Dad's Story

It was a warm evening in late September. I returned home from work around 4.45pm, as the sun was starting to fade. I parked behind my father, who was washing his car.

His car, an old blue Toyota Starlet, was his pride and joy and was always kept in immaculate condition.

We shared a joke and we both laughed as I walked into the house to get changed.

Not remembering that joke has bothered me ever since.

It was our last conversation.

I had just changed clothes when my mother called for my help. I found Dad sitting on the side of the bed, looking out at his perfectly clean car. His skin was pale and his lips were blue. His asthma inhaler was sitting on the bed next to him.

As I put my arm around his shoulders to help him use the inhaler again, he collapsed in my arms.

“Call the ambulance!” I yelled, as I picked my father up and placed him on the ground.

Yes, I picked up a 65kg man! Looking back, adrenaline is amazing.

What followed was my mum reading out instructions from the emergency operator, who guided me through CPR. Mum counted. I pushed down on Dad’s chest.

More counting. More compressions.

Almost 15 years on, I can still feel his ribcage bending under my palms. The smell of my breath mixing with his and then coming back at me because it seemed to have nowhere else to go.

It took eight minutes for the ambulance to arrive.

From there, my father spent 36 hours in the hospital ICU, with tubes and machines attached everywhere. The room was busy with nurses and doctors, all working quietly around machines that were constantly beeping.

I remember how small my father looked, in between two giant machines that were busy beeping away, keeping him alive.

In the waiting room, my mother and I agreed that he would have hated all the fuss.

We both knew this wasn’t going to end well, so I don’t think we were surprised when the doctors finally told us, “His condition is no longer compatible with life.”

We both knew it was coming.

And in some way, I think we were both prepared for it, because Dad had always spoken openly about the things he wanted when he died.

He had mentioned his desire to be an organ donor more times than I can remember, so we made sure Dad’s wishes were known. Although he wasn’t eligible to be an organ donor for various reasons, he was able to be a tissue donor.

Dad’s eyes went on to give the gift of sight to two people, which I know he would have loved.

Planning Dad’s funeral was also a relatively stress-free process.

Of course, we were upset and grieving, but because he had made his wishes clear, there weren’t any arguments about what we should do.

Looking back, I’m so pleased he felt comfortable sharing his wishes with us.

Leaving clear wishes for your family is such a gift.

A gift that my father left me.

And by creating this book, a gift you can now leave for your loved ones too.

Don’t leave your family with questions. Leave them with Wishes.

 

 

Want to read more about the story behind Wishes?

Dad’s story was also shared by Organ Donation New Zealand, following his tissue donation.

Read Neville's story on Organ Donation New Zealand