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Ten years ago today, I went downstairs to eat breakfast and heard my Dad calling my name. I called an ambulance but it was already too late. He died from a Pulmonary Embolism, brought on from a recent trekking holiday in Nepal, long-haul flights and sitting down WFH.
I miss hearing him speak French on the phone, I miss the way he tucked his t-shirts into his jeans, I miss arguing with him, even. When the grief and the guilt and the sense of injustice threaten to swallow me up, I come back to how lucky I was to have him as my dad.
With that in mind, and with so many people staying indoors and sitting down for long hours, please look out for DVTs and PEs. They can strike at any time and are treatable if caught early enough. Please get up and move around every so often - go for a walk today, for me.
My father was an atheist - a Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens-reading atheist. But I hope there is some mountain range in the sky where they play Northern Soul all night long. And look how beautiful my mum is in this picture.
My mum and my little brother are amazing and today the sun is shining.
Please support @ThrombosisUK, they're great.
Please support @ThrombosisUK, they're great.
