The Burgess Bunch needs your help to transform the Relative Room on the Stroke Ward at Frimley Park Hospital.

The room; where mum tried to sleep, so she could stay near to Dad, where we tried to understand what had happened, where we heard that dad wasnt going to make it. That room sees so many familes, and we want to gives those relatives, any comfort we can, at the scariest of times.

With this money we will work with the hospital to buy a number of resources. Temporary beds for husbands and wives to get some rest, some toys and books to keep young kids occupied and frame some of Dads incredible photos to brighten up the space.

Heres our story,

On March 13th this year, i got a call from my fiancee to say my dad had had a stroke and my brother and I needed to get to the hospital. We dashed to St George Hospital in London, and the four of us were reunited.

Dad was concious, even made a little joke. Mum was in shock, but we pulled ourselves together and listened to the doctor.

Dad had an iscemic stroke, affecting the right side of his brain. They wouldnt be able to operate, the damage was already done. The next 48 hours were critical

Tina Sargent, the stroke co-ordinator scooped us up, and talked us through the next steps. We’d be going back to Frimley Park, so dad could be observed. The swelling would hopefully go down, and they could see what damage had been done.

Mum went in the ambulance with Tina. Sam, James and I made our way to Frimley, our minds racing a mile a minute. But no words to get a thought out

They got him back to Frimley safely, got him settled. And we what almost had what feels like a nice evening together. We talked about dads favourite music, about who was his favourite child and dad mainly just talked about not being able to pee.

We talked about what the future would look like, stair lifts in the house, rugged wheelchairs so dad could still climb with mum, how we would move on and keep going.

Mum stayed with Dad that night, we went home scared, but hopeful.

Mum hadnt stopped that day, dashing away from work, up to London and back again. Supporting dad, supporting us. She was exhuasted

She went into the relative room, to get some kip, while dad was doing the same.

Another patients family member was laid out on the floor, having tried to get as comfortable as possible. Another was tucked into a chair, still awake, trying to rest.

It wasnt just dad. There were so many differnt families on that ward. Sons and daughters who had gotten the same call as us, wives who had dashed to the hospital and loved ones saying their final goodbyes.

We had a few more words with dad that next morning. The day is so muddled i cant recall them all. But i remember lots of “i love yous”, a little bit of laughter and dad asking for his ear drops from home.

By noon dad had fallen into a deep sleep and couldnt be roused. He was taken for more tests, had his charts sent to specialists and we waited in the relative room to hear any news.

Tina the stroke co-ordinator sat with us as the doctor told us he wasnt going to make it. I cant remember the words they said, or the details of the results. But i remember the look in her eyes as the doctor had to tell us we were loosing dad. Although i knew she had heard these words before, and probably watched so many family get the same news, it was still as if she understood how big a hole this man would leave

We played him his favourite songs, the people who loved him came to say goodbye and we spent those last few hours telling him how much we loved him.

My dad is my favourite dad, and now he is gone, something beautiful must come from this pain we feel.

I will never be able to take away the horror of seeing you family in pain, of having your life flipped upside down or of finding out you’re going to loose someone you love so much

But together, in memory of my dad, we can make those moments as comfortable can be. Keep loved ones well rested, let children escape away and brighten the room that sees some of the darkest day

Love Hannah xx