In honour of Father’s Day on Sunday, 6 September, Nurse Uncut is featuring each of our nurse bloggers’ thoughts on this special occasion.
The first one is from Richard:
I am the proud Dad of my two sons Oliver 11 and Baxter 6. I am not here to bore you with all that I find great about being a Dad but just to say that I love being a Dad. I treat it as a privilege and in my opinion it’s the biggest responsibility I have ever been given.
Hey, you don’t have to take my word for it… I am reading a book called “The Biology of Belief” by Bruce Lipton PhD and it says…
”Frontier science is confirming what mothers and enlightened fathers have known forever, that parents do matter, despite best-selling books that try and convince them otherwise. To quote Dr Thomas Verny, a pioneer in the field of prenatal and perinatal psychiatry:”Findings in the peer-reviewed literature over the course of decades establish, beyond any doubt, that parents have an overwhelming influence on the mental and physical attributes of the children they raise.” (Verny and Kelly 1981)”
While as nurses we may not all be parents we can still however try to make the kids in our care feel like they are special and that they are important. Never underestimate the positive influence you can make in a child’s day, even just a simple smile and a friendly hello.
While my late Dad and I have fairly different approaches to parenting, the principles underpinning them are basically the same, let your kids know and feel that they are loved.
My Dad was very much old school where kids were seen and not heard and hugs were few and far between. Probably not surprising as his father was a Headmaster of a boys’ school.
I will never forget the day I was feeling at my absolute lowest when I got my Higher School Certificate results and opened the envelope (no internet back then) only to discover that I had failed. My Dad came home after work that day (he was a Bank Manager) and instead of being angry or disappointed he just let me know that he loved me and that I would get through it. I got to know and appreciate my Dad on a whole new level that day and hey, I did get through it.
Have there been times in your life when your Dad has come through for you when you really needed him to? How has your Dad shaped you?
Rich
photo by Tolchik at www.photoxpress.com
My Dad’s Advocate In my Dad’s final illness, he asked me to advocate for him. He was being cared for at home and thought a recent medication change was making him confused. My oldest sister had the lasting power of attorney which meant she was the person with the official say about his care. The change was made on a day when I had not been at the house.
It had an interesting effect. I wasn’t able to advocate for Dad the way I wanted to. However what I did do opened up conflict that had been buried for a long time. I don’t think Dad had any consciousness of what his request was going to do, but it was needed. I was the third of four children and I didn’t think I had a voice. Trying to advocate for Dad gave me a reason to find my voice. Failing to succeed the first time gave me motivation to keep on trying, something I needed to do.
That was some years ago now; the relationships have improved from that low. I’ve learned to let myself be a learner. Learners don’t get it perfect the first time; they simply keep on learning how to do things better. I’ve learned that I have a voice and am learning more about how to use it well. I’ve learned the importance of resolving conflict at the first opportunity instead of letting in become buried. The covering will always become eroded away when hard times hit.
When my Dad asked me to advocate for him, I wonder if he knew that I needed that opportunity to learn.
Hi Emiline, Thanks for your comment. Sounds as if your Dad saw in you something you hadn’t yet seen in yourself. I am sure he would have been proud of the job you did on his behalf. Rich
what good dad’s We learn so much from our dad’s don’t we. What a lovely experience to hold onto Rich and I see it’s enabled you to go on and have a successful career and be a good dad as well.
Thanks Rich,
I think you’re right, though it took me quite a few years to take myself off the hook and accept that my dad had asked me to do something because he couldn’t at that time and because he chose to entrust his concern to me, not necessarily because he thought I would do it perfectly. (See my thoughts on being learners in the discussion of magnet hospitals). I learned a lot from his request. All the same, it’s nice, especially after all this time, to have someone be positive about those events. It was a very hard time when I was there.
To Rich Your dad is very affectionate and you got his trait.So the saying goes….” Good seeds bears good fruit”. It’s good to be surrounded by good people!
My dad used to beat the crap out of us every Friday night after his return from the pub. He often used the metal three-pronged buckle of his belt to take skin off us. We actually were well-behaved, and didn’t need to do anything to get him going during his melancholic moments. My older brother (one year older) by age 13 remembered nothing of ever living overseas (we came here from Austria when he was 9)or of the language he grew up with. Just knows English. He was knocked unconscious many times by then. Father’s Day you had to thank him and give him apresent, then on Friday he beat you up again. Till I was 15 I went to bed with tacks on the floor (he walked barefoot at night)and pushed my cupboard against the door, and slept with a hunting knife in one hand and a steel bar in the other. Always had the window latch oiled so I could get out if needed. At 14, when he was hitting my mother, I hit him back and knocked him down, so he bolted outside, screaming :” you hit your father!”- cam back with an axe from his car, to chop into the door. Police arrived in time to give him a night to ‘sleep it off’, but in the morning they brought him home. All was forgotten by him,but he’d buy a present for everyone, except me (but my mother did tell me it was my fault for interfering). Had another brotehr 2 years younger, who died at 19 of a subarachnoid (post MVA) and that hurt him. The others hated him, but I’d broken into his ‘safe’ (a metal tin he brought from Austria, where he was working post war and met my mother). He’d joined the Hungarian army at age 14, then forced into German army at age 16, eventually joining a ‘Panzer’ battalion. 1944 he was captured in France, and in POW camp for 12 months. The French Foreign Legion followed for next 5.5 years, and his life was simple….kill, kill, kill (or be killed). After the war, he wasn’t allowed back into Hungary (now Russian controlled), so in 1960 the family came here for a new life. I feel I understood him, and the beatings didn’t kill me. I haven’t reorted to rape, murder or crime through my upbringing, so don’t fall for any crap when solicitors try to excuse those who have because they had a ‘hard upbringing’. those solicitors need shooting!
We buried our father with his parents and grandparents in the town where he was born, Torokszentmiklos.Those he’d left behind 55 years earlier tend to his grave every week. To them he’s a hero! He ‘was’ a good man once, based on his brothers and sister who remained behind while he went and lived in a living Hell. I remember his birthday, but my 4 other siblings don’t remember, or care. My mother wanted him dead years earlier, and left him 7 years after coming here (but didn’t take any of us with her). We were 15,14,12,10,6, and 2. The next year my older brother left home (to stay alive), while the 12 yr old would die at 19, the 10-yr old would leave at 15, and I stayed to pay the rent, and feed the others.
Though the tale isn’t as rosy as the above stories, there are many who live like this, and survive. I don’t hate my father at all, but envy the life he had, and am amazed that with 7 bullet holes and a few grenade wounds, he actually survived intact.