In 2019 shortly after Christmas my dad was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma of the tonsil and began treatment, an aggressive six weeks of radiotherapy and weekly chemo to try and clear it.

My dad was a single father and raised me and my sister, we were a very close net family of three so when his diagnosis came we were hit full on with it.

Me and my sister each took on roles of care for my dad throughout his five year battle with cancer, it was and probably will always be the hardest thing I've ever done.

After his treatment failed he was diagnosed as terminal in 2021, he slowly became more poorly over time as the cancer spread.

My dad didn't have carers until the very end months of his life, we managed to share the weight of it between us, this is where St Luke's comes in.

On the 30th of March 2023 I received a text message from my dad at 6:30 in the morning saying that he had a bleed but he was okay and should be discharged later today.

I called him immediately and again he reiterated he was okay, he passed me onto the paramedics that were taking care of him and they assured me everything was fine as well and to come up to hospital when I could, I was five months pregnant at the time with my first child, my gender scan was booked the day after this day.

Upon arriving at the hospital which me and my sister were pretty relaxed at because we were told there was nothing to worry we couldn't find dad in A&E.

My partner who went to park the car called me and said that he was outside the front entrance and had just thrown up and had been taken away by paramedics.

Me and my sister go to make our way to that spot, hospital staff were waiting for us there. Dad hadn't vomited it was straight blood and a good couple pints splattered on the pavement.

We began to panic understandably, we were whisked off to resus, there we saw dad and gave him a hug, he was conscious and alert and we were very confused and had no idea what had happened.

The paramedics there then broke the news that my dad's carotid artery has been weakened by his cancer, it had split open, and we were told this was a terminal event and he had days at best.

I was confused and hurt and angry, I barely remember anything after being told this, I remember my sister screaming that's about it.

I asked the doctor caring for my dad whether I could get a day early ultrasound so I could tell my dad the gender of his grandson, they sorted it out for me and I told my dad I was having a little boy.

With days as a diagnosis everything was a massive rush to get care sorted for him, he couldn't be kept in the hospital against his will so he went home and we stayed there with him trying to organise things and get things in place ready for the time.

Four days passed at home with nothing apart from dad being a bit run down understandably after losing so much blood. He then suffered another bleed, I thought he died, he lost two litres of blood on a lino floor so it looked alot more devastating.

I stood there in shock, I couldn't move and my sister screamed on the phone to the ambulance. We were given a rescue medicine that we were told to administer if he had another bleed, a calming one. I tried, but he was losing so much blood from his mouth that the medicine just ran out with it.

After two big bleeds in a short amount of time we knew if he had another he wouldn't survive it, it was a miracle he survived the second, so we were pointed towards St Luke's hospice.

Although we were frightened of what was to come the staff at St Luke's were literal angels in our darkest hours, they took over the care aspect so we were able to enjoy being daughters again for however long we had.

Up at turnchapel hospice we made so many wonderful memories with dad, he loved to sit in the gardens with us and feed the fish at the koi pond.

I have a memory bear that the hospice organised with dads voice leaving a message for Ollie, his grandson.

Although the circumstances were dire and terrifying St Luke's and all their staff made it as best as it could be I can never thank them enough and I have been raising money since they day after my dad passed away.

A month went by with nothing happening so he was discharged from the hospice as there was nothing anyone could do, and dad wanted to be at home.

From this point on the next three months was a gradual decline of his cancer, he got several infections and was just in general decline, but he was still walking and alert and very much mentally with it.

He bounced in and out of hospice a few times during this period and then by some miracle four months after his first bleed he got to meet his grandson Ollie Stuart Hancock.

He was fighting to see him and after meeting him he declined fast, he still tried to fight to stay at home but he couldn't manage it.

He'd discharged himself from the hospice again mid September, this time the hospice called me and asked whether I wanted a room blocked out for dad just in case he couldn't manage at home (which he couldn't but he was stubborn) I said yes.

Three days later we brought him back in and got settled again. That stubborn man I swear, he fought until the very end.

On the 30th of September I received a call from the hospice asking for us to come in as dad had suffered another bleed, I was in a state of false security thinking he'd survive this one like the others.

Upon arriving at the hospice it was clear he wouldn't, I had six week old Ollie with me.

I remember walking into the hospice room seeing him propped up against two nurses in full gear holding a bowl under his mouth as blood gushed out of it.

He wasn't unconscious but he wasn't conscious either. I went to grab his head and I rested it on my chest, I calmly hugged him and spoke to him, I think he knew I was there, his legs and arms kind of twitched, I think he was trying to tell me that he knew I was there.

He then entered a full state of no consciousness, he was propped up in bed in a position where the blood flowed downwards instead of out of his mouth so it was less distressing for everyone.

He then passed away at 1pm that day, the nurses the dinner lady's the receptionists everyone at St Luke's I can never do enough to repay them, one dinner lady who we had become friendly with looked after my six week old baby while I cried holding dad's hand just after he died.

I have never seen such compassion and care like the care at St Luke's and seven months on I still feel the same, I will continue to raise money for them for as long as I am alive as to try and pay them back for everything they did for me and my family.

My dad's death was brutal and horrific in nature I am still actively suffering from nightmares from it. I am still grieving and will be for a while yet.

None of us including dad himself could have coped with the end of his life without St Luke's, without them I dread to think about what would've happened. I thank them everyday because I strongly believe it was their care that kept dad with us for long enough to meet his grandson.