My Dad.

Alfred Noble Park

Oct 3 1945 - Feb 5 2012

My dad was a very special man. He was well known and well liked by a lot of people, not only in our home town, but also in the communities surrounding our home. In his 66 years, dad was on the town recreation, played darts, umpired softball, attended all the 45’s card games, big into politics, volunteered with the Canadian Cancer Society, and was president of the Golden Sunset 50+ Club.

When my dad was in his early 30’s he was diagnosed with Cancer. With three small children, and a wife he knew he would pull through it. He went through Chemotherapy, radiation and a number of surgeries. During some of this treatment, not only my dad but my mom and their youngest child, my sister Chrissie, who was about 2 at the time, were nine hours away from home on the other side of Newfoundland. After facing death quiet a few times (I was told), Dad got through it but was told that his family making day’s would be over.

Dad was a strong man. After getting over this terrible illness, he kept busy with the town recreation and getting involved in as much stuff as he could!

In 1982, my mothers sister-in-law tragically dropped dead leaving behind my Uncle, and three small Children. Being the loving people they were, without hesitation my mother went to be by her brothers side. As she leaves to do so, my father says, “If you take any of the children home, take John.” John was the eldest. My mother, she comes home with the baby! Pamela, three months old. Dad never said a word! They raised her and loved her like their own. I actually over heard dad three days before he passed telling the nurse that story!

In 1985, my parents were shocked to learn they were going to have another child of their own! After 10 years of thinking they could not have any more, they would defeat the odds and bring another baby into the world. I was born in May, 1986!

I was the baby. Dad was unable to work so my mother went to work. By the time I was born, my two oldest brothers were in their late teenage years. One living with his girlfriend and her mom, and the other pretty much living with his! All dad had left were three girls in the house and his wife.

When I’d get sick with the flu or a stomach bug Dad would be the one to take me to the Doctor. I remember one time laying across the chairs in the waiting room, my head on his lap. Rubbing my hair back, he’d say “I’d rather be sick myself then to see one of my children sick.” I was always his baby. Even when I was a teenager and we’d be at the grocery store, he would run into some old friend and introduce me, “this is my baby”!

Dad and I, my grade 12 Graduation, 2004

Dad wanted me to be a teacher, but when that wasn’t going to happen he was supportive of what I did decide to do with my life. He wasn’t sure at first that going to Cooking school was a very good decision, but he knew how much I truly loved it. He also wasn’t sure about me moving to another province with a man 16 years older than me, but he adored Darryl and the only thing he said was, “If it works out, great, if not, except it and come home!”

My parents aren’t the lovey-dovey- show your emotions kind of people. We knew that we loved each other, and to all of us, that was enough. The first time my dad told me he loved me was on the phone and it was after I had moved to Nova Scotia. After that day, he said it every time before he hung up the phone!

In the fall of 2010, I was home visiting my parents. Dad had not been feeling well, but he had planned a party for his 65^th birthday. He had been sick a few times over the last 10 years. Some times he would end up in the hospital with a bad stomach. X-rays, CT Scans, Blood work, the whole nine yards would be completed. Most of the time it would come back as scar tissue from his previous surgery causing blockages in his bowel. They would give him some pain meds and send him on his way. Now again, he had been back and forth to the Dr. trying to find out what was wrong. Two days before his party, he was scheduled for a bone marrow biopsy. Dad was no stranger to tests like this, but I was a little worried. It seemed like a big deal to me and I felt the Dr. must have thought something serious was wrong. I took dad that day, and I stayed with him in the room while he had the test done. Although I was behind a curtain, I could still hear everything that was going on.

Dad and Brenda having a dance at his 65th Birthday party!



After that, we had his party, he seemed to be doing pretty good and the test results came back okay. The Dr. said he couldn’t see anything wrong.

In the winter of 2011, my dad began to getting really sick. This time something was different. His blood counts were off. His haemoglobin was low. They started giving him blood transfusions. This would make him feel better for a few weeks, but then he would get sick again. Dizzy spells, no energy, hot spells, cold sweats, sleeping a lot, no appetite….all of which was very upsetting, not only to him, but to my mom and our whole family. Dad finally got an appointment in August, 2011 to see a specialist.

August came and I decided I needed to go home to visit before Dad’s appointment. My sister and her two kids, who live in New Brunswick decided they would come with me and surprise mom and dad! I am so glad we did! It was wonderful! Although dad wasn’t himself, he did lighten up a bit when he saw the grand kids and he did play some games of cards! Scat! The family favourite! I thought then, he’s going to be okay!

The appointment date came. My brother, his girlfriend, mom and dad made the nine hour trek across the province. The Dr. told him his spleen was enlarged. That over the last few months….even maybe a year, his spleen had been increasing significantly in size. After looking at how many blood transfusions he had had, she was thinking that is where all the blood was. His spleen was holding on to it. It had to be removed! Dad wanted to go back home and have it done there, so off they went. When he got back home, there wasn’t a Dr. there willing to do the surgery. Said it was too dangerous. Dad was upset. He put it off. Went home and just put up with being sick.

That October, I went home again for his birthday. He was terrible….miserable. He was depressed and angry. His family doctor would call the house to check on him and he would lie to him. Tell him he “wasn’t too bad….” I was so upset. How could he just lay there! How could he not fight for the surgery? I tried to talk to him…tell him he had to go in the hospital or nothing would be done. He wouldn’t listen.

