Over the last week or so I have found myself largely devoid of anything meaningful to post.  I think this is because I am VERY tired and in need of my holiday. 

Life on the whole is pretty darned good, and I have enjoyed being able to race around and do stuff almost as I used to.  But I have worked straight through since January without a break (apart from a couple of Bank Holidays) and it is taking its toll.

My brain is finally showing signs of some recovery of capacity, I am gobbling up novels on my Kindle and looking forward to returning to reading theology properly again.  For all that, it feels as if it has a few holes bored in it and sometimes everything falls out leaving a void where the thoughts should be... very odd!

My joints are steadily getting worse, and that is really frustrating.  Having for years been one of the first to leap up and move tables or chairs, carry stacks of books or whatever, I now have to chose carefully what I do and don't do.  If I miss a dose of meds or do something I shouldn't I pay for it.  Add to that the fact that in the cold and damp my scars tighten and become sort it is all quite challenging at times.  It's a no-brainer... sore joints and achey scars and being alive and generally well vs cancer and death... no contest.

I think that my self confidence is slowly returning... I am certainly less secure in my abilities than I was a couple of years back, and a lot of the shadow sides of my strengths are looming very large, fuelling my insecurities.  I am more easily knocked than I used to be... something I gather is quite a natural consequence of the path I've travelled health-wise this last 18 months (I am still not quite at the first anniversary of ending my active treatment... it's the day I fly out on holiday)

Over recent months I have come to find a vague parallel between what I have felt and these characters:

The scarecrow - chemobrain, post operative loss of concentration... and of course getting a certificate (my MPhil... how DID I manage to do that when my brain was so addled?)

The tin man - every morning waking up with seized joints, the achy scars, the loss of va va voom... and of course the charity half marathon I walked and the charity mountain climb I have planned...

The lion - the loss of confidence, the frustration at not being able to do what once I did... and the fact that actually I am still, compared to so many, in very good health and able to do so much that delights and excites me... and to face the complex challenges that life bring me... 

Unlike Dorothy, home, as in where I came from is not an option.  I can't just click my heels and go back- real life isn't like that.  But here's the spooky bit... when I moved to Glasgow I bought a pair of red shoes for my induction service, and a friend commented at the time that they were my ruby slippers... The thing is, this is home, for the foreseeable future anyway.  I am tired, my brain isn't what it once was, my body has aged a decade or more in a year, I have lost confidence... but I am where I am meant to be, and in that I rejoice.

So, yes, off on my holidays later this week (once I've written the Pentecost service!) and hopefully will return refreshed and renewed ready for the exciting events planned for June.