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| Rosalea Mia Brown born in Edinburgh |
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| Our son and his family in Edinburgh. |
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| I was presented with this and a voucher to mark 25 years as a Workplace Chaplain |
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| How life changes - taken I think about 1980, my wife and I are 3rd and 4th from the left. |
Death...
While we were on holiday I had a phone call from my friend Graeme's sister. He had died some weeks before, had not wanted a funeral, but now she was inviting me to be present as his family buried his ashes at his parents' plot. "Would you like to be there with the family?" she asked. "Yes." I replied. Graeme had been a good friend during our school days. "Would you be able to say a few words. We haven't a clue what to do?" "Yes, I would be happy to, we were good mates!" I said wondering if I would be up to doing it. I had been wheezing and coughing a lot and been getting very tired. So a couple of weekends later, after taking a part in an annual service remembering Merchant Navy seamen and their part in the World Wars, my wife and I headed for the cemetery. We joined the family around the prepared hole in the ground. I introduced myself because some would not have known me, then asked the people gathered to share memories and thoughts. One by one they did with each bouncing off other comments. When it seemed right I said a few words and invited his sister to put the little named box of ashes in the hole. She stepped forward knelt and put it in. She couldn't get it to fit under the plinth, so she looked up at me and asked, "David can you do it for me?" I knelt, gently took the box from her hands and moved it into place. "Thanks for your friendship Graeme." I said quietly, as I placed his remains in place. Then it hit me, I was burying a school mate, maybe I could be next, certainly I am of the age and I was wheezing. We finished the brief ceremony and took turns at filling in the hole. One cousin's wife, with Maori heritage, softly sang a spontaneous appropriate song, which was quite unexpected and moving. Afterward we left the family to go to a restaurant together and we went for some coffee. I found it quite an emotional experience.
Birth...
While we were on holiday we received word that our seventh grandchild, a girl, had been born in Edinburgh. Rosalea Mia Brown came into the world and we received a photo on our phone. It is moments like this that makes the distance between NZ and Edinburgh, Scotland, seem so far away. It may as well be in space! We have since met a few times on Skype but sometime it will be great to hold her physically and share the delight with her family. Life goes on, a new generation begins to take over.
Hospitals again.
After 2018 being bugged by health issues, I looked forward to 2019 being my healthy year. Last year I was treated for my over-active thyroid, (treatment continues) I had a prolapsed disk in my back that caused issues, and I was hospitalised three times with my prostate problems. "2019, turn the page, be healthy and get fit again", was my New Year motto. But I have been wheezy and struggling with shortness of breath. I thought that it would come right, but it didn't. Then one Monday evening I was sitting watching TV and I went into a coughing spree. I flaked out, collapsing forward in the chair. It was funny because my wife thought I was joking and ignored my performance, then suddenly realised I was actually out to it. She started shouting at me and banging me on my back. I came to wondering what had happened, and just said, "Stop hitting me!" We ignored the event and carried on. Just after midnight on the Wednesday night I woke up coughing and gasping for breath. "It feels like I am drowning!" I said to my wife. On the Thursday I went to my brewery chaplaincy and walked up six stories of steps. I had done this once a week for twenty four years, but this time when I reached the top I was desperately holding on to the handrail to stay upright and gasping for breath! I met my wife briefly for lunch and told her, before she went to her volunteer work at the hospital. She texted me later, "Made an appointment with the Doctor for tomorrow at 2pm." She insisted on coming into the doctor's room with me. He checked me out. "It could be heart?" he commented. "It could be asthma?" I went down the hall gave blood for blood tests and was given an ECG. All was well, so I was given an inhaler, and told that a chest x-ray was booked and an appointment was made to see the Doctor again in a week. I later had a call from the medical centre advising that a blood test had raised an issue and if it got worse to go straight to the hospital emergency department. The next Thursday on my way to visit my brewery people again, I called at the hospital for the booked appointment with the x-ray department for a chest x-ray. It was taken and I asked the technician if my doctor would have the results for my appointment with him the next day. She commented, "I need to see a doctor here, can you wait here for five minutes?" She came back and informed me that I had "to go straight down to the emergency department, the Doctor was forwarding the x-ray to them." She actually led me there, I think to make sure I didn't escape. Long story short, I ended up in the respiratory ward and there, for the rest of the day, a doctor drained in excess of two litres of pink coloured fluid from around my left lung! The nurses, technicians and doctors were simply fabulous people. They were baffled as to why I had the fluid, but said honestly and openly, they were looking for cancer. I have since had a CT scan and last Friday my wife and I went in for a consultation. "We have not found any sign of cancer, but we still do not know why the fluid was there." They went on to say that the tests so far made them 80% sure that cancer was not present. My options were to carry on, and have a further chest x-ray in a month to see if fluid built up again, or they could do key hole surgery to go in and have a look... which if it was clear would make them 97% sure there was no cancer. "If there is cancer," they said, "it will be treatable but not able to be cured." They invited us to go away, have a cup of tea and decide what we wanted to do. We did, our daughter joined us, and I have decided to have the keyhole operation, so that I know what is happening. So in the next couple of weeks I'll be back in hospital. In some ways I am not worried. If it is all bad news, I have had a good life, can look back with satisfaction and die in peace. (though I would not like looking forward to slowly losing the ability to breathe. I could think of better ways of going.) I mentioned to my wife that if it was bad, I would leave her in a bit of a mess, with a big block of land and house that both need a lot of work to tidy them up. "I'll would cope." she said, confidently, and I wondered if that came out a bit fast?? I am feeling better and more energetic now so am feeling positive. It was my turn to lead a Church service this morning, and I think it had a bit of urgency and edge that otherwise might not have been there. So we will see what 2019 will bring. Meantime life goes on as per normal.
