Death of a Mentor

The night before…

    It started with a phone call,
                ‘Where are you’?
A woman’s voice resonated through the telephones’ ear piece in an anxious tone.
                ‘At home, I’ve been in five minutes, traffic home was a joke, why what’s the matter’?
A sniffle came back,
                ‘Mum what’s up’?
Robert was worried at the sound of her voice.
                ‘It’s your dad, I couldn’t wake him up and..’, she stopped short of completing her sentence,
                ‘I’m on my way’.
With that Robert hung up the phone and shouted to his wife in the kitchen,
                ‘I’ve got to go out’.
                ‘Where’? His wife responded, ‘your meals ready’,
Robert’s wife, a woman not impressed with people that left food that she had spent some time creating.
                ‘It’s my dad, I don’t think he’s too good I’m going down there’. 
                ‘Hold on, I’ll come with you’.

    The pair walked briskly in the cooling evening air, a hint of rain loomed high above. It was only eight fifteen, but there was scarcely a soul on the streets. As they reached the corner of the street to cross the side road a gaggle of laughter and raised voices came from the direction of the local pub, Robert’s gaze was fixed on a point in the distance, the direction of his parents’ house. Passing the nearby park, the voices had subsided and were fading into the night. Leaves from trees seemed to fling themselves into the pair, heading for their faces, dodging the brown entrails caused Hayley to slip off the curb edge, her foot squelched as it landed on wet leaves and grime from the road.  Robert grabbed her arm to stop her falling flat ton her face in the road.

8.25pm
         Pulling a spare key from his pocket, Robert opened the front door to his parents’ house, standing in the hallway without finding his mother he said,

                ‘where is he’?
                ‘Upstairs’, the reply came.

Two steps at a time Robert made his way up the staircase to his father’s room, the floorboards of the landing area creaked as he walked. The door to the room was open at right angles to the frame, he could not see his father, a faint hum of music could be heard coming from the right corner. Robert peered around the door, his father stood in is bathrobe and slippers, he was straightening the bed sheets. He looked tired, drained and ill.

                ‘Dad’, Robert said, ‘you okay’?
                ‘Oh hiya son, yeah I’m fine, just tired’.

His fathers’ voice was weary and lacked his usual conviction.

                  ‘You look more than tired to me’.
His tone was that of concern and annoyance as he knew there was something not quite right.
                  ‘I am, I’m just tired I need to sleep that’s all’.

With that he crawled on the bed, as he did the bottom of his robe pulled up slightly revealing his lower limbs just below the knee, Robert was astonished at what he saw. The skin was red and sore it appeared to be peeling itself away from his body, the same was happening to his feet.

Robert had to query this,
                  ‘Dad what have you done to your legs, have you burned yourself’?

This would be a suitable explanation as to why the skin was in that condition,
                    ‘No’, his father responded with no further explanation,
                    ‘Right’, Robert’s tone had changed, now he was worried,
                    ‘First thing tomorrow we are getting the doctor out, whether you like it or not’.

                    ‘Okay son’,
Left hand outstretched, Robert held it and said,
                    ‘Alright, you get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow’. 

Turning the light off he left the room.

Downstairs Robert’s wife was speaking to his mother in the living room when he entered,
                ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was in a bad way’?
                ‘He didn’t want to bother you, you’re very busy with work and all’.
                ‘I’m never that busy, and it’s only work. I’ve told him he’s seeing the Doc in the morning’.
                ‘He won’t’.
                ‘Wanna’ bet’.

They all said their goodbyes, Robert and Hayley left locking the door as they did. During the walk home he explained what he had seen, they both agreed that he was in need of medical attention.


Next day – September 12th – 7.02am.

         Abruptly woken by the sound of a phone resonating in his ears, Robert almost flew out of bed, it seemed so loud, no one rang this early, apart from in an emergency. Scrambling to his feet he grabbed the phone from it’s dock on the bed-side table, in a hurried, almost breathless pant he clicked the answer button,
              ‘Hel..hel.’ a rumble in the throat and a cough he tried again, ‘hello’, he already knew who it was.

              ‘Robert’, his mother’s voice quite yet panicked,
              ‘it’s your dad, can you come down here quick’.
 
He didn’t say anything, switching the off button the device fell from his hands, it appeared to fall in slow motion, he watched as it bounced off the table and somersaulted to the floor with a thud shedding it’s battery as it did. A sickening feeling in his stomach. Hayley opened her eyes at the sound of the commotion; lifting herself saying,

              ‘What on earth are you doing’?
Her tone grouchy and unimpressed at being rudely awoken, turning to Robert as he had not responded, his eyes starring at the broken phone.
              ‘What’s happened’? Now sounding concerned.

Shaking his head and focusing his he spoke,
              ‘It’s my dad, gotta’ go’.
Scrambling for his jeans and any T-shirt he hurriedly dressed himself. Almost falling as he went, Robert darted down the staircase four steps at a time. By the time he had unlocked the front door Hayley was standing behind him dressed, he turned, she nodded towards the door.

         Following the same route as the night before they walked at a pace similar to that of an Olympic walker or at least Robert was, Hayley tried to keep up quickening her stride to a slow jog. No words were spoken, they didn’t need to speak, thoughts rushed through Robert’s mind, heart pounding, almost bursting from his chest, a pain developed in the back of his neck – a stressful situation was imminent, his body cautioning him. Someone who knew the pair called out, ‘morning’, Robert’s gaze didn’t move, Hayley acknowledged the person with a half-hearted wave, they continued.

