100th Post!!

This is the 100th post!!

 

Although I have not been posting on my blog every day, like I had originally intended to, I do spend a minimum of at least an hour a day gathering my thoughts and writing ideas down, so this has become a very good spiritual experience for me.

I am in fact giving more time to it than I had planned, but I don't mind at all as I am thoroughly enjoying it. I hope you are - I know some of you are!

My last offering produced a lot of positive feedback - thank you so much, it is very encouraging. Although not many messages have been left on the blog itself, people have emailed me, texted me or phoned me.

Monday saw me at Hemswell once again, this time without my wheelchair (although it was in the car in case of need!). Now that is great progress from the week before. I was able to walk round 4 of the Antique buildings with just my crutches, and used some of the antique chairs, at least those that looked more stable, when I needed a sit down - I used Kathryn as a tester - if it held her, it would hold me!

Yesterday was my first day "working" again - I am still Caroline's (my curate at Ollerton and Boughton) supervisor and we have some of her evaluations still to finish, along with her final report - which have all been further delayed by my recent illness and Caroline becoming a Mummy. Anna was able to add some wonderful insights into her Mother's curacy.

Before that however, I went to Kathryn's mothers funeral. Kathryn led the service (she is Team Rector of Hucknall) and did an excellent job - indeed I would have expected nothing else!

It was first time for me in a "dog collar" since I retired. And it was great to be wearing one again, even if over the past year or so in Ollerton and Boughton I hadn't worn one as often as I used to, as I increasingly took the view that it wasn't what I wore or looked like that made me a priest, rather what I did, said, and what sort of person I was! OK so I accept wearing a dog collar is a good "badge of office" for people who don't know who I am, or what I do, but I never want to hide behind one!

Anyway, prior to the funeral yesterday, it caused me a major problem, at least momentarily.

Now Kathryn had said she didn't want people to wear "black" at the funeral, so I carefully matched everything so I was in an appropriate green. But my clerical shirts that weren't black had been put into the loft - I found out at the last minute. Anyway after much searching I found a grey striped one which went well with my green attire. But then real disaster - after the move and my illness, where had my actual collars (the white inserts) gone? We searched and searched - I got mad with Sue, and Sue got mad with me? I couldn't go in a clerical shirt without a collar could I? Anyway after almost 5 months, I was eager to "look and feel a proper priest". Well after about 15 minutes, God was kind to me, I found my supply of collar inserts.

So I yet again have to confess this Lent - and this time for the sin of vanity.

God doesn't care what I look like, nor does he care what you look like.

What matters is what we are like, on the inside, in our actions, in who we are. A lesson we all continue to learn.

Blog tomorrow - a year older, and hopefully a little wiser!

Is this the Way?

Yesterday in the evening, I went to see the Ravenshead Gilbert and Sulivan Society perform HMS Pinifore and Trial by Jury, and what a wonderful evening it was. Now I have been to see their production every year for many years, (other than last year when I was poorly) and last evening's offering was the best yet. I even felt as good as i have done for ages. Hope it lasts, as my "birthday week" begins today with all the family coming round for our family's traditional birthday Sunday Buffet Lunch. (my Birthday is 28th February!). So yesterday my post on my blog never got finished, and I will finish it today.

But before I start my posting proper for today, I ask a favour from you please. One of my sisters has told me she can't leave a message on my blog – I tried to leave a message and I was successful, but I am well aware that I haven't received any messages at all in recent times. If you could just leave something even if it's just saying "hello" or even "Happy Birthday" or better still a comment about the blog, that will be great and I will know it is working properly. Thanks.

As well as reading the bible each morning, and saying my prayers, and remembering special people in my prayers, I also try and listen to music, or look at a picture, or read some inspirational reading other than the Bible, and those of you who have been following me on Facebook through my time in hospital will know that the Abba song "Move On"has meant quite a lot to me, and helped me on my journey.

One of my all-time favourites in recent times, that always brings a smile to my face, is the Peter Kay Comic Relief offering of 2005 where he is walking at speed (maybe dancing) down corridors and in some strange places with a variety of people, to the song "Amarillo". I hope you remember it! For me, it is and always will be, great! I simply love it, and the expression on people's faces always brings a smile to my face.

I have bought the DVD on many occasions, but now after two moves I can't find a copy anywhere. So yesterday morning, and needing a bit of a cheer up, I looked it up on YouTube. There it was so I selected it ready for it to be played. As I read through all the credits at the beginning, I read something which is saddened me. It was a "health warning" with these words "warning – contains Jimmy Savile".

I have never particularly liked Jimmy Savile, and with all these horrendous accounts of what he is alleged to have done to hundreds of children, I am afraid I now feel sick just when I hear or read his name. And I had forgotten he was on this favourite Comic Relief DVD of mine.

Not only was I and still am totally appalled by what he has almost certainly done, as a Christian I always try to see both sides of any dispute or accusation made. After all we are innocent until proven guilty. But with Jimmy Savile I find it very difficult to see beyond the evil he has done, primarily to the young people he has abused, but also to the wider community who took him to their hearts over many years, and whose trust he also abused and betrayed. In addition to this, he also wormed his way into many of our national institutions, and even into being awarded a knighthood.

