THE DAY DAD STARTED COUGHING
BEFORE the pandemic struck, Martin Ward’s father, Geoffrey, 76, was ‘fit as a fiddle’. In 2005, the former printer suffered a serious brain injury in a car accident – which left him requiring round-the-clock care.
‘He was healthy, but he would wander off, and had no spacial awareness, so he needed watching,’ explained Martin, 44, a married fatherof-two from Ulverston, in Cumbria. Geoffrey lived with family members until 2017, after which time he moved into a care home just five minutes down the road – and his sons would visit regularly. In March, visits were halted. ‘We were allowed to see each other through a window, which wasn’t perfect as his attention span wasn’t long and he’d wander off. But under the circumstances, it was fine,’ said Martin.
Then, on April 18 came the call. ‘The care home manager told us he was coughing and had a temperature,’ Martin said. ‘She said it was probably Covid, but seemed calm. So initially, I thought it was something he’d get over.
‘But the next day – this is the most upsetting part – a doctor called and told us there was no doubt it would end his life, that he wouldn’t go to hospital, and the home would give him morphine to keep him calm.
‘My father hadn’t been tested, but the doctor said they’d assessed him in a video call, and from his symptoms they believed it was Covid.’
Over the next few days, as they received reports that their father’s condition was worsening, Martin and his brother Andrew had a
number of conversations with the GP. ‘I asked whether he needed oxygen and was told it would not benefit a man of his age,’ he said.
That week, Geoffrey was found on the floor of his room.
‘The paramedics came and assessed him, found no injuries, put him in bed, and left,’ Martin said.
‘We were allowed to visit, in full PPE, standing on the other side of the room. My father was sitting up in bed, but his breathing was laboured and he seemed really unwell. We asked again if he needed to go to hospital, as that’s what would have happened if he’d still been living with us, but the answer was no. They said he’d just be given morphine when the time came.’
On April 26, the home called to say Geoffrey had taken a turn for the worse. By the time his sons arrived, he was dead.
Martin is left bewildered and heartbroken: ‘To this day, I still don’t understand why he wasn’t offered intervention. He was physically fit, had no ailments and enjoyed life. They should have tried. I think from the day he started coughing, it was decided that he would die, and that was it.’