RIP my Dad

[The Dríver]

Sincere condolences. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

[toomanyhatz]

My condolences, James. I've been there too, and it's tough. Take what comfort you can out of remembering the good times you had together, and the things about him you loved. I'm lifting a glass to my dad and yours right now.

[James R]

Thanks everyone.

Sam: Dad's name was also James (I was named after him).

[Neige]

6/1/38-24/8/08

It really is a great photo (which bears repetition in this context, I think).

This is so sad.

Sincere condolences, and I will raise a glass for James Sr. tonight.

[moonie]

6/1/38-24/8/08

It really is a great photo (which bears repetition in this context, I think).

This is so sad.

Sincere condolences, and I will raise a glass for James Sr. tonight.

Couldn't have said it better. May your father rest peacefully and I'm toasting my coffee as I write.

Just as an aside, you favor your pops quite a bit, and that picture really shows it.

[toomanypillowz]

My condolences. He looked like a sweet guy.

[Butch Manly]

Sorry to hear your sad news, James. Best wishes to you.

[Brother Spoon]

I only have a cup of water, but it's raised.
I'm very sorry to hear about this.

[Jude]

I'm so sorry to hear about this James. My condolences.

[the masked man]

Take care, James - you have all our condolences, I'm sure.

[Livet]

Sorry to hear this. Will raise a glass to James Sr. tonight.

[Neil Jung]

I'm sorry to hear this sad news. My condolences.

[Beebsy]

I'm so sorry for your loss, James.

RIP James Snr.

That is a lovely photo - you look very comfortable with each other.

[Minnie the Minx]

Sorry I missed this, am still a bit computerless - best wishes and condolences sweetheart.
x

[James R]

Firstly, let me say thanks again to everyone who's posted here or sent a PM. It means a great deal.

I've alluded here in the recent past to a stressful family situation, and Dad's illness (in combination with Mum's illness and her getting through the treatment for same) was it. We first noticed around the middle of last year that he was slowing down a fair bit. I think he attributed it to increasing age (he turned 70 in January), but while he was, obviously, not getting any younger, it gradually became more and more apparent that there was more wrong with him than just old age, especially as he began to have more trouble breathing.

Eventually he finally went to see his doctor about it, and basically the doctor was useless. Never sent him for any tests, just gave him a ventolin-type puffer to help him breathe when he needed it. We suspect rather strongly that Dad's history of smoking—despite him not having smoked since 1998—prejudiced the quack against giving him much other help. Neither Mum nor I have patronised this fellow for some years (I had a fairly bad experience once thanks to one of his other staff) and needless to say we'll not be darkening his doors again.

Equally needless to say, this puffer thing did Dad no damn good whatsoever and he only got worse, and equally he did himself no favours by refusing to seek any more treatment, until one day he asked Mum would she make an appointment for him with her own doctor. So he went and saw her, she did an assortment of quick tests on him there and booked him in for an assortment of others at the hospital. Later that day he got taken to hospital after collapsing at the shopping centre, and was in there for nearly two weeks.

Finally we had a name for what was wrong with him:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Idiopathic ... y_fibrosis
In short, scarring of the lungs with no immediately discernible cause. It could have been a result of 45 years of smoking, or it could have been the 18 years he spent working around chemicals for ICI, or it could've been the eight-odd years he spent as a young man working down the pit (Mum and Dad both come from a mining community in Scotland). Or it could've been absolutely none of those things. We were told at the time the damage to Dad's lungs could not be undone, but with cortisone treatment they might be able to roll it back to how he was a few months earlier. Not good, but at least not as bad as he currently was.

We had him at home for another four weeks or so. On the way to the hospital for a check-up with his specialist, he had what I still think (in spite of what the specialist later told Mum) was a heart attack. We were told, pretty much, to expect the worst. He was in intensive care for four days before they moved him into the general respiratory ward, and he continued to improve over the next couple of weeks, to the point where we were told we could probably get him home on Monday (i.e. the 25th), although by this time it was clear he wasn't responding to the cortisone treatment and the degree of care he would need at home was going to be much higher than it had been before.