The day I left, he had a phone call that a surgeon had accepted him and he had to go the next day for pre-admission. While he was in the waiting room, he collapsed. He didn’t get to his pre-admission. He was admitted and given two more units of blood. The surgeon changed his mind. They would call St John’s and have the surgery done there. I went back home. I was off work for the winter, and I was the only person who could go with them. Mom doesn’t drive and there was no way I wad going to let her be alone anyway.

We waited a week before they got the transfer…then another two before the surgery actually took place, on October 28th. It was scary. There was a high risk of bleeding and we didn’t know how it was going to go. After 5 hours, he came out with flying colours! The surgery was a success! He felt 100% better almost immediately. Within two weeks, he was ready to go home. But they wouldn’t release him. Not until the results came back from the spleen. (Which was twice the size of his head when they removed it, I might add. It’s only suppose to be the size of your fist!) So we waited…we waited some more. My brothers and their families came to visit on the weekends when they could…my sister and her daughter came for a few days. It was late November when the head Dr of the Haematology department came in. My brother, his wife, two kids, mom and myself were all there with dad. She sat us down and told us that some, but not all, results were back and dad had a type of blood cancer. She didn’t have name. Said it looked like it could be a lymphoma but she wasn’t 100% sure yet and she didn’t want to make any assumptions. She said it was very treatable but Dad would need treatment.

We all cried. We thought we were in the clear! The King-Kong sized spleen was removed! It was gone! He was better! He felt fine! Dad stopped and looked at us, “why are you crying? She said it was treatable!” I didn’t know what to say. I was just so scared. Dad asked if he could go back to Corner Brook for his treatment, but she said he would have to stay there and be closely monitored. Two days later he started a IV drip Chemotherapy and then 7 days of pills, 16 pills a day, then another IV drip and another 7 days of pills. After this, he would be off the meds for two weeks, and then they would see how he was and he would do it all over again. The initial schedule was suppose to be 7 months.

He seemed to be taking the treatment well. He did loose his appetite and a lot of weight…and he didn’t have much energy, but we went for little walks every day up and down the hall way. Mom would wash him every morning and I would change his bed sheets. We’d brush his teeth, make him wash out his mouth, lay in bed, rub his back, force him to eat and make him laugh. That’s all we could do. There were some great nurses, but dad preferred us to do as much as possible for him!

On December 15^th they released dad from the hospital for Christmas break. They were still waiting for more results of the spleen to come back and said he could go home for a little while. Darryl flew in and we drove my parents across the province. Dad was not well. He was sick from the moment he got out of the hospital. He couldn’t walk without help and could hardly eat a bite. I was really worried.

Getting ready to go home for Christmas! Dec 15th, 2011

When we got back to my parents, Darryl and I decided we would go on home to Nova Scotia. I had been away from my home for 10 weeks and Christmas was only a few days away. Mom and dad insisted I go home with my family. So off we went. It was so very hard to leave my very ill father and my poor mother behind. I knew my sister and my brother were next door, and it was their turn, but that didn’t make it any easier.

I got home….I got my tree…I baked a few things, and we had Christmas. Dad was miserable. It pained me to call home or to get phone calls from them. Mom was having a hard time. Up all hours of the night, having to bathe him and help him. He wouldn’t get out of bed or eat. He was very depressed and very irritable. Dad was home for two weeks. The Dr called and wanted blood work. They took him in and he was admitted. He was fading fast. They decided to air lift him back to St John’s and give him another round of treatment. My brother took my mom this time. I was studying and really could not go. They got him there, started the treatment again but it wasn’t helping. His tests were looking really bad. His liver was failing. There was nothing more they could do. Treatment stopped. It took four days to get him air lifted back home to Corner Brook where he was then placed in palliative care. I flew home on air miles given to me by friends we had made in St John’s….so did my sister and her oldest child, my father’s first grand child. It was horrible. Heartbreaking. My worse fears had come true. I was going to loose my daddy.

We sat there for 5 days….watching as he slowly let go. Some moments he knew us, some he did not. I stayed with him the first night alone. We watched hockey and talked. Some things he said didn’t make any sense to me, but he did know I was there. I sat there all night as he slept…watching him…sometime I would put my hand on his back to make sure he was still breathing. It was something I never thought I would have to do.

When he did decide to leave us, it was time. My cousin was in the room with him and it was around 10 pm at night. The nurse had come to tell us she had just checked on him and he was comfortable. She sat down next to me and told me that I should go back in the room, that there was nothing to be afraid of and that it would be peaceful and not horrible. I told her I couldn’t. I had seen enough and I just couldn’t go back in there. She just smiled and squeezed my hand and walked back out of the family room. I got up…and walked to dad’s room door. I opened the door and walked to the side of the bed. My cousin looked up and told me he was gone. Said he took his last breath as I opened the door. It was 10:15 pm, February 5^th, 2012. I put my hand on his chest. Nothing. He was gone. I just stood there…then I ran down the hallway to the nurses station. The nurses came, and they too confirmed he was gone.

I couldn’t even cry. I went out and told my aunt, my sister, my brother and his girlfriend….my sister came back into the room with me. She cried and cried and cried. I just stood there looking at him. This wasn’t the man who raised me. This wasn’t the man who I called Dad. This body laying in the bed looked nothing like what I wanted to see when I remembered my father. My dad was gone long before the night he passed away.

I will always love my dad. I miss him every day. He was a huge part of my life. I still have emails from him that I will read and re-read. I know he was proud of me and I know he loved me. It is so hard to believe that I will never see his face or hear his voice again.

Natasha