The best laid plans of mice, men and ministers go awry, that is just the way of things.  My grand plan for how to use my ordinary time went out of the metaphorical window when the cold/infection struck last week.  Whilst I am now much better, I still have a cough and limbs made of lead, and my good intentions need to be rediscovered.  Ah well. As my old boss used to say there's a difference between 'plans' and 'planning'... I think I kind of get what he meant.

Technically I am in a 'week 3' - although I reached the top of Mt Chemo on 31st December I don't formally finish being in the last cycle until Thursday/Friday.  I would have to say I am glad this is the only week 3 where I have felt below par because they are actually a precious time during the climb.  So far as I can ascertain, almost all chemo regimes have week 3 "off".  It is a 'rest week' during which no drugs are given and the patient's body is not being bombarded by weird and wonderful effects: no dips in energy, taste buds recover, aches go away, blood can start to recover... time to enjoy a bit of 'normality.'  Certainly I found my other 'week 3' experiences to be good, albeit interrupted by consultant appointments and with the knowledge that the next 'bend' was imminent; time to do things I wanted to do and have a few treats.  Early in the process I found a research paper, I think from France, of a clinical trial that had attempted to remove 'week 3'.  It had proved a disaster and had been abruptly halted as all, or almost all, patients became sick... the rest is needed not a luxury.  So it's a bit like a Sabbath then...

I had already decided I would post about this today before I listened to today's PAYG which centred on Mark 2:23 - 28 and notably "the sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath" (Mk2: 27 NRSV).  The reflection was to a large extent about legalism and the risk of missing the point.  I found this intriguing at a time when I am sure that strict rule-following has kept me both safe and well.  Where is the line to be drawn?  I am looking forward in the next few weeks to beginning to relax some of the restrictions as they become redundant (though some new ones will replace them!) but that's not the same as bending or breaking the rules.  It's really easy to see the legalism in the extremes cited in the gospels but not so easy to work out the fuzzy line in our own time.

Week 3s and Sabbaths are given for the benefit of the humans, they are there for rest, restoration, relaxation not for angst, anxiety and ascetic-abstention.  This week will include one or two treats, especially as a former nurse has assured me that chocolate is good for coughs, but it will also adhere to the sensible rules that keep me healthy.  I have a suspicion the same principle applies to Sabbaths too.

Just listened to Sunday's service from the Gathering Place, led by one of SBC's finest recent graduates on the 23rd Psalm.  Anyone who uses Brueggeman's categories for the psalms is good in my book, not least as I did a series based on it back in Dibley back 2006 (which I posted about here, here and here, always interesting to see what was going on and what I thought about a few years back) - I was mildly amused listening to the recording when the pianist played the 'Vicar of Dibley' tune as it took me back.

Anyway, the thing that struck me from the sermon was the image of the banquet and the anointing which occurs amidst the chaos of being surrounded by enemies.  Anointing always seems such a calm and holy thing, a special occasion or a time when someone is ill, a time when the chosen participants are quiet an reverent.  But no, here it is in a very chaotic setting.

The last time I was struck like this was in a New Testament class on Matthew 18 and the 'where two or three are gathered there I AM' which is in the midst of a passage about conflict and church discipline - another chaotic setting.

I think we all glibly assert God's presence in chaotic circumstances but perhaps don't see it (or I certainly haven't) in terms of glory (shekina presence where two or three are gathered) or anointing, or at least the potential for those.  This is not the same as seeing chaotic as a gift from God just for us to be blessed in - that's bad theology!  It's just a reminder that God is still completely God in the chaotic not somehow restricted or functionally different. 

I have preached times without number that God does not promise to lift us out of our struggles but instead is there within them and may even surprise us.  Every now and then I discover more examples of Biblical texts which support this... such as image of anointing in Psalm 23. 

So thank you M for the new insight.

