2012 started and it was going to be a good year. We found some good tenants for our unit, unfortunately, that mean that my sister, who was living in it, had to move out sooner than expected. That put us all in a bit of a spin, because the original plan was, we move into the bus in February, and she moves into the house, and the unit gets rented out. So in a mad panic, we try to move her out and in here. The bus is not ready for us to move into, but we decided that we would sleep in there, but we would share the house for now until the plumbing is done and number 3 is registered. That way, at least, we wont have to empty too much out of it. So with less than 2 weeks before the big move, I started sorting through furniture and clothes, selling what I can and giving away or throwing away everything else. My sister starts packing things and bringing them over. Then, on the Friday before the move, (06/01/12) my dad gets sick. My sister takes him to the hospital, and he is there most of the day having tests and then told his blood was abnormal and sent home. We didn't think too much of it then, so she left him, we visited him a couple of time over the weekend. On the Monday, he had a regular doctors appointment, so Terry and I decided to take him so I could find out the results from the tests he had had on the Friday. I was shocked when I saw him, He could barely stand up and walk. He had to lean on both of us and his walking was slow and laboured. His doctor was shocked by what he saw, and said he had no record from the hospital. Dad was sent straight down to the hospital for a C.T. and I asked the hospital to send his file to his doctor. The doctor rang me the next day to say the file from the hospital had arrived and there was nothing unusual in there, he was still waiting for the blood test results from the hospital, and would let me know as soon as they arrived. Meanwhile life went on at home, and our house was getting more cluttered.
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| Storing things where ever they fit. |
Horatio was starting to wonder what was going on and we were starting to wonder if we would ever get Number 3 ready for us to sleep in. Dad had deteriorated and my sister started sleeping at his place so someone would be there with him. On Wednesday (11/01.12), I called the doctors surgery to ask if I could get dad in, because I was worried about his vomiting. They got him in straight away. The doctor told me his white blood cells were high, and ordered another blood test, promising me he would contact me as soon as the results came through. Dad was put on antibiotics in case he had an infection. Meanwhile, back at the house, things were getting even more cluttered. The move had been changed from the weekend to Thursday night and that was only a day away. Where were we going to put everything. We were not ready for another house full of furniture, but we would have to manage. Thursday morning arrived, and I called the doctors surgery and told them I was working at 11.30 and would not be available till 2.30. The receptionist told me she would tell the doctor. 11.25 a.m., I was just about to walk out of the staffroom when my mobile rang, I answered it, and it was the doctor. "hello Olga, it's ...., how are you today. Not too bad thanks, how are you. Well thank you Olga, but I am calling to tell you, your dad has leukemia, he needs to go to hospital today. I am just going to get the paperwork ready so he will be admitted straight away. Ok, well I am working at the day care centre across the road from the surgery, I can call in at 2.30 when I knock off and collect it. No, I will fax it to the hospital now and they will call you with a time that they want him in there. Please make sure he goes. I was in shock, but for some reason, the enormity of what I had just heard didn't sink in. I just went to my supervisor and asked if I would be able to keep my phone on me because I was expecting a call from the hospital, I explained the phone call I had just had, and she asked if I was ok to stay. Yes I'm fine, I just need to be able to answer the phone. I got that phone call about an hour later, telling me to get him to the hospital straight away. I called my sister, and she organised my other sister to get him, and take him to the hospital. After work, it was time for the big move. We spent the next few hours moving furniture to and from 4 different places. There was no time to stop and think. We had to get everything done and it had to be done now.
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| So much stuff |
Finally, about 7.p.m. all the furniture was moved and we were able to sit down, and think. Well, once it hit, it hit like a tonne of bricks. I think being so busy really helped us that day. It will go down as the worst day in my life so far, but also a day I can barely remember. We were all in auto pilot and that really helped us get through. The next few days were not much better. Our lives revolved around working, sorting the house out and spending time at the hospital. We took turns going to the hospital, and gave dad time between visitors to rest. He was, and still is, so weak. We were all so tired, and not taking care of ourselves. We were living on sandwiches and coffee and the stress was starting to show. Dad had his good moments, when he could stay awake for 10 to 15 minutes, and his bad patches when he could only manage about 5 minutes.
