Steven pictured with his Mum and Dad as they were having treatment for Non Hodgkins Lymphoma and Stomach cancer. Mum and Dad are now re-united in heaven. God bless them.
God bless you. I lost my Mum seven years ago and my father one year ago, both to cancer. My Mum held on to the last second taking eighteen months to pass from diagnosis in order to see her granddaughter born; she passed a few weeks after holding my daughter. I was not there when Mum passed; I was working away and am ashamed that I arrived home after she had gone. I now realise it wasn't my fault as the private emergency work I did for REMS would not allow me to leave my post and I had a family to support. It was only later that I found out the boss of REMS would not cover my post as he had Jujitsu to go to on Sunday, disgusting! I deeply regret not been with my Mum and Dad at that time; it was not much earlier that I’d been stitched up in a similar way by the management at Yorkshire ambulance service which I had dedicated myself to since 1991, but that is another story; and boy is that a story of deceit, intrigue and back-stabbing. I have it all recorded for when I can afford to fight my abuse by the service in court (if any good legal folk are reading this and would like to take it on, I would willingly split the winning damages straight down the middle, my half I shall donate to Cancer Research after costs, I would imagine it could be a 7 figure sum)
My Dad was now alone and extremely lonely but as a gym member he had a great network of friends and his new granddaughter made him so happy.
When Dad was diagnosed in 2016, we were in denial. I told him we would fight it with him and I supported him, driving him to all his chemo and radiotherapy sessions; alas, he passed away later that year a month before Christmas. The way he went was upsetting. We spoke and he wanted admitting into Rotherham Hospice where he could die pain-free. He wanted pain relief to the extent of euthanasia. As his only son, we had our last loving moments with each other and he had put his plans in order. I loved my Dad much more than even I realised and when he was gone I felt alone, even though I had a loving wife and beautiful daughter, we supported each other. It has only been a few years but I still cry, thinking I could have done more; I know I could not stop his death or lengthen his life, but the feeling will never go. His cancer was a small stomach cancer but the surgeons would not operate as there were cancer cells present in the peritoneal fluid and they classed that as if it had spread. I am a paramedic and an engineer, I argued that they could do a peritoneal wash to flush the cancer cells from the peritoneal cavity and remove the tiny cancer surgically. A few years earlier I had an English Bull Terrier that had a necrotic bowel and was told he may not live, the vet surgeon removed the affected bowel and kept my dog anesthetised for a week and my dog made a good recovery, that was in 2008 and he lived another eight years, only to pass the same year as my Dad.
Why can a small stomach cancer not be operated on if there are cancer cells in the peritoneal wash? I bet if I had paid a surgeon to do what my dog's vet did, my Dad, my daughter's Granddad, would still be here. He was 75 years of age when he passed and was going the gym weight training and doing cardio until a few months before he passed, he was strong as a bull and had fabulous aerobic capacity with a strong heart, so was fitter than most people to operate on; but the NICE guidelines allowed him to die. My dad had a fantastic pension fund and was very comfortable; I think that as NICE guidelines are skewed by government money-saving policies in the UK.
My Dad's passing gave me the push to start writing and I found writing my first thriller, Cure, very therapeutic. I also feel comfort in the fact all my author's profits from the book sales go to Cancer Research.
I miss my Mum and Dad, but I hope their passing was not for nothing. God Bless you all.