My Dadu

My dad was an extremely compassionate and kind man. He was a man of few words, but they were always kind words. I used to call him Dadu. This was my nickname for him. My Dadu had a very dry sense of humour. He never raised his voice at us, he was soft spoken and highly respected not just in the UK but in our village in Pakistan too. He was a very active man. Prior to the cancer, he had already been diagnosed with diabetes and this severely impacted his vision. He had very weak eyesight in his left eye and was totally blind in the right. Unfortunately, he lost his eyesight completely around 6 years before he passed. During one conversation he told me that out of his 8 grandchildren he doesn’t know what the younger 2 look like. He could recognise me and my sisters by our touch and could recognise my mum by her voice.

In November 2016 my Dadu became ill. It was just your normal chesty cough and temperature. After a few visits to the doctors, we were told not to worry, and that he would be fine. The calls to the doctors continued well into January 2017 as his cough would not go away and he kept getting a temperature. We tried so many remedies, but nothing worked. We decided to take him into A&E, and they admitted him. He stayed in hospital until mid-February. He could not fight the infections. He was discharged when he got slightly better. By March we were back in hospital again, and this time my Dadu had a lump in his groin and was dragging his right leg. This was the first-time the doctors tentatively mentioned cancer. They followed procedure and carried out biopsies and scans.

My Dadu was a very private person so had requested earlier on that the female nurses do not touch him. So, me and my elder sister took it in turns to bathe him, change him and look after him. My younger sister is an Aalima and my Dadu felt she shouldn’t clean him out of respect for her being an Aalima, so she would assist in feeding and dressing him. My elder sister wasn’t working at the time, so spent more time with him. I was working full time so had to go into the office but after a while it got too much. In March, I had a breakdown at work. The stress was really getting to me and after that I was allowed to work from home. I worked from my Dadu’s bedside and then spent the night keeping an eye on him. Me and my sister would take it in turns. My Dadu became extremely sensitive to touch and would not allow my brothers to handle him as it would hurt him.

We kept going. I knew I had to be strong for my Dadu and my family. My sisters and friends kept me going. Our deen kept me going, because deep down I knew that this is not the end.

I come from a practising family so through faith we kept hoping and praying that things would get better. My Dadu was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in May. At this point we were told he had about 6 months to live. The Oncologists met with us and explained that my Dadu was too old for any treatment, and he would not survive chemo or radiotherapy so they would trial him with steroids to see how he would react to this. A treatment plan was created. As suspected my Dadu did not respond to the steroids at all. Instead, he developed Epididymitis, caused by an infection from the catheter they had put in. The doctors told us there was nothing more they could do apart from treat his infection and make him comfortable. We did not tell him he had cancer. We did not know how to explain it to him, so we focused on keeping him comfortable and making as many memories as we could.

My Dadu was old and deep down we all knew he probably would not make it. We had made peace with this and as Muslims we knew that this is not the end and In Sha Allah, we will meet him again in Jannah. My elder sister however wanted a second opinion A consultant who had come from the States agreed to meet my sister and assess my Dadu’s case. He concluded with the same and advised us to take him home as he probably had 2 weeks. We bought Dadu home and 10 days later, on 15th Ramadan after Maghrib salah, my Dadu told us he is leaving, read his Shahada and returned to Our Lord.

If there is one thing, I would have told myself before going through this, is that we do not need to suppress our emotions. We do not need to be strong for everyone, all the time. It is okay to not be okay. It is okay to breakdown. It is okay to ask for help. It is so important to have people around you that can keep you sane, who are there for you unconditionally. The support network is extremely important. This is the biggest lesson I have learnt from this experience. We all need emotional support. Talking about it really does help. You often don’t realise you are drowning until it is too late. Don’t push people away. Cry out loud if that will help you.

My biggest advice to someone who is going through something similar would be to speak to someone about how you are feeling, find the small things that make you happy, even if it is having a cup of tea alone or reading a book. Whatever is meant to happen will happen with the decree of Allah, but it is important you don’t lose yourself in the process.