THE MOMENT NUMBER 3 BECAME GINO'S DREAM
Terry came home from work on the 15th January, and said he had been thinking about my dad at work, and had thought about naming our bus, which I was still calling Number 3, and Terry was calling "The Project", Gino's Journey. I thought about it for a moment and then suggested Gino's Dream, because my dad had always had a dream of doing what we are about to do, and also our blog is called Following our Dream. So to me, that sounded right. We went to visit him that afternoon in hospital and told him about it, and asked him what he thought and if that was ok with him, and he smiled and said thank you. Now for those of you who don't know my dad, that is something, any other time, he would have waved his arms and said, "oh why you do that, don't worry about it." That was a very special moment between us, and a moment I'm glad we had, and I will never forget. So from now on, Number 3 will be known as Gino's Dream.
Dad wanted to come home, and we wanted to take him home, but we were told he could only come home if there was someone to take care of him. Of course we would take care of him, he is our dad, and needs looking after. So arrangements were made for him to come home. Thursday 19th January, was one of the longest days of my life. I nearly didn't go to work, I had another short shift, so thought someone would be able to cover for me, but then decided, if I stayed home, I would just sit and look at the clock all day. I went to work and looked at the clock all day anyway, but at least I was surrounded by people and happy children and it made it a little bit easier.
Dad arrived home a little after 4, and we managed to shuffle him into bed. He was made comfortable and given a door bell to ring if he needed us. I remember checking on him every few minutes that afternoon and evening, and standing at the bedroom door for several minutes before I went to bed that night. The next day, dad complained that we were checking on him too often and disturbing him. As the weekend progressed dad seemed to deteriorate. In the beginning one of us could have managed to get him to the toilet, (although we generally used two just for comfort), by the second day we had to have two of us, and then by Sunday night it took 3 of us to get him off the bed and across the hallway. A friend came to shower him on Saturday and she managed him on her own. I swear dad, being an Italian Stallion, helped as much as he could so we wouldn't be in the room to spoil his fun. By the Sunday, he had decided that he wanted to go back to hospital. We were upset about this, because we really wanted him home, but at the same time, we realised there was no way we could cope with him at home. It was getting harder to move him, and he wasn't eating anything. I spent Sunday night on the bed next to him, and he woke up through the night a few times and we chatted briefly before he fell asleep again. It was a long night, I didn't sleep a minute, but it was a night I will never forget or regret. The nurse came Monday morning to shower dad, and I told her he was waiting for a shower and then was ready to go back to hospital. The nurse looked at him, and made all the phone calls for me. She was such an asset to me that day. I owe her so much. There is no way I could have done what she did. She stayed with me right up until dad was safely in the ambulance and then in all the confusion, I even forgot to pay her. I spent the rest of the day at the hospital, family and friends came for a visit and dad was getting tired. Dad told us once we left, not to come back to the hospital anymore, that he didn't want to see us again. That didn't go down too well, and we we told him that we would never leave him. We had made him a promise that he would never be alone again, and we would do everything in our power to keep that promise. Unfortunately, we had to break that promise a bit later that evening. I was exhausted and really needed some sleep. Terry and I were the last ones left at the hospital and the nurse told me to go home and they would take care of him. He still hadn't been admitted. Reluctantly, we left him and came home. The doctor called about half an hour later. They were going to admit him, but he needed to talk to me about a few things first. He made it very clear, that dad was not a candidate for life support if anything went wrong. I did not take this too well, and asked the doctor to please keep him alive for 24 hours, so Mark, my older brother who was flying in from Queensland, would have a chance to see him. The doctor said he would do his best, but wouldn't promise that he could. One of my sisters went to the hospital on Tuesday morning, and I got there about lunch time. We were finally able to keep our promise to him. There was someone with him all the time. I stayed with dad till about 8, then went home. Mark had arrived from Queensland and spent time with