My lovely Dad was sadly diagnosed with Oropharyngeal Squamous Cell Carcinoma (OPSCC) commonly referred to as Throat Cancer, on 23rd of May 2023. By the time of his diagnosis, his condition was Terminal, and there weren’t many options available to him in the way of treatment or prolonging his life, and his Prognosis was a heartbreaking ‘weeks to a few months’ to live.

Unfortunately, Dad kept all his symptoms and tests under wraps and didn't share his struggles with his daughters, other family members, or friends.

This news came as a massive shock to my sister Tracy and I, his daughters. We found out, out of the blue, that our 64-year-old Dad was going to be leaving us sooner then he should have, there was no build up to it, we were simply given the news. One day Dad was ok the next he wasn't. We were devastated to say the least!

Adding to the difficulty, and emotional aspect of this news, there was also a location distance between Dad and his family. Dad lived in Gloucester, I live in Scotland, Tracy lives in Wales, where his siblings and Mum also live. Because of this, our main form of communication with him was phone calls.

Tracy and I went to visit him, to spend as much time as we could with him as possible. He should have been here for years more, not months. We managed to get him out fishing, an activity he enjoyed a lot. We'd sit in his room and make him laugh, trying to keep things light and not all doom and gloom, even though our hearts were breaking.

Everyone knew my dad enjoyed a pint…or 10, he was a hard grafter in his days, roofing up until his breakdown many years ago, where he was diagnosed with dementia. Dad enjoyed his own company with a cider at home or at his local pub. He was a kind, caring and quiet soul, kept himself to himself, just enjoyed the simple things in life, namely a cold beer and a roll up.

Dad declined quickly following his diagnosis. Within weeks he was sleeping almost all day, and the last few weeks of his life he was sleeping at least 22 hours a day, he became non-verbal due to the Tumour pressing against his voice box and the pain it put him in, we were relying on written notes and hand gestures to make out what dad was trying to communicate to us.

He used to enjoy a drink, and would spend most evenings having ‘a few’ pints of cider, smoking away, watching the TV, sitting with the dog, doing crosswords, but within no time at all after his diagnosis, he was not able to finish one drink and had stopped smoking due to pain and discomfort.

His body was giving up, he couldn’t eat solid foods and his daily fuel came from nutritional shakes prescribed by the Doctor and an occasional cider, or part of. His only pain relief was liquid morphine, but through pride and stubbornness, would often insist he wasn’t in pain and didn’t need any pain relief.

I went to stay with Dad not long after finding out the news, to care for and be there for him. Dad was offered Radiotherapy, not to give him extra time but to relieve the pain symptoms to allow him to have some comfort in his dying days, and I wanted to be there for him, to help him through that. Dad only managed to attend 2 out 14 appointments until he decided he couldn't do it any more, he just wanted his bed and to rest. He said he just wanted to die in peace, we respected his decision, so we just made the most of what time we had left.

I stayed with Dad for the final 5 weeks of his life, it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, but I needed to do it. I had to watch my lovely Dad fade away each day until he took his final breath.

The lump in his throat grew daily restricting his breathing, you could see the struggle he had. The medical team suggested it wouldn't be much longer, but the stubborn man he was kept proving them wrong, and kept fighting through it.

On Thursday 5th October 2023 at 11.58pm, our lovely Dad looks his final breath with his 2 Daughters by his side, some 5 weeks after he was only given a week to live…stubborn. He managed to reach his 65th birthday, which was a miracle to be honest, defying the doctors expectations.

My dad was, and still is, a true inspiration to me. He was suffering, he lost his speech, mobility to do his usual activities, his lifestyle, he lost himself, he was dying and he knew it, but not once did he complain. He even managed to smile at me every day, communicate through written notes and gave me a kiss on my cheek every day! Now that's a fighter!! He may have lost his battle to Cancer but in my eyes he's always my winner.

I have struggled with losing my Dad. Some days are harder then others, mentally i have felt exhausted with the constant replayed things over and over in my mind, wishing I could've done more.

Recently, I decided to take action for the sake of my mental health and family and take up swimming. It has most definitely helped, I feel more focused and I look forward to going. It relaxes me and helps clear my mind, I would totally recommend it. I wanted to take on more of a challenge so I've decided to swim 65 lengths every day throughout the month of May, 1 for each year of my Dads life, to raise money for Longfield Hospice to help towards people they care for and their families who are all dealing with this deadly disease.

The last 5 weeks of Dad life, Longfield Hospice were introduced to my Dad, to help with his care when he was less able. Dad was a proud man and mostly declined the care, but it was available to him if he did change his mind. The carers were a god send for my sister and me, they would visit Dad twice a day, have a chat with him and make sure he had all he needed/wanted, but Dad's care aside, they were a huge support for us, they would stay for a chat, we would have a giggle, share stories and they would make sure we were ok, they offered the support to us even though we weren't their patients. This went a long way for us as we were going through one of the hardest times in our lives. They made us feel we weren't alone.

Longfield deserve recognition for what they do, I will always be grateful to the care they gave.

I will post regularly with my progress. Any amount would be muchly appreciated.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

RIP

Love you always Dad!

Mark Bates

23rd August 1958 - 5th October 2023 aged 65.