Birth...
While we were on holiday we received word that our seventh grandchild, a girl, had been born in Edinburgh. Rosalea Mia Brown came into the world and we received a photo on our phone. It is moments like this that makes the distance between NZ and Edinburgh, Scotland, seem so far away. It may as well be in space! We have since met a few times on Skype but sometime it will be great to hold her physically and share the delight with her family. Life goes on, a new generation begins to take over.
Hospitals again.
After 2018 being bugged by health issues, I looked forward to 2019 being my healthy year. Last year I was treated for my over-active thyroid, (treatment continues) I had a prolapsed disk in my back that caused issues, and I was hospitalised three times with my prostate problems. "2019, turn the page, be healthy and get fit again", was my New Year motto. But I have been wheezy and struggling with shortness of breath. I thought that it would come right, but it didn't. Then one Monday evening I was sitting watching TV and I went into a coughing spree. I flaked out, collapsing forward in the chair. It was funny because my wife thought I was joking and ignored my performance, then suddenly realised I was actually out to it. She started shouting at me and banging me on my back. I came to wondering what had happened, and just said, "Stop hitting me!" We ignored the event and carried on. Just after midnight on the Wednesday night I woke up coughing and gasping for breath. "It feels like I am drowning!" I said to my wife. On the Thursday I went to my brewery chaplaincy and walked up six stories of steps. I had done this once a week for twenty four years, but this time when I reached the top I was desperately holding on to the handrail to stay upright and gasping for breath! I met my wife briefly for lunch and told her, before she went to her volunteer work at the hospital. She texted me later, "Made an appointment with the Doctor for tomorrow at 2pm." She insisted on coming into the doctor's room with me. He checked me out. "It could be heart?" he commented. "It could be asthma?" I went down the hall gave blood for blood tests and was given an ECG. All was well, so I was given an inhaler, and told that a chest x-ray was booked and an appointment was made to see the Doctor again in a week. I later had a call from the medical centre advising that a blood test had raised an issue and if it got worse to go straight to the hospital emergency department. The next Thursday on my way to visit my brewery people again, I called at the hospital for the booked appointment with the x-ray department for a chest x-ray. It was taken and I asked the technician if my doctor would have the results for my appointment with him the next day. She commented, "I need to see a doctor here, can you wait here for five minutes?" She came back and informed me that I had "to go straight down to the emergency department, the Doctor was forwarding the x-ray to them." She actually led me there, I think to make sure I didn't escape. Long story short, I ended up in the respiratory ward and there, for the rest of the day, a doctor drained in excess of two litres of pink coloured fluid from around my left lung! The nurses, technicians and doctors were simply fabulous people. They were baffled as to why I had the fluid, but said honestly and openly, they were looking for cancer. I have since had a CT scan and last Friday my wife and I went in for a consultation. "We have not found any sign of cancer, but we still do not know why the fluid was there." They went on to say that the tests so far made them 80% sure that cancer was not present. My options were to carry on, and have a further chest x-ray in a month to see if fluid built up again, or they could do key hole surgery to go in and have a look... which if it was clear would make them 97% sure there was no cancer. "If there is cancer," they said, "it will be treatable but not able to be cured." They invited us to go away, have a cup of tea and decide what we wanted to do. We did, our daughter joined us, and I have decided to have the keyhole operation, so that I know what is happening. So in the next couple of weeks I'll be back in hospital. In some ways I am not worried. If it is all bad news, I have had a good life, can look back with satisfaction and die in peace. (though I would not like looking forward to slowly losing the ability to breathe. I could think of better ways of going.) I mentioned to my wife that if it was bad, I would leave her in a bit of a mess, with a big block of land and house that both need a lot of work to tidy them up. "I'll would cope." she said, confidently, and I wondered if that came out a bit fast?? I am feeling better and more energetic now so am feeling positive. It was my turn to lead a Church service this morning, and I think it had a bit of urgency and edge that otherwise might not have been there. So we will see what 2019 will bring. Meantime life goes on as per normal.
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