Climb Every Mountain ...

Now, I'm aware of my tendency to 'go too far' with things, but I can explain about the photos. It was Children In Need and the school staff were in need of being cheered up, so we all decided to go in fancy dress along with the pupils. The theme was ... someone famous! So, who more famous than the Mother Superior from the Sound Of Music! Hopefully the second picture puts my outfit in context and allays your fears. I had two very strange conversations whilst clothed in habit and wimple. The first was with a parent. She rang the buzzer at the hatch of the school office and I immediately dropped to my knees and prayed that the secretary was there and able to speak to the parent. When it rang for the fourth time, I knew I had to appear. I boldly walked into the office and up to the hatch and the parent said, "Oh hello. I am just dropping off Tom's lunch box. He left without it. Also, have you got a copy of the sports club letter that went out on Wednesday?" Not a word about my appearance! No acknowledgement that the headteacher was dressed as a nun...
My second conversation took place with one of our dinner ladies. She came in and said, "Have you come dressed as any nun, or did you have a particular nun in mind?" I quickly replied, "Well Mary is dressed as Maria Von Trapp ... " The dinner lady looked relieved and said, "Oh, you're THAT nun. Okay." With that she left. However, at the end of lunchtime, she came back into my office again and asked, "Have you based your outfit on the real historical character, or on the Mother Superior as portrayed in The Sound Of Music?" I explained that I was unsure of the appearance of the real nun and thus couldn't help but be influenced by the strong yet tender, fierce yet gentle, woman that sang "Climb Every Mountain" so beautifully by the open window. With that she just nodded and left. It clearly answered a question that was troubling her. I have no idea what that question was!

Onto safer topics. We are fine at the moment, although I have been struggling with the pain. My painkillers tend to wear off about 4.00am and I start waking up at regular intervals until the alarm goes off. I think the increase in pain is inevitable but it shakes confidence, to be honest. The trump card is the fact that I can have a major dose of localised radiotherapy that is predicted to have a significant impact in the short term. However, I can only ever have one (two at an absolute push) and so I want to delay this if I can. I have a blood test on 7th of December that will inform another consultation on 14th December. This will be a much more informed update than the last one and so inevitably we will be more anxious. I have to say that our faith remains intact, but it is much more difficult to be consistently hopeful when you are just going further and further down the inevitable road and we do find ourselves struggling with a sense of the inevitable. We have also realised through conversation that our daughter Naomi, in particular, has little sense of what might be looming. She thinks that this is an illness like other illnesses she has come across ... it is taking longer than expected, but people eventually get better. However we don't feel it right to load her up with our fears and therefore while day to day life continues fairly normally (give or take a day or two when daddy dresses as a nun) then we will just keep going.

Lastly, highlight of the month ... dear friends Rachel, Anne and brother Simon coming down from Glasgow to cook us a meal in our house last Saturday. The food was of a disturbingly high standard. You should hire them ... honestly.

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When It's Spring Again, We'll Bring Again ...

Mary and I are just back from a child-free weekend in Amsterdam. What joy! My brother Phil, his wife Rosemary and their family came over to look after our cherubs and off we flew on Friday evening. It was our first visit to the city and we weren't disappointed. As the photos show, the people of Amsterdam very much took us to their hearts, even if they were a tad reserved.
(It is amazing what you are prepared to do when far away from home and responsibility. Mary had to be talked out of jumping up to sit in the arms of one of these fine men, and those of you who know her will realise that she was very serious!)

Now ... the lastest trip to the consultant. There have been no further scans, so in a sense they were just seeing how I was. That said, so as not to disappoint they managed a disturbingly thorough examination and said that there didn't seem to be obvious developments. I always find some of the questions alarming, such as "Have you started having difficulty breathing?" and "Are you managing to work?" It is an indicator of their expectations for me. However, I am still living day to day life in a normal fashion thanks to my pain killers and so at the moment it is still a case of 'just getting on'. Even life at school seems to be fairly smooth ... it is quite unnerving. Maybe I should try and introduce something wreckless and radical, such as a theory that there might be meaningful life outside the village, or I suppose I could try and persuade the community that 'National Bullying Week' isn't the opportunity to practise and thus become better at it!

I am starting regular blood tests so that the doctors can monitor my tumour markers. The first set of results and the next consultation is due on 14th December. This will guide them as to when to re-scan or start treatment. I was thinking today that on 7th February 2003 I officially had a 40% chance of being alive on the same date in 2008...

And so a poem, as it has been a while, on the theme of determination and persistence:



Knocking
One of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray.” … He said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and he goes to him at midnight and says, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, because a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have nothing to set before him.' I tell you… because of the man's persistence the neighbour will get up and give him as much as he needs.” (Luke chapter 11)

My memory guides me through the darkness
to my neighbour's door.
.
It is tight in its frame,
trapping warm breath from mouths
dry with wine and words,
now slack with slumber.
.
A guest waits in my home,
distance burning in his joints, hunger eating his belly.
.
I beat a pulse into the dead wood,
strain against bolts,
shake rust from hinges,
force words through cracks and gaps.
.
This door will stain my fist black and blue
until the skin swells up and cracks,
as if warm and full of yeast.
.
Bread is what I need ...
even dried out, crumbling,
cut up and thrown for sparrows.