On the Sunday morning he took a turn for the worse suddenly. By the time Mum and I got into the hospital in the afternoon to see him, he was hooked up to a machine delivering twenty litres of oxygen to him cos he was in so much strife breathing (he couldn't breathe without some sort of assistance—here at home he was hooked up to an oxygen concentrator, and if he needed to go out he had to carry a portable oxygen cylinder, which, given the amount of oxygen he needed, would only give him about an hour and a half at most—but up to this point he'd not needed so much) and he could barely talk because 1) you couldn't make him out through the mask anyway and 2) trying to talk lowered his oxygen levels too much. While we were there, he got moved into a room of his own (thank God for which fact, I would not have wanted him to go in that ward) and the doctor spoke to us, and when he said he didn't think Dad was going to last long enough even to be taken off to the hospice, I knew then the end wasn't far enough. We lost him at 9pm that night.

The funeral was yesterday. Weather was better than expected, about 100 people showed up, and everything went as smoothly as you could hope for. As Mum said afterwards, Dad would've enjoyed it himself.

I have to stop now. Thanks for reading, folks.

[Charlie O.]

Bless, James.

[Phil T]

For a while after my mom died I'd experience a terrible dissapointment each morning as my brain in it's foggy waking up state would play games with me and momentarily mistake the sounds of my neighbors making breakfast next door as my mom puttering around in OUR kitchen. Invariably and inexcusably I would leap with hope on the idea that the whole thing was all just a terrible dream.

In fact I got similar to this for almost a month after Ruth died. I'd wake up, roll over, see she wasn't there, and for a micro second think "oh, she's gone for a pee/is downstairs making a cuppa/on the phone to her mum/ gone to work" any of those, before reality with it's BIIIGG iron boot kicked in...

[John Mc]

I'm sorry to hear this, mate. Take care.

[Jeemo]

Its a funny thing losing a parent. My Dad died when I was 14 from a heart attack he was 48 he had his first heart attack when he was 42 and although he did some things that he was told by the Doc. He never really stopped smoking, which wasnt helped by my Mum not stopping. I still have a chip on my shoulder about losing my Dad so young, I missed out on the part when he becomes a pal rather than a father and I am jealous of people lucky enough to have had this. He also missed out on all the things that I and my brother became. He never met our wives or his grandchildren and this can still bring me close to tears.

My Mum was at times a hard woman to get on with, everything was her way or not at all, and she could be very dogmatic about things, a while before she died we were talking about me growing up and being a parent myself and she asked about times when I asked to do things and she said no, and that didnt I see that she was right now that I was in her position. I told her no, as all it told me was that she didnt trust me and was judging me by what other peoples kids had got up too. I dont really drink that much now and never came home drunk, but because my Dad didnt drink at all and she didnt really bother, she didnt get that my atitude was to my credit.

She died 3 years ago of general health issues related to smoking and had been in very poor health for the last 10 years or so. She had to wear a mask in the house to give her oxygen, which didnt stop her taking it off and smoking in the kitchen after switching the machine off. She knew for years that the smoking was killing her but wouldnt stop even to the extent of lying to me about stopping when I could smell that she had been, she would then turn on me because I didnt believe she stopped. In the end she missed my brothers wedding in Canada as she just out of hospital after being clinically dead but was brought back with CPR. It didnt stop her starting smoking again the day I left for Canada, and she also missed the birth of her second granchild by 5 months as she just wouldnt stop smoking.

It was a relief when she did pass as her quality of life was very poor and she really struggled to catch her breath when not on the oxygen, But as time passes these memories fade and get replaced by just missing her being around even if she did drive me up the wall most of the time.

Now that I have typed all this I am not really sure what my point is, maybe there isnt one. Except I still miss both of them. So if your Mum and Dad are stil around give them a hug the next time you see them.

[Snowdog]

Coming to this late but so sorry to hear the bad news.