For most of the first 20 years of my life I lived next to the Clyde, a beautiful river with stunning scenery around it. Where I was, the river was very wide and was for most of the time calm. Occasionally the wind would get up and the river would get a bit choppy and covered in what we would call white horses. It was lovely and I still like to go back there.
For two of those 20 years, I lived in Peterhead, a fishing town in the north-east of Scotland. It was totally different from the Clyde – it was on the North Sea. A lot of the time it was lovely. Peterhead is also known as the Blue Toon and on a good day the sea and the sky were as blue as you get. Sometimes, though, there were dramatic storms! Waves would crash against the breakwater and shoot a hundred feet in the air. On these days, even a mile inland, you could taste the salt on your lips as the wild wind blew the spray.
Life is like that. One day everything is smooth and moving calmly onwards, another day is a storm of ups, downs, backwards and forwards. Big seas are great to look at from a safe distance. They make spectacular photos or videos, but when you are on a big sea it’s not fun.
The last few weeks for Libby and me have been just like that. Good days, bad days and horrible days. Calm rivers and stormy seas.
On Tuesday I had a dreadful day. I was uncomfortable, unhappy and not exactly pain-free. I was worried about the next day, the tomorrow when I would see another consultant. What would he do? Would the results of my biopsy be there? What would he say? Would it be good news, bad news, dreadful news? Then the pain got so bad that I couldn’t think enough to worry. The sea was throwing me everywhere and taking me nowhere.
That in itself was a problem. Why was I feeling like that? All the positive thinking that led me to write the previous posts – where had they gone? I’m a Christian – where is my faith? I was afraid, but surely I should be strong and courageous? I was in a dark valley, but surely my God is right there beside me? I was weak, but surely I should be strong? What sort of Christian would get into a state like that? I shouldn’t feel like this – but I cannot feel any other way!
Eventually I slept.
Wednesday came and we headed for the appointment with the consultant. As we got near the hospital I could sense that my heart rate was up a bit. It was 110, more than double normal, and it wasn’t just because Libby was driving!
We had a bit of a wait and then we were called in. The consultant looked at his screen and called up the biopsy results and the CT scan results. He was reading everything out and telling us what was likely as he did so. Things aren’t good. I have cancer. I need more investigations and the first will be on Monday. The others he is setting up as a matter of urgency – he even tried to arrange them on the phone as we sat with him. It is probable that I will need surgery, radiotherapy and chemotherapy. (Buy two, get one free)
It was obviously bad news, but it was no worse than I expected. The strange thing is that I actually felt better than I did the day before. This was partly because it had been spoken out and partly because the consultant was getting things done. While we were there, he dictated a letter to my GP, to the consultant who saw me earlier and to the members of the Multipledisciplinary Team who will discuss my case and decide on the action to be taken.
Way back in those first 20 years of my life, cancer wasn’t spoken about. It was hush-hush. If it did arise in conversation, it was The Big C. You got it, and that was you. Done. Finished. Gone. Things have changed a lot, and it is no longer the death sentence.
But it’s still not easy. This morning I wakened feeling better than Tuesday, but not as good as I was last night. The doubts were there. It wasn’t a Big Sea, but it was still a bit choppy.
One day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” So they got into a boat and set out. As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.
The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we’re going to drown!”
He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm.
“Where is your faith?” he asked his disciples.
Even the disciples had their doubts when they were in the storm and Jesus just lay there sleeping. That’s how I feel sometimes. I manage to get to sleep, but when I waken the doubts or fears or terrors are there and my faith isn’t. Does that mean I’m a faulty Christian? I don’t think so – Jesus rebuked the storm, but he didn’t rebuke his disciples.
All it means when I waken up is that it’s another day.
It might be a day of a big sea.
It might be a day of a calm, flowing river.
Whatever it is, it’s another day.