Sunday, December 9, 2012

My Dad

In memory of Alfred Hughes My Dad 

I lost my dad Christmas day 1989 I was only 22 yrs old when I received the phone call at 5am on Christmas morning telling me he had died. His death was not expected he had been poorly all my life since I was a little girl. He had  Pneumoconiosis Emphysema   (what the miners have ) having worked in a asbestos boiler  house at Leasowe hospital for many years. My memoirs of my dad consist of him coughing up blood as his lung were badly damaged. He also had trouble breathing and we lived with a few oxygen tanks in the house. My dad was admitted to hospital  Christmas eve having run out of oxygen in the cylinders. 

Looking back we should have realised something was wrong as we went through the oxygen to quickly.
As usually the banter between my dad and myself was there. We always fooled about. I had seen him many times in intensive care as I grew up, in many different hospitals. My dad was always good at getting me in trouble with the nurses. 
Christmas Eve. My mum headed to the hospital with my dad. I was suppose to be meeting my friend Mandy In Liscard for a drink. On the way I popped into the pub to tell Mandy what had happened before I headed to the hospital.
Dad was chatting away as normal the he said "am dying". Joking apart I said to him well you haven't got time for its Christmas day tomorrow, then boxing day the next, you will have to wait till the day after. 
He was always saying those words am dying I had heard it many times before. He was laughing calling me a cheeky bugger. 
It was Christmas Eve and it was getting late as we sat by his beside. With tired eyes we said our goodbyes with kisses and hugs and headed home ready for our Christmas day visit to the hospital with mum. 
Little did I no that would be the last time I would ever see him alive.
It was 5am Christmas morning I woke with a start sound of the phone ringing. The phone call was from the hospital telling me my dad was very poorly and we had to make our way to the hospital the she said she was sorry but he had just died.. Not knowing what to do I rang my uncle.
Waking my mum we headed to the hospital I was so shocked as I tried to tell her my dad had died. She new something was wrong. Reaching Arrow Park Hospital we headed for the lifts to the wards it was then I managed to get those words out and told her my dad had died. My Uncle met us as we walked towards the ward. 
We spent the next few hours with my dad before heading back home completely numb. Through out the day we had many visitors who came to see if we were alright. 
It was a time I will never forget.
Its been 23 years since my dad died but the memory of his death is still as fresh as it was back then in 1989.
God Bless my dad at Christmas. 

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