2017.

2017 has not shaped up to be a good year for me. So of course I had my two MPFL tendon reconstructions which while good for me, I had to spend a total of four months recooperating and getting used to walking properly with my knees fixed. I got over that and went back to work and was okay, and started my third year of uni, and all was going well.

In August my Dad was in and out of the doctors and they eventually discovered that he had a form of cancer, we didn't know how bad at that time. When he got the type diagnosed, we found out it was non small cell, stage four lung cancer, with tumours also on his liver, and it now turns out, his brain and spine. However, the oncologist was optimistic about treating Dad, and so Dad started a new type of treatment called immunotherapy, which is an upcoming form of treatment where the cells forming the tumour are bacially told to stop doing what they're doing and go back to being normal cells. So Dad had two of those. Also, in the intervening time between getting diagnosed and his death, my parents chose to get married.
He had his second immunothreapy treatment the day after their wedding which was the 7th of November, but by Friday we were taking him to hospital. He was severely poorly, he wasn't urinating, eating, drinking, and was very confused. He was admitted and the doctors begin treating him for sepsis. He seemed to get better and was improving, still confused but didn't sound so bad, and I had glimpses of my Dad again, because he was telling me off for wearing my 'ridiculous' knee high Doc martens.
However, Friday morning, Mum wakes up and the hospital had been trying to contact her all night. Dad took a turn for the worst through the night, they think through a combo of the morphine and his cancer, his carbon dioxide levels were rising and he was going into respiratory failure. The doctors had this mask on him to pump oxygen into him and at the same time, suck the carbon dioxide away, but he didn't want to wear it. Eventually, it got to the stage where the doctor told us we would have to just let him go, if he wanted to go. Mum had already signed a DNR, because he wasn't capable, and he just wasn't ever going to be strong enough to be capable of recovering from being resuscitated. We were moved to a private side room for some privacy and Dad started to slip away. He didn't want to wear his oxygen either, as I imagine in his mind that was his little way of being able to control his death, which is so very like him as he always liked to be in control.
It's strange when somebody dies, because people say to you if there's anything they can do, then tell them. However the ONE thing I want right now, is my Dad back, but no one can do that. As much as I would do anything to have him back, I would not want him back in the amount of pain he was in. He is in a better place now because he can't hurt any more for which I am glad. I just wish I had had longer than 22 years with him, that he was able to give me away and meet his grandchildren, and that my parents had had longer as a married couple.
Staff Sargent Major Kenneth Robert Bunce, 3/2/1958- 24/11/2017. A friend, son, brother, husband and much more to other people but most importantly you were mine and Ryan's Dad, someone we could rely on to look after us when we needed it, to know the answers to silly questions we asked, and to love us unconditionally even when we drove you mad. Love you, Dad. Have a pint up there on me.