A recent report shows that more could have been done to protect my father. Now we need a public inquiry
“He’s a very sick man,” a doctor told me three days after my dad, Ranjith Chandrapala, was admitted to hospital with Covid-19. “You can FaceTime with him,” they added. That’s when I knew Dad was going to die.
Until then I’d hoped for a miracle, counting the advantages that would get Dad through this: his robust health, his excellent diet, his optimistic spirit. But at the point of his approaching death, I felt a physical shift, as if my innards were falling through me. Our relationship, which had sustained me for my entire life, was about to end. The doctors wrapped a phone in plastic before handing it to us to view the screen. We saw Dad lying on the hospital bed, beautiful in repose despite the ventilator tubes and medical equipment. We cried as we gave what we feared would be our last goodbyes.
