Dawn’s story: remembering her dad, Dick Rutherford

My Dad, Dick Rutherford

My Dad, Dick Rutherford, was diagnosed with cancer in his bowel in September 2013. Other health issues meant he was unable to undergo any medical intervention, and the consultant estimated Dad would live for about a year. Which he did.

In August 2014, I contacted St Nic’s with a view to getting respite care put in place one day a week, as Dad’s health was deteriorating and he was becoming increasingly weak. Dad was admitted to West Suffolk Hospital as he hadn’t been able to eat or drink for a few days. He found the experience difficult and became increasingly upset, so at his request, we took him home.

By sheer chance, the Hospice called.

A couple of days later, with Dad very poorly, my partner and I carried him downstairs. On that morning, by sheer chance, the Hospice called to discuss respite arrangements. On hearing what was happening, they immediately sent a Hospice vehicle for Dad.

On arrival at the Hospice, we were greeted by a calm, professional doctor, who, within minutes, advised us not to expect Dad to survive too long due to his dehydrated and debilitated condition. Not long after that, she advised that Dad’s mouth was full of ulcers, the reason why he couldn’t eat or drink.

Treatment for the ulcers brought Dad back to life. The next few days saw him improve. He slowly got some appetite back and began to communicate and engage.

The Hospice environment is a special place. The calmness, friendliness, dedication and care are literally life-changing, for however long each life is. After a couple of weeks, there was talk of Dad going home with a care package in place, and the Hospice began the process of applying for funding.

Don't forget to bring some runner beans in tomorrow for John.

On Sunday, 7 September 2014, we visited Dad. He sat in the chair next to his bed. We chatted.

He had views of the garden changing into its autumn colours, and the last words I ever heard my dad say were:

“Don’t forget to bring some runner beans in tomorrow for John”. (John was a Hospice volunteer.)

We waved and left.

At around 8.20am the following day, I received a calm phone call saying that Dad wasn’t too well and I might want to head to the Hospice. I worked in Ipswich and stopped off in Stowmarket to collect my partner. We arrived at the Hospice just as the 10am news came on the radio. The time of death on Dad’s death certificate was 9.58am. Two minutes too late. But just as Dad would’ve wanted it. No fuss, no drama, no crowds.

The radio was still on. He’d got the soft, misshapen wooden cross in his hand, given to him by the Hospice, and he looked like he was asleep. I held his hand until it wasn’t warm anymore.

Everything that happened thereafter was done with compassion and empathy.

We were left quietly with Dad for some time, and everything that happened thereafter was done with compassion and empathy. Mum and I visited Dad in the chapel of rest the following day.

Mum accepted the offer of grief counselling offered by the Hospice; this was so valuable. We have supported the Hospice whenever possible since then, with eight Girls Night Out Walks, one Valentine’s Walk, two Sunset Walks, one self-organised walk (Walk for Dad), a skydive, birthday donations, Christmas services and donations along the way.

Because just “thank you” will never be enough, we will be supporting Sunflower Memories with a dedication to Dad to celebrate his life.

Dawn