Yesterday, Sophie was at the vet for some dental work... it turned out she needed five teeth removed, at least two of which were quite tricky, so she has soluble stitches in her tiny kitty mouth, and two kinds of meds to take.  In the course of her treatment it was discovered that she has laryngeal paralysis, a potentially life-threatening condition with no viable treatment options.  This news, 'she might die suddenly' was delivered in a very matter of fact way - so very different from my experience as a cancer patient where the initial diagnosis was prefaced with 'I'm sorry but...'

It got me thinking, and that's a good thing.

I am a facts person, I'm not good at small talk and I've never been taught how to deliver bad news. 

I still recall, with embarrassment and a degree of shame, the time when someone was newly diagnosed with stage 4 cancer (news delivered appalling badly on a Saturday afternoon when she was alone, and only because I happened to be visiting was I called in by a nurse to pick up the pieces).  She asked me to tell her husband, and to stay with him until he had told their children.  I arrived at the door, asked if I could come in, something he was reluctant to allow, and so I stood on the doorstep sayong 'I'm really sorry, I have bad news for you...'  I stayed with him a while, listened, clarified, repeated, then, at his insistence, left before his (adult) children were told. Not my proudest moment.

Sophie is doing just fine - in my household all three of us, the two cats and myself, now live with a degree of uncertainty.  I defy the statistics my consultant doesn't believe in, Sasha fares better off the meds, Sophie is her cheery self.  After Dusty and Holly, I've learned that kitties who don't get run over risk the same horrid conditions as people.  And after all these years of doctors and vets, I continue to learn from them how to - and how not to - deliver bad news.

The last time I had to break bad news, and it wasn't unexpected or terrible, was by phone at 8 a.m. I did my best, but still feel I have lots to learn.  I have editted this a few times because it was too 'bald'.

Every day really is a school day, and I, like the young vet yesterday, have a lot to learn.

Andy had gone to work as usual that morning.  It was a nice day, the sun shone and life felt good.  Business was going well, sales were steady and the income more than enough for what he needed.  But he couldn't help thinking about what he'd heard over the weekend.  As usual, he'd been to worship, and as usual one of the local preachers had preached a sermon.  It had been inspiring, interesting, relevant - all the things he longed for a sermon to be.  Justice for those who are poor. Equal value for all humans, irrespective of age, gender or race. Healing for those who are sick... it all sounded wonderful, and how he hoped it was true.

Sensing someone was looking at him, he lifted his eyes and saw a man standing near to him.  In response to his quizzical expression the man said, 'drop everything and come with me.'

The rest is, of course, history. Venerated by some, chosen as an icon by Scots, Greeks, Russians and, indeed, many more, St Andrew as we know him left his nets, his boat, his business, his family, his hopes, his security and set off in the footsteps of Joshua ben David, also known as Jesus of Nazareth.

What would you do?

What would I do?

And what difference might that decision make?