I drove round to work, 5 minutes away, still in this foggy haze. Mixed in with a few tears for good measure on this occasion.

I walked into the office and asked if my boss had a minute. I explained the current situation. The information that we currently have and the information that was to come over the next day or so. He said that he was sorry and that he would look into the procedures in respect to leave and time off. I was also told, that I would be having a performance review with HR on Friday (I think that was the day mentioned anyway). To be honest, I was more than a little shocked that in this moment, he decided to divulge that particular piece of information.

I went and sat at my desk next to a colleague of mine who was also in during the half term break (needs the days for his upcoming wedding/honeymoon – fairplay!!) He asked how I was and if everything was ok. I told him. People tend to struggle with what to say – understandably!! He was and has been as supportive at work as I could hope for – as have the rest of the team.

I left work at around midday and headed back to the hospital. The doctor had not yet been to speak with my dad, from a selfish point of view, I was pleased about that.

I’m not totally sure that I should have been driving at this stage. Blank stares and an inability to concentrate on what you are doing/seeing is not exactly the best recipe when driving.

Dad was having his lunch when I arrived. His appetite unaffected by his condition and the tumultuous nature of the preceding days. A positive – you take them where you can. We chatted, did puzzles, crosswords and quizzes during the afternoon. An enjoyable few hours all things considered.

Two doctors from the oncology department came to speak with dad later that afternoon. Their visit was not really a positive one, if anything it just caused more concern, stress and uncertainty. Partly due to the fact that mum and dad were unsure on what the doctors originally said regarding dads condition. Mum thought it was just on the Liver. Dad thought it was on the Liver and Pancreas. The doctors confirmed that it was indeed on the Liver and the Pancreas.

That was a big blow from my perspective. I had been clinging onto the fact that my mum had been right. She wasn’t. Two vital organs – not just the one. The playing field had just shifted. The fight was going to be harder than anticipated and the prognosis potentially harder to cope with.

The other aspect of their visit that created a greater level of confusion and annoyance was the fact that they were not even sure if dads ‘case’ was down to be discussed at the MDT meeting the next day. This was not good news and we all became a little fractious.

We had been waiting since Friday afternoon to have any sort of news and the MDT meeting was the key to getting more news and getting the ball fully rolling in respect to treatment etc. It was now Monday afternoon and we had just been told he may not even be discussed at the MDT meeting. WTF!!!!

Thankfully, they managed to ensure that he would be discussed. The additional load of the potential lack of inclusion on the MDT meeting list lifted… And breath.

Kels arrived at around 5pm, it was nice to have her there. Smiling. Her smile helps and makes things seem better.

A nurse informed us that they would be moving dad to a different ward (Phoenix Ward – an appt name – I thought) at some point that evening/night.

Mum and Kels left at around half 6/7. I stayed. The football was on – Chelsea v Man U in the FA Cup. When ever dad and I are together and the football is on. We watch it. I thought it was important to keep a sense of normality and continuing to do the things we enjoy together. We chatted about the current situation we found ourselves in whilst we waited for the football to come on. I was trying to be positive, we didn’t know the severity, the stage, if it was operable, if it would be a case of we can treat this and everything will be fine.

We watched the first half. United were 2-0 up going into half time. Dad was tired and he needed to rest and gather his thoughts I guess. After all, it had been a stressful day, with some disconcerting news thrown in for good measure.

Standard procedure upon leaving the hospital had been resumed – Emotional ‘Haze’ like walk out of the hospital, followed by a drive home where the ‘Haze’ refused to dissipate, then to communicate with dad via Whatsapp once home.

19 February 19 – D Day.

Again, I woke up at 2.30am and did not get back to sleep. I broke into tears and sobbed. Kels comforted me and tried to calm me down and get me to relax. I did not find the fact that I could not get back to sleep overly surprising. The racing thoughts, emotional turmoil, worry and stress regarding the day that lay ahead were enough to keep anyone from sleeping.

I headed round to the hospital for 8am again. I grabbed myself a Tea and dad a Coffee, along with a newspaper. He again, appeared in good spirits. Calm, I would say. Which is a lot more than I can say for myself at that particular time. Mum arrived a little later. We were hoping to speak to someone regarding dads discharge later that day. As a doctor had said the day before, that once the meeting was complete and he had his medication sorted, he could go home. He really wanted to get out of that hospital.

