JOHN Tan’s family decided to let a beloved husband, father and grandfather to spend the last weeks of his life at home with love and comfort instead of dying alone in a hospital.

My name is Penelope Saras Tan, and this is the journey of our last two months with my dad, John Tan Tong Keat, who died of cancer at 71 on December 12, 2017.

It started in early January 2017, when a power trip happened in our house. Dad was always the handyman and nothing was ‘unfixable’ in his eyes. He went upstairs to reset the fuse box and turned the power back on. On his way down the stairs, he missed a step and fell, hitting the head against the wall and landed awkwardly on the foot.

Being a tough man as he always was, he thought he could just sleep it off. Unfortunately, this time, it wasn’t the case. Dad’s foot swelled and he was unable to walk the next day. I took him to the A&E and the X-ray showed a fracture on the right ankle.

He was in a cast for six weeks, and the recovery was slow despite months of physiotherapy sessions. We started to worry and decided to take him back to the doctor. They ran another X-ray to see if it was as suspected, osteoporosis or maybe a hairline crack. To our horror, the new results showed cancer cells at the hips. Further CT scan and bone scan showed that dad had stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to multiple parts of the body.

With such prognosis, we had to make a tough decision on how we should proceed. Because of his age, the doctors gave us three choices – keep dad in the hospital (the easiest option for us), palliative care with treatment to keep dad comfortable, or to just bring him home and wait for his ‘time’.

After discussing with mum, we decided the best option was palliative care for dad, as we didn’t want him to suffer. He was given a life expectancy of three months or less and we wanted to ensure dad’s last days were well spent with his family.

It was decided that mum and I would care for dad as we know he had always dreaded hospitalisations. As the weeks progressed, it became more challenging for dad to move around and he became wheelchair-bound.

In late October, while I was carrying dad from his wheelchair to the bed we heard a loud ‘crack’ and he wailed in pain as I lowered him onto the bed. He broke the femur and the femoral head had popped out of its socket.

It killed me to see dad screaming and agonising in pain. I called an ambulance and the 30-minute wait was agonising. We spent five miserable days in the hospital to treat the fracture.

Palliative care

From the first day at the hospital, dad kept asking us to bring him home. It was unbearable to see him in so much pain every time the nurses cleaned him. He would plead with the nurses not to change.

If I visited the right time, I would change dad myself, even if I had to do it single-handedly. It would take twice as long, but I managed. After five days, we decided to bring him home.

We had good support from Charis Hospice, family and friends as we tended to my dad. Almost every day, someone would drop in to check on him.

We were blessed to have our cousin Sally, a registered nurse who came in almost daily to help and demonstrate the proper way to care for dad. His bed was a blessing from Charise Hospice.

Dad came home with a skin traction on the left leg which he had on for the first two weeks to keep the pain at bay. 

Every tattoo on dad’s body symbolised each of our horoscopes. The main tattoo on the chest was lady Virgo representing mum and Aries for me. The tattoo on the right arm, the Aquarius sign was in remembrance of my late paternal grandma and on the left arm, Sagittarius represented my one and only brother, Melvin.

Hygiene was our priority, and we made it a point to clean dad on a daily basis. Cleaning would take us up to an hour on a normal day. Morphine was administered 30 minutess before changing him for pain control.

Daily routine

Our routine began at 8.30am with a sponge bath, applying lotion on this body and tying his long hair which was precious to him. He often joked that his hair was his source of strength, just like Samson in the Bible. After freshening up, we would position dad in the most comfortable position. Switching of positions would be made every two to three hours to avoid bed sores.

Even with morphine, changing and cleaning dad were a challenge. As the cancer spread to the spine, arms, pelvic, and the thigh bones, every movement was agonising. 

My dad was a very brave and strong man. To see an active man now confined to bed but remain positive about life was admirable.  

Last birthday party

On December 11, something prompted me to get a cake for Melvin’s birthday. I chose dad’s favourite – a black forest cake.

We celebrated the birthday with dad and he ate the cake. Eryn, my daughter live-streamed the birthday for her two siblings in Kuala Lumpur. Little did we know it would be our last day with him.

Goodbye

The following day, I came down at 7am as usual all set to start my day. That morning, I found dad in ‘deep sleep’. As I approached him, I realised there wasn’t any movement.

Not believing what I saw, I then checked his breathing… there was nothing. That’s when I went hysterical, knowing that I’ve lost my dad. For me, that day was the most painful goodbye and the pain still eats into me even after a month of his passing.

We took turns to say our last farewell to dad. Melvin in his special way, gave dad a peck on the forehead as he does every night before going to bed. This time, he knew it would be his last and clung on for an eternity.

No regrets

After all our goodbyes, we brought out his best suit, the one he wore on his Alaskan cruise, and some of his favourite clothing and footwear for his last journey.

Caring for dad for the past months have taught me a valuable quality – patience.  As I carry such spirit within in minding dad, nothing he did or say affected me in any negative way any more.

We are just thankful that we could afford to have dad spend his last months with us. We will always miss you, dad, and you will always have a special place in our hearts. – January 11, 2018.