Heart breaking stuff

 "Dead man walking"

Our wee church was holding a plant fair, so Jean and I went down. We were not working there but felt we ought to buy stuff. Most people from the congregation know that I have terminal lung cancer. It is interesting how people see you. One lady did not charge us for morning tea. It was a fundraiser and we were happy to pay, but it was her way of showing grief and support for our reality I guess. Others greet you with the sad looking smile. Others I think are not sure about what to say, and just look uncomfortable. Some how you remind them of their own mortality. I was sitting by a walk way and one lady walking past just rubbed my shoulder. "Dead man walking" was apparently what the guards would yell out as they led a prisoner out to be executed. Sometimes since news of my lung cancer  became public it feels a bit like some body is yelling, "dead man walking". Everyone is a bit awkward.

Too much pain.

Mostly I have decided to just get on with life while I can, but just sometimes the pain of grief hits you. We have a foster daughter with severe disabilities. She is in care living elsewhere but comes home at least once a month. Her and I have special things we do. I only have to sing a song to her and she grins from ear to ear. I joke with her and she enjoys the joke. We watch a video together and sometimes we hold hands. The other day I was driving into town and saw a mother walking a severely disabled daughter. My mind went to our Pania and I thought of leaving her. The pain was so hard, my eyes filled with tears. By the time I reached the fire station I was back in control. 

I saw Jean my wife in the vege garden the other day, and I thought of her carrying on alone. Again it hurt deeply. We have done everything together for well over 50 years.

Today I spent  most of the day doing handyman stuff.  I'm tidying up a trailer. I invented a carpet stretcher. I did some lawn maintenance. I cut a length of carpet to lay tomorrow. I was using my workshop full of tools. To a tradesman tools are like life long friends. Each tool has history. They are loved and valued and have been with you through all sorts of adventures. It may sound weird, but as I turned off the lights of my workshop and locked the door, I thought of leaving my tools and my eyes filled with tears. It hurts. 

I am doing OK but just sometimes it hurts deep. Just sayin'. 

Well-meaning but difficult...

One of my sons came down with his three children and wife to visit from Christchurch. Vida is pulling Olive in the trolly with Dad Simon watching.  I think it was a bit hard for Simon. The reality of my situation hit home.

Grandson Theo on the swing with mother Stephanie.

Above and below. This is a Cricket/football field at Chingford Park. As a boy my siblings and friends biked and played cricket there. As an adult I umpired school boy cricket games there, coaching a school boy cricket team for seven years.

A pathway in Chingford Park. I paid a nostalgic visit there between chaplaincies. It was a favourite haunt when I was a boy. 

Everyone has a theory...

If you have ever had a sore back, you will know what happens. Everyone has a theory about how you can fix it. People will tell you about an amazing chiropractor in town, some system of massaging your back with tennis balls, some yoga exercise that helped them that is sure to help you and so it goes on. Everybody has a theory. I have discovered it is the same with cancer. I have lung cancer (mesothelioma) and have been told it will be terminal. But well-meaning people will tell you of some healing formula they are sure would save you.  Have carrot juice...(I LOVE raw carrots).. fast... eat heaps.... exercise... have vitamins x y or z ... follow some guru.... go to a faith healer...etc etc. I have a man, bless him, who says he will fast with me for 40 days if I want. He says that will starve the cancer, my body will start to use the cancer tumour for energy once it has run out of fat.  (I'd probably have to fast longer than forty days!)  And yet I have been told I need to eat more because the cancer is using energy. My muscles are wasting and eating more will help that.  I prefer that!

These people mean well, but it is so difficult. Doctors do know what they are talking about. I have seen my x-rays and they are scary. I can feel changes in my chest and breathing. If it was as simple as fasting wouldn't everyone be doing it? I am trying to live as positively as I can, to try to still be useful and make a contribution.  I can't drop everything and try all the theories offered. I will end up dead, having spent the last months of my life too busy trying to stay alive to truly live. 

Minimise it..

One lady who is battling cancer herself said to me, "Dave you've got too much energy to curl up and die, you'll be here forever." Nice... but energy doesn't really cut it. Another person said, "Nah Dave, you'll still be here in five years time, people like you don't die." .... ah.... wrong! I have seen people far nicer than me die early deaths. "Don't believe the doctors Dave, God decides when you die, they don't know!" That one is problematic. I have been with a family and held their young seemingly healthy baby's dead body in my arms. Did God take her? If he did he's cruel. There are too many issues and questions in my mind to simply say, "God rules who dies and who does not." I messed with asbestos, I did not know how dangerous it was and my work place did not know. Does God decide that he'll stop the laws of nature to save me? Another friend talked to me about all his encounters with asbestos, and it hasn't killed him. "Maybe it won't kill you?" Others tell of some relative who was given a cancer death sentence, but he lasted years. "You could do that!" But different cancer, different treatments - irrelevant to my reality.  "Stay positive Dave, you'll beat it!" So it goes on.