I headed to work at around 10.15.

I walked into the office, opened my laptop, booked the rest of the week off and promptly exited the building.

Back to the hospital.

I felt sick and had been feeling sick all day. I had the shakes, shivers and sweats. Amazing what worry, stress, anxiety and a lack of sleep can do to the human body.

When I arrived back on the ward, mum and dad were noticeably more stressed. Nobody had been to speak with them.. not a doctor, a nurse or anyone for that matter. Dad would need a doctor to sign his discharge letter and inform the pharmacy of the medication that he required. The pharmacy request more often than not takes hours. Therefore, we were incredibly keen to get that particular process underway. So, I went to find someone to talk to. A lady on the ward informed me that the Matron would come round to speak with us.

The Matron. What an absolute C**K. Rude. Obnoxious. Condescending. With a complete lack of empathy and understanding of the situation we were facing thrown in for good measure. This guy, may have been excellent at his paperwork and organising his staff. But. There is no way, that, that man should have any contact with patients and people in a hospital. He made my dad angry and upset. This made me angry, upset and ready to throw the guy out of the window (dads bed was next to the window). The Matron was unhelpful to the extent that a goldfish probably could have done a better job at making us feel better about the situation we were currently dealing with.

We all calmed down after the Matron left. Mum and I headed down to the canteen for lunch. Lasagne and chips. I barley ate half of it. I felt nauseous, woozy and clammy. The MDT meeting was due to finish at around 2pm. It was now 2.05pm. We headed back up to the ward and thank god we did. We had only been back on the ward for 5 minutes when the oncology nurse who had been in the meeting came round to speak with us.

Now. The minutes that followed have been unquestionably the hardest of my life.

Mum sat in the chair, dad was laying on the bed and I sat on the edge of the bed. The nurse explained that the Cancer was inoperable. That it was at Stage 4. That this was not a curable case. That without Chemo he could have up to a year. That the next step would be a biopsy to determine the type of Cancer and what type of, if any, Chemotherapy would be on offer.

I immediately broke down, I cried and hugged my dad. He consoled me. How? How was he consoling me? I look back on it and think that it was all wrong. I should have been consoling him. This was happening to him. Yet he took the news far better than I did.

The three of us went for a walk round to the cafe to have a cup of tea and to get away from the ward for a bit. It was so incredibly hard. Yet, we all kept it together. Chatted and discussed things. His ability to deal with what had just happened was nothing short of remarkable. I am still astounded at my dads response. Hero!!

I texted Kels asking when would she be finishing work. She called me at around 4.10. I gave her the quick fire, key bullet point summary of what we had been told by the nurse. She said she would be at the hospital as soon as she could be. When she arrived I went down to meet her. As she approached me, the tears started to roll down my face. We hugged and she also started to cry. She was struggling to come to terms with it and make sense of it as well. We went up to the Ward and she embraced my dad with tears fresh in her eyes. Dad went off to say his goodbyes to some of the people that he had been on his previous ward with. The people that he had been picking up and making laugh during his time on Kingfisher Ward.

Whilst he was gone, mum, Kels and I chatted a bit, but I broke down again. Uncontrollably. I punched the side of the bed and lashed out at the chair I sat on whilst I sobbed. The anger, the hurt, the sense of injustice (he had a quadruple heart bypass just 3 years ago), the devastation, the fear, the disbelief, the sorrow.

When he returned all there was to do was to wait for the meds. Most pertinently the Oramorph (Morphine) that he would now be taking daily. I did not see any point in hanging around just waiting for the medication, So I went to ask a member of staff if I could collect them later. We would all go home and I would come back later to get them. They gave me a telephone number and asked me to call at half past 8.

Right, lets get home.

It was strange having him home. Since Friday, the day of ‘the news part 1’ he had been in hospital. Now he was in my house. The reality of the previous 5 days was now starting to become just that. Reality. Not a dream like state.

It was Champions League night. Liverpool v Bayern. Dinner was Dominoes. It felt like any other family football night, except it wasn’t.

Friday February 15th to Tuesday February 19th was a whirlwind like no other. A life changing period. The days, weeks, months and (hopefully) years ahead had a different perspective now. They would be challenging, they would be at times hard to deal with. But. They also needed to be enjoyed.

We need to, as best we can, remain ‘US’!!