him, and my other sister decided she would stay the night at the hospital with him. The nurse said that would be fine and put a bed in the room for her. About an hour or so after I left, I told Terry I needed to go back to the hospital. We were nearly there when my phone rang. My sister told me to hurry up, dad had had a set back. When we finally got through the doors and up the lift, we were told it was a false alarm. His drip had come out and he was bleeding, nothing serious and it was already under control. We stayed about an hour then left again. Mark went to the hospital Wednesday morning and my sister came home. Mark stayed with dad most of the day only leaving for a while when someone else was there. I had decided to go later that day, because I was staying the night. I got there about 7. Dad passed away at 7.50 that night with most of us by his side. During his last few days he kept talking about a woman coming to get him, at first it was 6 o'clock, then when 6 p.m. came and went, and no one turned up, we questioned him about it, and he said she had changed it to 8 p.m. Then 8 came and went and he said, she told him she couldn't make it that night and would come another night for him. We didn't think much of it, and just thought he was being funny. Dad was a real flirt with the ladies, and we thought he might have thought we would have gone by 8, and the next day he was going to tell us, he had a date with one of the nurses. I'm not sure if he mentioned it again the next night or not, but then, the night after that he passed away just before 8. I still believe the woman who came to get him was his mother. People tell me it could have been an angel. Either way, he was happy to see her, and go with her. He also often asked who was in the room with us, and when we told him who was there, he seemed to look at empty spaces, but never asked who else. I think he saw someone else in those last couple of days, and didn't want to say, in case we didn't believe him, or he frightened us. Another thing that sticks in my mind is that my two brothers and sister in law, having being with dad most of the afternoon had decided to go home for some tea. One of my sisters told them to just go to the pub, because if they went all the way home, cooked tea and washed up they might not come back to the hospital. They agreed, and headed off to the pub. When they got there, they decided to put dads numbers on Keno. The numbers kept winning, so they played another game, then another game and so on. They missed a game, then put the winnings on another game, and the numbers didn't win. Dad's luck had run out, so they decided to come back to the hospital. They walked through the door, and dad gasped and took his final breath. My other sister arrived a few minutes later. Other things happened in those last few minutes, but they are personal, and I won't share them, but the coincidences were incredible. One day, I may even make sense of it all. We truly believe dad stayed alive long enough to see Mark, and talk to him, even though he was very weak by then. We all stayed with dad for a couple of hours after that, crying at first, and then remembering and sharing stories. We didn't want to leave, and the nurse told us we could stay as long as we liked, but it was getting late and there were patients trying to sleep, so reluctantly, slowly, we got up to leave. It felt really strange, taking all his things, and leaving him. That was really hard. It was the 25th January, he had been diagnosed on the 12th January. 2 weeks. Even the doctors couldn't believe how aggressive it was.
The next week was a blur, but we knew there were things to do, and so we set about doing them, it kept us busy and that's what we needed. Dad didn't want a funeral. He had planned everything right down to the last detail, and we followed his wishes, however, there were a lot of people who wanted to say goodbye, so we arranged a memorial for him for Wednesday 1st February, one week after his death. We were expecting about 30 people, and were totally overwhelmed when about 60 or more turned up. I was going to take photos, but was so busy I never got a chance. I didn't even get the chance to thank everyone personally. Some people got up and said a few words, but most people just spoke to us privately. It was a lovely send off, and I have never been more proud of my dad than what I was that night. Hearing all those stories about dad, and the love that these people had for him, made me proud he was my dad. I loved him in life, and I love him even more in death. We ended the evening by releasing 6 balloons (each member of the immediate family had one) in red, green and white, the colours of the Italian flag, at 7.50 p.m the time which he passed away exactly one week earlier.
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| Fly with the angels dad |
It was the perfect ending to a not so perfect, but lovely life.