I have, rather belatedly, become aware of the review of the current Disability Living Allowance.  That review and reform may be necessary I wouldn't dispute, but now that I am technically disabled (cancer is a disability in UK benefits parlance) I can see that there are many for whom this could be disastrous.  Certainly my living costs have risen during the last few months as I've had to buy specialist products, so for those who are forced to give up work, who are on low incomes, or who live nowhere near the hospitals where they are treated something like DLA can be highly significant, not least as it isn't means-tested.  I read somewhere that the direct cost to the average patient undergoing cancer treatment is around £2k (and I suspect I've already spent around £200) ... not everyone has that to spare.

Anyway, I am sure we all know either someone who has DLA or who is disabled and not entitled to it, so if you want to make your voice heard then check here to read what the government is saying and how to let them know your view.

I have wrestled with if and when to post this for a long time, not least because hardly anyone knows I have this fear and it is, ultimately, totally illogical.  Maybe it is cheating that I choose to name it publicly once the level of fear is much, much less, I don't know, but the time feels right for me.

So - my biggest fear in this whole journey lies not in the cancer but in the thought of aneasthetic, and which at its worst manifests as 'what if I die under anesthetic?'  This is illogical at any level I chose to approach it from, but it doesn't make it any less real. 

Scientifically it's illogical - I think the rate for anaesthetic deaths is something like 1 in 200,000 and that includes people who are a very poor anaesthetic risk; it is illogical that this concerns me more than 1 in 5 for the cancer itself.

Theologically it's illogical - I can tick the boxes for 'it'll be alright if I die' under any brand of Christian understanding.  I also have a theology that says God will be with me throughout the process, so why be quite so afraid?

Practically it's illogical - my affairs are in order, my will is up to date, I have no relationships that need to be repaired.

I have no desire not to be alive, indeed contra St Paul, I am nowhere near desiring departing this life, but the thought of dying does not, in itself, frighten me.  Disappoint definitely, but that's not the same thing.  So I am forced to accept that the fear is totally illogical.

Over recent weeks I've spent a fair bit of energy thinking and researching this and beginning to test out naming my fear to one or two people, and it has to be said that the act of naming it has helped to reduce its power.  It's not that I need someone to tell me that my fears are (almost) unfounded, I know that, I have just needed to work out how to overcome them in a way that moves beyond trite reassurances.

I think the biggest help was talking to the nurse who was doing the pre-operative questionnaire and vocalising just what it from past anaesthetic experiences that causes anxiety (dental anesthetics in the late 1960s and early 70s were pretty grim) and the incredibly matter of fact observation by the specialist nurse that "they always come back."

Now, I can't say the prospect of anaethesia fills me with glee, or even that I now have no residual anxiety, but in naming the fear at the right time in the right places has returned some sense of 'power,' that actually it will be alright.

All of which makes me wonder how many people I know who are terrified of things that they are too embarrassed or ashamed to name, and just how debilitating those fears might be.

Well, after about 48 hours my temperature is now back in the 'safe' zone and I am starting to feel mildly more human.  A heavy cold, long term effects of St Eroid's sleep deprivation and the delights of chemically induced menopausal symptoms (I could write a book on hot flushes and night sweats!) combine to leave me feeling pretty ropey, but I'm definitely on the mend.

On Friday at a scheduled hospital visit (before the extra unplanned one!) I was told there is some online video stuff with the plastic surgeon who will be redesigning me in a few weeks.  Eventually I found it here. I am very fortunate that my breast surgeon is one of the top ones in Scotland (he trains lots of others) and my plastic surgeon one of the best in Britain.

I also happened across this online diary of a Radio Cumbria reporter who is currently on a not dissimilar track.  Although everyone's experience is unique and I seem to have got off more easily with side effects, I found a lot of resonance - note especially the St Eroid effect that no literature or leaflet I've found admits!  I was also struck that, like me, she wanted some sort of 'before' photos - albeit I was more bothered about photos with hair whilst she wanted photos with breasts!  Good minister person that I am, my photos were all fully clothed.

So, I splash on through this puddle and on towards a forest that looks a little less dark than it did a while ago.