My life was perfect a year ago, I was at university, just secured a 6 month placement in Norway and although my parents were separated we still had a very close family. A month and a half into my placement abroad I called my dad after work as I usually would, he answered the phone but no words came out, I then heard a small sob. I’d never heard my dad cry before, I thought he was messing around and began to laugh until I realised that he was far from being the joker that he always was. He told me he had a shadow on his lung, he said he didn’t know how serious it was but from the tone of his voice, I knew it was. That evening I laid on a bench for hours outside my house in Norway, trying to come to terms with the news I had heard. Whilst dad was undergoing further tests I returned home from Norway. Mum picked me up from the airport and drove home, with much to my surprise dad was sitting on the sofa and mum told me that he was staying with us from now on.
After I returned to Norway, my dad received his results and he was given a year to live, he didn’t tell me, mum did. Dad never discussed the illness and could never face the fact that he was ill with something that he himself couldn’t control. Every three weeks I would return from Norway, dad didn’t want his illness to stop me from anything and I just wanted to make him proud. Every time I returned, dad would hide up at the airport and surprise me, even though mum told me he was very ill I never believe her because he put such a brave face on for me.

I returned home for Christmas allowing me to have a few weeks at home, Christmas day was the happiest day of my life, the whole family was together again, just like it used to be. Dad was on top form for entertainment as per usual. After the hype of Christmas day I began to notice the deterioration in dad’s health, he didn’t seem to have the willingness to fight the battle anymore. I chose to stay at home at this point and to not return to my job in Norway. Things went rapidly downhill and dad was having carers in daily as well as a bed in the living room. He found it hard to move and was now connected to an oxygen machine by his bed.

Friday 27th January was my 21st birthday, dad turned to me from his bed as I entered the room and whispered, Happy Birthday, I couldn’t believe he remembered, he was always a day early or a day late. The rest of the day he slept. It came to Monday, the 30th January 2012, I kissed him goodbye as I left for work, his breathing was wheezy and his eyes still shut. I returned from work 5pm and sat by his bedside to tell him about my day at work, mum on the other. Mum’s friend came over soon after and we all sat around dad nattering as he lay there peacefully. He’s breathing began to change; I offered to call the on call doctor. As I was talking to them, mums friend told me to go back and be with dad. I didn’t understand and didn’t want to either. I held his hand and kissed his forehead as he gently passed away.

Dad died aged 64 within 5 months after his diagnosis. He wasn’t only my father but my best friend. Everything he said had a funny side to it. Whenever it came round to the time of year the marathon I would always turn to dad and say, one day I will run the marathon and he would always sarcastically reply… ‘course you will Gina. I feel that this is my chance to make him and my family proud and for the privilege to run for a charity, helping a cause which is now so close to my heart and to help other people in a similar position to my father.

So please dig deep and donate to The Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation to enable people to gain such great support from an amazing charity.