The blog I didn’t want to write.

The Assisted Dying bill is back in the news as it reaches its next stage.

It’s not assisted dying – the media have misnamed it. It’s actually the terminally ill adults end of life bill. Put like that makes more sense.

When last I wrote my Dad was seriously ill in hospital and still managed to grin and make us giggle. ‘ pain in the arse’.

As the days wore on it was exhausting and distressing for everyone, especially him. But without going into all the detail the palliative team arrived. Much like with my mum. They were funny, matter of fact, professional and they had the power. The power to tell the SHO to stop interventions. The power to stop unnecessary medications, scans and blood tests. The power to prescribe a syringe driver and all the necessary drugs to try to relieve suffering and reduce anxiety . Unlike mum. You may remember my county lines drive around coffee -bean -never- nether -skanky MK to get the bloody drugs for her syringe driver. For Dad. In hospital it was all available. Immediately. Allowing family to take turns to be with him. Give him sips of whisky. Oh yes palliative team suggested that. And to allow him to rest at last.

Dad died on Saturday evening 23 November . We are shocked dismayed and numb at the distressing last weeks and months. We can say we made the right decisions at the right times. No one can possibly argue with that.