         The door to the house was already open when they arrived, Robert darted in, through the hallway into the living room. His mother was sat in her usual chair, cigarette-puffing smoke like a steam locomotive, eyes wide and unflinching. Tuning abruptly he ran past Hayley who was just passing through the door. He reached the landing at an alarming rate and headed for his father’s room, something stopped him in his tracks, he could see part of his father’s right side, the other obscured by the doorframe of the bathroom.

He stepped cautiously towards him, now in full view, he could see his father, perched on the edge of the bath, feet on the floor and his left arm propping himself on the nearby washbasin.
                ‘Dad’.
Robert said touching his shoulder and looking at his eyes, nothing.
                ‘Dad’! again no response.
He checked his neck for a pulse, thoughts again invaded Robert’s consciousness, fingers at the correct point, he thought, a pulse. Is that mine or my dad’s? I don’t know, I can’t tell, I need help and fast.

                ‘CALL AN AMBULANCE’!
He yelled to Hayley downstairs, Robert tried again to wake his father. Footsteps in the bathroom, Hayley handed him the phone.
                ‘They need to speak to you’.
                ‘Hello, the patient is not conscious and seated, I need urgent medical advice’.
Robert’s voice was not panicked but controlled and very precise, extreme situations seem to focus his mind. He followed the instructions from the person on the other end.

He needed to lie his father down of a flat hard surface, putting the phone down momentarily, he awkwardly lifted his father with both his arms and moved him to the floor of the landing.

Next came the hard bit, chest compressions,
                ‘one, two, three….’,
He got to fifteen then pinching the nose and tilting the head back began mouth to mouth. Back to the chest,
                ‘Come on dammit breathe, dad come on breathe, breathe’,
Mouth to mouth again, back to chest. A breath expelled from his father, a hint of life,
                ‘Come on, that’s it breathe’, nothing more came.
Robert starred into his father’s eyes and could see the life draining away, this hurt more than any physical pain he had ever experienced it was as though his heart was being shredded into pieces.

It seemed as though he had been doing CPR for half an hour, it had been three minutes, his arms ached, and his back was in spasms from the lift, pains in his own chest. He pushed on,
                  ‘One, two, three…’,
He stopped as a green bag was placed nearby, thank goodness for that a professional, the paramedics had arrived,
                  ‘I’ve got it mate’, a voice said,

Robert rose to his feet and retreated to his father’s room. Sitting on the end the bed with the door open he could see the events unfold, they were using their defibrillators by now, they are the experts he thought, he got to feet and asked to pass-by them as he needed to get back downstairs. He could not bear anymore. As he stepped over his father’s body, he looked down at his eyes that were open again, he knew that he had died in front of him moments earlier, it was a feeling he had and not a nice one.

         The medics continued as Robert descended the stairs back into the living room. His mother now on her third cigarette in as many minutes asked,
                  ‘Is he okay’?
                  ‘I don’t know, the paramedics are doing their best’.

Robert replied grabbing one of his mother’s cigarettes from the pack. His wife was in the front path near the door as she did not smoke anymore, Robert joined her,
                  'It doesn’t look good Hayley’.
Sshe was at a loss for words, she noticed one of the paramedics slowly walking down the stairs and nodded to Robert. Disposing of his smoke he greeted the stocky medic,

                  ‘We’ve done all we can, but I’m sorry he’s gone’.
It was quite evident that they had been working hard as the beads of sweat were running from his forehead, he looked exhausted.

With a big sigh and fighting the tears Robert said,
                  ‘I thought as much, but thank you for all your efforts’.
He returned to the room where his mother was seated,
                  ‘Mum’, as he walked towards her, ‘he’s passed away’.

Hugging her, she broke into tears and sobs. Hayley came back in, Robert looked at her, he shook his head as if to say he’s dead. Hayley rushed over hugging them both.
         With a sudden death in the home the police must attend. Robert heard them at the door moments later he invited them in. They firstly spoke to the paramedics to ascertain whether there were any suspicious circumstances. Confirming there was no trauma sustained, the officers spoke to Robert,

                    ‘I’m sorry for your loss sir’, they handed him his wedding ring and silver neck chain he had given to his father months earlier.
                  ‘Thank you’.
Robert still fighting the emotions. Content with the medics’ assessment they left Robert and his family to console each other. Hayley hugged Robert again as the stocky medic returned saying,
                  ‘Sorry to interrupt’, they parted,
                  ‘We are going to have to get going, do you have a family undertaker or would you like us to recommend one’? Almost instantly Robert replied,
                  ‘Yes, we er. We have and undertaker, thank you and thanks again for everything’.
With a small smile of appreciation they left.

                  ‘He said he wished he was dead’, a voice from the back of the room spoke,
Robert turned quickly, ‘what’?
                  ‘Your dad, I heard him get out of bed and say “I wish I was dead”’.
                  ‘I think his wish was granted then mum’.

He sat on a foot stool in deep thought, a barrage of emotions, thoughts, memories rushing through his mind, questions with no answers and now no way of ever understanding why, why on earth didn’t he ask for help?

Pride – pride comes before a fall, Roberts’ father would rather suffer in silence than ask for any kind of help. His feelings were mixed, sadness, numbness, anger, all making him tense and confused.

At least now he’s at peace and can rest easy.