Check this post from David Kerrigan at Hopeful Imagination. 

I promise not to talk about a dead Jesus this Christmas!! 

(PS David have you been reading my sermon notes on John the Baptist which pick up some similar thoughts?  H Sp active alert!!)

This was set up to advance posted so that I could have a leisurely start to Friday.  Or so I could do the jobs that I need to do before I head off to the hospital.  Or both perhaps.  I had forgotten that St Eroid, the patron saint of insomnia, was watching over me last night, meaning that by 5 a.m. I gave up trying to get back to sleep and got up instead.  Some people evidently do lots of St Eroid induced housework or eating rubbish ... I try to avoid too much of either!  In any case my neighbours wouldn't appreciate the sound of nocturnal vacuuming.  So, what follows is mostly what I wrote last night, with a few tweaks in the stillness of the early non-so-bright (though a bird with insomnia was singing at 5...)

Today is the fifth and penultimate dose of chemotherapy... the second visit of the Angel Docetaxel... must be an angel it ends in El!  Maybe the Hebrew scholars can assign an interpretation to it?!  Carcino-zapper-of-the-lord maybe..?

I am delighted that I've got this far without having to delay a dose due to low blood count or infection.  It's come close on the blood count a couple of times but always recovered in time.  Psychologically hitting 31st December for the final dose is still a big target... and still not guaranteed.  I have to keep being good and careful for another few weeks yet.  To finish this phase in 2010 would be good though.

Way back in September Mount Chemo, as I've named it, seemed utterly enormous - uncharted territory with lots of scary possibilities.  Now I'm most of the way up I am secretly quite pleased with how I've coped... OK it's not a secret now I've said it.  In some ways it feels as if it's gone quickly but it's had its dragging moments too. Anyone who did 'O' level (or 'O' grade I suspect) maths in the 1970s will vaguely recall the concept of the sigmoid curve... starts slowly at the bottom, then rises steeply, then flattens out again.  A bit like a quarter of a sine curve.  Anyway, that kind of reflects how it's felt speed-wise.

The worst bit, for me, so far, was the venous pain with the second two doses of the first drug cocktail... coupled with the unknown of if it would go or if the veins would recover; I am fortunate both arms are now fine and the very last of the tenderness is going from my left wrist.  Some people are left with permanently stiff arms; I am glad my oncologist told me to use my arms anyway even if they hurt as it is the temptation to mollycoddle them that causes permanent damage.

I have been very fortunate to have lots of excellent support through this phase... people on standby to give me a lift if I needed it (so far I've been able to walk to and from all my appointments), people who are willing to hear me bore for Britain on my most recent experiences (like you, gentle readers), people who have sent emails or cards, and people who, above all, have treated me the same as before and occasionally remind me that I'm still the same person.  I kind of am and kind of am not the same, but it's nice to be reminded of the 'am'.

Being almost up the climb is not the end... there's still a way to go yet, still the possibility of unexpected stiles or boggy ground, still the potential for surprise views before I reach the top.  This is one uphill climb I'll be very pleased to reach the end of... it will be nice to be able to celebrate by eating the things that have been prohibited or proved problematic; it will be nice in 2011 to begin to have hair again (and in time hair long enough to brush); it will be nice not having to wonder what new side effects might be lurking.  But it hasn't been anywhere near as bad as I feared it might be and so as I round the penultimate bend, the fifth of six, and as I reflect on the benefit that has been gained, it is with a sense that the climb will soon be completed and has been worth the effort involved.

Of course after a little rest there are new adventures on this journey but I'm not going to get ahead of myself.  And for all mymany and lovely checker-uppers I'll post something later to confirm I'm still OK :-)  (Who needs Facebook or Twitter when you've got a blog?!)

Today it is supposed to thaw in Glasgow, the weather forecast suggests a peak daytime temperature of 6C after last nights low of -12C.  Only in the UK can weather conditions differ so much over short distances and times.  No evidence of thaw as I walked into church this morning but hopefully it is warming up a little out there.

The last week or two have seen lots of fun and games at church, firstly it was our gas-fired heating system, then a power cut, then an electrical fault and then another power cut.  But we've 'carried on regardless' hiring, borrowing and then buying portable heaters, wrapping up in blankets, running extension cables from the surviving electrical phases (hurrah for three phase!) and refusing to be defeated.

Yesterday there was a burst pipe on the ground floor of my flats which meant some people had no water.  When the repair was done they turned off the water to my flat and the one above in error which meant I had no water for a few hours until they rectified things (and worked out what the problem was).  Fortunately I have lots of bottled water in the fridge for drug-days so I was OK in the meantime.

I think one of the key characteristics of my church is this sort of defiance of problems.  So it's cold, so there're heating problems but actually it's important that we keep together, keep meeting and keep the light shining.  This isn't foolish risk taking but thoughtful calmness; we don't waste time praying our problems solved when there's a needy world for God to care for, we do trust God is with us as we use our God-given abilities to resolve things.

This lunchtime we will hold our second Advent Reflection.  The fire is on to warm up the meeting room, the liturgy is printed, the props are ready, the CD is being played through even now.  We stay calm and we carry on our Advent journey because in it all Immanuel, God is with us.

Today I'm off to the hospital in time for bloods at 9a.m. in turn in time for my oncologist appointment at 11a.m. Hence, given snow and other inevitabilities, such as late running clinics, unlikely to be around much today.  All  seems to be well on that front and hopefully he will be happy with progress again.  In which case dose 5 on Friday... already!

When all this began it was the gorgeous sunny weather of an 'Indian summer' and now it is the treacherous ice of an early winter.  In some ways the climb up Mount Chemo so far has been less unpleasant than I feared; it has its moments when it all feels like a drag but at least the summit is now almost in sight... three weeks to go if I manage to stay well and avoid injuries between this and then.  I think I've been lucky with side effects compared to many people (though from what I gather I've been better at following the rules than a lot of people too!) and for that I am grateful.  I'm glad too that I've been able to carry on working so far - and now with just a few weeks to go hopeful of managing that right through to the end of December.

So, time to wrap up, put on my hiking boots, grab my walking poles (advice from someone yesterday) and step gingerly on the road to health via the road to the hospital.  More news when there is some.

Today I have been reading the passages on John the Baptiser which will inform Sunday's sermon.  What struck me as never before was the frequent use of the word 'joy' in these bits of Luke and John.

Here is Luke 1:14, part of the message given to Zechariah, and old priest who was childless...

You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. (NRSV)

I think that's just a beautiful little verse, one I've read and never seen before.  It is so human, acknowledging perhaps Zechariah's secret yearnings for completion and acceptance in a society where progeny signified piety/righteousness.  Before anything else, this child will delight his parents.  I kind of like that.

We are also using part of John 3 where Baptiser-John speaks of his own joy.  I wonder what he learned from his parents that helped him delight in another's greatness, content to be who he was?  Sure he had his moments of darkness and doubt (eg Luke 7 which we aren't using) but reading today I see not a scary doom-prophet but a bringer of joy... for me a new take on Jordanside Baptiser.