It is nice that if thoughts alone could save me, these expressions of hope would do it. But the reality is different.  I wonder whether these sorts of statements are expressions of the people themselves struggling to cope with the reality?  I believe to be mature I have to face the reality of the prognosis and deal with life on that basis.   I am taking Jesus' saying in John 10:10. "I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly." as my compass point. While facing this reality, how can I still live so that I enhance life about me with whatever time I have left? I intend to still live as positively as I can, while I can. I will try to stay as healthy as I can. My wife and I went shopping to buy recommended foods this afternoon. I do hope to keep up some sort of exercise. But I do want to live usefully as long as I am able. Pray for me to do that. Strengthen my resolve to do that. I would love to shy away from the reality of the prognosis and be like an ostrich, with my head in the sand, but I can't. These twinges in my chest, the fatigue and the occasional (at this stage) breathlessness and wheeze will not let me. 

I am doing some writing. One is about where I am at in my Christian faith. The trouble is I think I have completed it and I think of something else. The second is an abbreviated history of my life. I hope I get both completed. Wish me luck.

Support for the journey.

I have received a lot of support since it has become known that I am facing lung cancer and have been given a relatively short time to live. I share just a few.

 Doug

I have a friend who I have known since the late 1960's. He lives about 210 Kilometres from our home. Pretty much as soon as he found out about my condition he climbed in his camper van and drove to our house. He spent four days working around our place. He got a lot of jobs done in the process, but we also talked a lot.  The talking was important as I worked out in my mind what I was going through and what was ahead for me. 

Anthony

Is a man who has since 2008 commented on my blog posts from time to time. We only actually met for the first time relatively recently and it felt like we had known each other for awhile. We enjoy chatting. He made the time to come out one Sunday and we went for a walk together. The walk was good exercise. I need reminded that I can still do stuff and I need the encouragement to get out and do exercise. I received a photo of the chest x-ray the other day and was looking at it, noticing that at least half my left lung is non functioning and there is ongoing issues with other parts of my lungs. I figure that if I keep what parts of my lung are functioning exercised and doing their best to function, life will be better for me. So I appreciated the encouragement to go walking. But once again while we walked we talked. I probably bored Anthony to tears, but it was good for me once again to think out loud about life. 

Fire Fighters.

The people in my three chaplaincies have been good. They have hugged me, shaken my hand, asked repeated how I was going, offered help and been willing to talk and joke and somehow keep life "normal".

Robin

In the photo immediately above, the man looking down at his dog in the front row of the photo is Robin, one of the firefighters. He texted me and asked if he could come out. It was more like telling me that he was going to come to talk some time. We arranged for him to come one afternoon. He arrived and I was doing a little job on my trailer, so he assisted with that. We eventually went inside for a cup of coffee and we just talked. He asked questions and I answered. Again the process of sharing helped me feel like I was not alone. We also laughed and chatted about life, which gave a sense of normality.

Swanny and his paddlers

But then there was his good friend, Swanny, the man with the head band in the left of the photo. Both Swanny and Robin this week celebrated the fact that they had been firefighters for 35 years. Swanny is one of the most caring guys in the job. He rang me and told me that on Wednesday morning this week,  there was to be a group of fire fighters who would go out for a paddle on the Otago Harbour in a Waka (outrigger canoes) He said they would love me to come. I would not have to paddle, but the group wanted me to join them.  They are all from "Green Watch" They would give me a paddle if I wanted to paddle some of the way. He said he would shout me coffee afterward. The day was raining, but there was no wind, the harbour was as flat as a pan cake, safe for a paddle. So 11 firefighters and another Waka club member turned up. We took out two Waka, six paddlers in each and away we went in the rain. I had never paddled before so was learning. We paddled up the harbour for five kilometres, and turned around and came back to base. There was a couple of times when the Waka were side by side and the fire fighters, always a competitive bunch, aggressively picked up the pace. I struggled to keep in time.  There are six paddlers per canoe, three paddle on one side, and three on the other. You paddle about 12 strokes on one side, then the middle man yells "Huck" and we all change sides. Quite tricky for a new boy. (the poor guy in front of me got splashed quite a lot.)   It was a great time, though my paddling has room for improvement.  Then we changed into dry clothing, and all went out for a mid morning coffee. It was simply great fun. I paddled all the way which they declared a "gutsy effort." I am 11 years older than the oldest of the group, so I felt quite pleased that I am not yet an invalid. Of course sitting around drinking and eating gave lots of time for conversation. Today my shoulders and arms are pleasantly sore.

Tomorrow Blue Watch have invited me for a special morning tea.... the support goes on. 

 This is just some of the support I receive. Friends, family and many others have expressed support one way or another. It truly is a wonderful world and I am so grateful.