This page has been set up in loving memory of my dad and hero Herbert Barry Coe… AKA Bert!

My dad was a hard working man his whole life, paid into the system, never had a sick day and provided for his family every day of his life.

He was a jack of all trades, he was an estate agent, London bus driver, publican,  general manager of various piers and amusements, as well as juggling a home and a family which he loved and doted on.

He has left behind his wife Shirley, children Anna, David, Steven and Donna, and grandchildren that he lived for Freddie, Isobel and Joshua.

My dad was the smartest man I knew, there was nothing he couldn't do, and watching him do the crosswords and sums in the papers everyday used to bring a smile to my face, as I was still figuring the first one out when he had finished.

Dad finally and reluctantly retired in 2005, and from then on he was never the same. He suffered with thyroid problems in which he had to have them removed, he had a heart murmur, and on the same day that my mum had her first bout of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer, dad suffered a stroke.

This shook him up and he gave up his 40 a day smoking habit there and then and never looked back.

Last Christmas in 2014 dad started to suffer with a pain in his hip, it got worse and worse, and we had to take him to the doctors frequently for blood tests and different medications to deal with what they had diagnosed it as gall stones and sciatica. As a family were not convinced and asked for 2^nd, 3^rd, 4^th and 5^th opinions.

We had to push all the way and fight the system the whole way, due to expenditure and cutbacks being made James Paget were reluctant to give him scans which he needed. They first did an ultra sound, which we were not happy with, he then had an MRI and CT scan after a lot of pushing from us all.

On May 18^th 2015, my dad sat me down in front of him, held my hand and cried, it was the worst moment of my whole life, he told me he had cancer of the lung, which had now spread to his spine and bones, and it was terminal. This is where this nightmare began for us….

My mum and I attended every hospital appointment with dad, which got harder and harder as he was quickly becoming immobile and needed aids to walk and stand. We brought him wheelchairs, a chair to stand him up, an ambulance chair to get him about through his narrow hallway at home, a commode, and a hospital bed, because my dad’s final wish was that he was cared for at home, he was a very proud man, and always hated the idea of people having to do things for him, especially on the care side of things.

On the 8^th and 10^th of July my dad underwent radiotherapy treatment as chemo was no longer an option but unfortunately for my dad it was too late and he never got to reap the benefits of it.

Due to dad wanting to stay at home we contacted everyone possible, but received no help!! None!!

I contacted Macmillan on several occasions in which they would reply with “we are sorry you need a referral from….. Or, he doesn’t quite qualify for this form of care”… I wasn’t sure how “terminally” ill my poor dad had to be, but no one would help. We literally begged and pleaded. We had a lovely district nurse come round once, then she went on holiday. We were given a list of different contacts including Sandra Chapman and the palliative care team, all of which denied us help.

We had a doctor come round that dad was close to and we all know as a family, and he was brilliant. Dad became completely bed ridden and incontinent but still had his marbles about him!! He asked the doctor if he could go in a home, because we could not control his pain, and the poor man’s dignity was slowly diminishing and he was embarrassed having his family care for him in the way we had to. He got us all together and said that he wants to go into care where they can look after him and we can spend quality time with him and visit him, which we did.

Within 2 days on the 28^th July  my dad was taken to Beccles district memorial hospital via ambulance with me and mum by his side, it was the saddest and hardest journey of my whole life watching dad look out of the window knowing this would be his last ever car journey, the last time he would see trees, houses, birds.. It was awful.. However, the care he received was top draw, the nurses and doctors where lovely and they not only took care of my dad but all of us as well.

We had a fight on our hands within 3 weeks as the hospital were making cutbacks due to the government and were going to move my dad to a non NHS funded care facility because he had not died within the 3 week period they had wanted and therefore would have to pay for his own death in a care home.

My brother fought my dad’s corner, as my dad would have done for us, he received a disciplinary for his language which we can look back now and laugh at. But they said my dad had not showed a decline in the 3 weeks. My brother being similar to my dad had evidence, medical records, phots of dad days apart, and the knowledge that my dad within 3 weeks had been catheterised, lost his speech, couldn’t move at all, couldn’t swallow, eat or hold a cup to his mouth and couldn’t even wear his own teeth… with this evidence behind him they had no choice but to leave my dad where he was to die in peace.

On the 21^st august we had a phone call to say he had declined and was nearing the end…. We all came over and said our goodbyes but to our astonishment the next day he was awake… every morning from then on we got phone call between 4am and 5am to say to come in and this was it…. My mum stayed overnight and never left his side for 6 days… My brother and I stayed there for 14-15 hours a day to sit with him and reassure him. He suffered throughout the whole dreadful illness and until the very end of his life he was in pain and was scared.

Dad finally passed on the 27^th august with my mum by his side holding his hand… he was finally at peace and out of pain. Unbeknown to us we later found out that the doctor that initially sent him there had given the hospital an estimation of between 4 and 5 weeks, dad died within 4 weeks and 3 days of being there.

I know that my dad hated wasting money, and was a stickler for spending it wisely. So I have set this page up for him, not only for friends and family but anyone that has been hit by his story and would like to donate either in his name or someone you may know or love that has maybe gone through or is going through a similar experience… Let’s make a change today and not let my dad die in vain.

Anna :)