My Week

Was it a good thing to come up here? I think perhaps it was right to do that and in a way I would have kicked myself if I hadn't. I found it amusing for one of my friends to say that I had "now done my bit" which I found amusing and disturbing at the same time. What he meant was that I could perhaps stop kicking myself for not being there for dad whilst he also knew that no one had come down and seen me :-) But at the same time it belittles the act too.

I would have felt bad if something had happened this week and I hadn't made the effort. In a way I feel I should be here more but it really isn't practical. We would all like to "be there" and yet in reality that isn't possible is it? Ideally I'd like to be here for my mum and dad for as long as it takes - it isn't going to happen.

I feel my mum's pain and my dad's confusion and upset and the wider family - especially his two brothers, one older and one younger. I feel somehow that I need to do more but you know what, I also have my own things to do as well. The trouble is that my mother and brother (and sister-in-law) too are treating dad like a kid - I've "had words" about that and suggested that they treat him like the head of the family he is and give him a bit of respect. He doesn't need to be told what to do - he needs to come to these decisions in his own time and when he needs to. He doesn't need an invalid bed now - he may do later, leave the suggestion that we will do what is necessary to deal with his condition and respect his wishes. Everyone wants to advise and push him and yet he needs to make some decisions in a logical fact based way. I know he shouldn't drive the car and so does he but he needs to arrive at that decision based on facts about his reactions, his body movement and his strength - he knows he can't walk down the garden let alone drive a car but he doesn't need to be told.

So - I've done my bit and I know I've got to come up here again and perhaps only a few times more. I've no idea whether I'll be here at the end - that's not my choice, that's the predicament I am in because it wasn't me that moved up to this area of England. It's desolate farming country a million miles from the sort of countryside I live in. There are some amazing houses here but they are rotting away and yet it must have been some place given the scale of the buildings I saw on my walk today - including a house that has to be 17th century that is just what I have always dreamed of owning - a place probably older with turrets that appears to have grown organically and has bags of character. The trouble is - what on earth would you do up here but be a farmer? There really isn't much else I can see to do.

So I've got mixed feelings - it could be the last time I come here I suppose. However, I hope not but I don't think I could hack the day I had Tuesday - my poor old mum and brother had a terrible week with dad. Every now and then dad goes off somewhere in his mind and drifts off and back again but normally he is tired and I'm concious that perhaps I can only just be there and around for them - maybe that's all that is needed - just to be present.

Oh hell what do I know :-) Mind you sat in the bar tonight and there was a conversation going on following a wake for this chaps mother who had just died of Pancreatic Cancer and they mentioned Steve Jobs and Patrick Swazy and of course that just re-enforced what will come in the near future. I don't see dad living beyond Christmas unless he has a very strong will and starts to take on some sort of diet and treatment that may help - I find it unlikely that it will happen I think the decision to die has been made.

I should have been at the Guildhall this evening and I've only just thought about that. It would have been a wonderful event but I'd rather be here - it's dad's birthday tomorrow and so that is important I think. Oh well - I'll be home tomorrow night and I think I will be quite morose and quite upset when I get back there - it's been a strain and it's been emotional :-) I hate what cancer has done to my dad and the frail man who stood there today and at one time he was almost child like and you never want to see your dad in anything other than how you remember him.

More later when I get past the upset. However, I'm not as cut up as I could have been I think.