I agree. I got a similar call that my dad was killed at work when I was in my early 20s. Due to the circumstances I'm not convinced it wasn't intentional on his part, and in some odd ways I get a bit of relief from that. It was devastating to me, but watching my wife and the mother of my children go through a tortuous 26 months of treatments, unrelenting pain, cycles of hope and despair, various indignities and ultimately passing in a confused state was orders of magnitude worse.
Similarly, the despair and agony is really what hit me most. Last autumn, my father began experiencing occasional cramps in one leg after a regular 75k bike ride. During the following month, the pain gradually spread throughout his body and increased in frequency, seemingly for no apparent reason, based on medical tests and scans. He slowly stopped eating as his body was being consumed day and night: he lost healthy weight at a rate of one pound per day. As muscle weakness spread and as he lost his faculty to walk, he grew steadily delirious with pain and lack of sleep. By the 1st of December, he was in hospital full time undergoing a barrage of tests to no avail; a diagnosis of ALS was given mid-month. During the following week, he spoke his last words. In the throes of his body collapsing, he would tear out IV and catheter. At the rate at which his situation was deteriorating, feeding tube and intubation coupled with restraints appeared cruel. He passed before the end of the year.
