Nursing and loving my dad at the end of his life
Being a nurse for 20 years and a carer before that, supporting patients is what I do. It’s instinctive. It’s part of my every day. It’s what I’m most passionate about. I love taking the time to know everything is done right, all is okay, and nothing is missed. Providing exceptional care, is why I’m a nurse, it’s a deeply fulfilling profession.
That’s why I find palliative and end of life care such a humbling experience. Helping patients live as comfortably as possible in the time they have left, requires emotional sensitivity, honesty, clear communications, hyper vigilance and a calm and practical head.
It’s important to talk to the patient about what to expect, how to manage physical symptoms, considering their wishes for the type of care they want, where they would like to die and providing emotional support for family and friends. We are space holders, helping a person to die well.
But when it’s your own dad, I found it such a difficult journey to navigate. At first, I was very practical, offering support, attending oncology appointments, taking in all of the information and helping my dad process everything.
Until that moment of hearing the softly spoken words: “Your cancer has spread Mr. Harris, the treatment isn’t working, I am so sorry.” It felt like a cold mist. Out the corner of my eye, I could see my dad turning to me for support, for reassurance. I couldn’t look, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t take in what was being said. My head was spinning. How can this be.
My gorgeous dad was desperately willing me to help him. I suddenly realised, I couldn’t lead by my profession. I was his daughter and he was my dad. The man who had supported me in every venture of life, the man who helped raise my children when I found myself alone. The man who I dearly loved was going to die.
I watched him slowly deteriorate over the next few months. My larger-than-life dad was withering away into a frail cancer victim before my eyes. I felt like I was dying alongside him. How was I supposed to go on living when his life was being cut short?
“I want to die at home” he said. I was determined to fulfil his dearest wish. I put the wheels in motion. I organised the council run care at home services four times a day. They would support with personal care. But, in reality, it simply wasn’t enough.
During a global pandemic, and with a severe lack of funding, I found myself in a desperate place. The home care system was in crisis and falling short. The lack of continuity in the carers being sent caused great anxiety. Rushed visits and sometimes even forgotten visits was soul destroying. I watched my dad lying in bed, dying, and it was then I made the decision to put my work on hold, and nurse my dad at home.
I nursed him and cherished him as a daughter. I gave him all of me. I held his hand, I stroked his hair, I watched his chest rise and fall, I told him how much I love him. For 8 days I hardly moved. I watched and loved until he took his last breath.
Thankfully, because of my nursing experience in palliative care, I was able to be at my dad’s bedside during his final journey, had I not, I’m convinced he would have died in hospital against his wishes.
At Nurse Call we provide a holistic approach to palliative care, looking after your physical, emotional, psychological, social and other needs, and offer enhanced nurse support, if required. Most importantly of all, we give our patients a voice and choice of the type of care they want to receive. For advice, please call, Vikki Harris or Carol Bell on: 0141 639 1802.
