My dad began suffering from a dull ache in his groin that grew steadily worse from early 2007 onwards. He began seeing his GP a week after it started, and having a false hip from the age of 50 it was diagnosed simply as wear and tear on the joint, and he was referred to an orthopaedic surgeon. However, the pain in his groin grew worse, and he began exhibiting other symptoms, such as fatigue, vomiting and weight loss. Time and time again he went to the GP, and time and time again he was flippantly dismissed as having a worn replacement hip-joint and perhaps the flu, or a virus to explain his other symptoms. He was never examined, there were no diagnostics such as scans or xrays despite his medical history (my dad had suffered from bladder cancer between 2003-2005, and it was on record that he would be susceptible to secondary cancers for the rest of his life), and each time the GP's just seemed to jump on this conclusion that it must be his new hip-joint, it never seemed to occur to them that his other symptoms could possibly be linked either.
As summer turned to winter dad's condition worsened, and during November 2007 I found my dad keeled over on the bathroom floor one morning, crying from the pain he was in. At that point I rushed him to hospital, and spent 13 hours with him to see an A&E doctor who again, tried to explain my dad's symptoms away as a mere virus and again, a worn hip-joint and tried to send him away with yet more painkillers and a promise to follow up on his referral to an orthopaedic surgeon. At this point I lost it, I told the doctor in no uncertain terms that it seemed he was far more interested in just getting my dad out the door, and that in my eyes he was treating him as a mere nuisance to be gotten rid of, and not a person in dire need of help. In my view, my dad's condition wouldn't be a quick and easy fix thus they didn't want to know in case it effect their precious stats, and I insisted that we weren't leaving until someone took my dad's treatment seriously.
A susbsequent blood test revealed that my dad had certain anti-bodies present that indicated the presence of cancer cells, and two days later my dad was called back to the hospital to see an oncologist, who referred him for an urgent MRI scan. This revealed enlarged lymph nodes, caused by advanced lymphatic cancer. My dad was given a terminal diagnosis in January 2008, and despite several courses of chemotherapy in an attempt to buy him more time, he sadly passed away on the 7th September 2008 at Warrington hospital.
My dad died in agony that morning despite being on the maximum safe dose of morphine, grey and sallow and desperately drawing rasping breaths from his oxygen mask as he fought frantically to cling to life. I recall, as I sat by his bedside watching him fade that I was imploring him in my mind to just let go, to just stop breathing and spare himself some of what he was enduring. When he eventually did pass, I remember among the usual emotions you'd expect when a loved one dies, a sliver or relief that it was all over, that I didn't have to watch him suffer anymore. I've struggled with an overwhelming sense of guilt since then for allowing myself that moment of selfishness when the man who'd raised me, who'd loved from the moment I was born had just died such a cruel and horrible death. I don't think the trauma of my dad's death, or the guilt I've felt since will ever leave me. Still to this day I'll sometimes wake in the night in tears at what happened to my dad, and as I post this I'll admit that I'm struggling to hold them back now, nearly two years on.