But the harrowing tales, one after another, and also pulling in other "celebrities", not only left me feeling sick as I've already mentioned, but very very angry. What is the society we live in coming to? And if you think I am mearly using one person to make a sweeping statement to back my theory, I read in the newspapers yesterday that Internet child porn is up 48% over the past four years (thank goodness the detection rate has more than caught up!)

During my time of five years working as an assistant prison chaplain, in the late 1990s, I was very saddened and shocked to see that the "male" role model in young men's lives – indeed all peoples lives - is often a very negative roll or in many cases, a roll that doesn't exist.

In addition, where there is a role model, it is so often the case that it is one of discipline and simple verbal communication – not one of a physical hug or other physical expressions of love. I don't pretend that I have always been the perfect Father, but I like to think I have been the best that I could have been.

I have never been afraid to show affections of love to my children, with a hug, or a kiss, or maybe a hand on the shoulder. As we all get older, they are expressions of affection which become more and more precious as time and situations pass us by.

As a society, it so often seems that the "male" has to be careful. Whether as a father, a step father, an uncle, a carer, a teacher, a scout leader, or a priest, we so often can't reach out in love. As Vicar of Ollerton, I was so conscious of young people who would run up to me, and want to hug me. Children who needed love, young people who sought affirmation. I always had to look round to see if other adults were witnessing what was going on so that no one would misinterpret.

How different it seemed to be in Jesus's day.

When children were excluded from close proximity to him, what did Jesus say and do.

He instructed the children to be brought to him, with accompanying words - "Jesus took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them." (Mark 10:16)

As individuals and as a society we have so much to learn from a book which today few people seem to want to read, and yet a book which will help us find all the answers.

Chat again on Tuesday!

Main line and Sidings

Yesterday ended much better than it began. I had quite a bad headache until early afternoon, and then Charlotte took me to ASDA and I perked up.

Strange you ask - yes I agree - ASDA isn't my favourite store at all, and it is half term, and was packed, but the trip did cheer me up and made me feel better.

What motivated me to visit ASDA was the fact that last August I took out a life policy with them, for the over 50s with no health questions asked. ASDA actually use Liverpool Victoria Friendly Assurance, and they, unlike the others, pay up if death occurs after a year (others are 2 years) so I thought it would help out when it is needed. For doing it, they gave me a £30 ASDA gift voucher, and yesterday I was keen to use it. Sadly I found nothing to take my fancy, so it went on some food Sue had asked me to get. I shall probably spend the £30 at Hemswell next Monday - pottery or silver - or wherever we go as we may have to change our plans as there is now a chance Kathryn will be with us, which is great news, when before we thought that it would just be Mark and I.

Just thinking about my time in hospital for a moment, I got very impatient when I was back on the ward, and today I am feeling impatient and frustrated at not being able to do more.

Soon after the operation I wanted to walk, I wanted the pain to go away, I wanted to drive, I wanted to do all sorts of things that i had done before. And I wanted to do them "NOW"!! But that was not to be the case.

Indeed after four months I still can't walk very well, my mobility is limited, and at times I am in some pain.

After a life of being in control, and doing things when I wanted to do them, usually immediately, I have found this very difficult at times, especially over the past four months when I have had to learn to pace myself.

This has not been, and is still not an easy lesson for me. What I have learnt, is to appreciate "the present moment" and not always looking forward to the next job or experience!And I have had some wonderful moments which on the past would have been totally missed.

I have often preached in the past on the subject of "the sacrament of the present moment", now I must once again learn to practice what I preach!

I do drive a little, but not a lot, yet. I enjoy going to pick Sue up from work in the car, or taking her in the morning, but it really takes it out on me. It isn't a question of just popping in the car and driving it somewhere - it's about the buildup, getting myself motivated and ready, with my limited mobility, and then when I have completed the task experiencing extreme tiredness. But progress is being made.

In hospital I also got the feeling that once the operation had been completed, and things were improving quite well, I was parked up a siding. The excitement had gone, the focus switched to others, (rightly so may I add) and I was beginning to feel overlooked. Now I know that is not the case, it is just that is how it felt.

At one stage I was removed from the spinal unit to another ward in the trauma department which was made up of mainly young men who had been involved in road traffic accidents or football accidents.

They weren't as chatty and didn't appreciate my jokes and humour. They came and went in a matter of 48 hours having had the operation and being discharged. It was great meeting some different types of people, but it really did frustrate me as there was no possibility of me being discharged at that time.

After a while I was transferred back to the ward I had been on in the Spinal Unit and where I was affectionately known, still, as Father Ted.

Whilst in hospital I loved having visitors, and thank you all who came, it was so much appreciated. Sue and Charlotte came between them every night and I was so grateful especially because it is a round trip of almost 50 miles.

Visitors came from almost all over the country to see me, from all of my experiences over my whole life, and that pleased me very much as well.

Got a restful day today - a priest friend from Manchester was coming to see me, but sadly he is not well, so we have rearranged for when the weather is better.

Have a great weekend, and we'll chat again tomorrow!

Technical Troubles!!

Even though there have been no postings since Monday, I have spent the usual "blogging" time and more each of the days trying to sort out the "glitch" on my actual blog.

I don't know what had happened, but after many hours, much frustration, especially after I appeared to have deleted it all, my blog is up and running again, in a form that you can read, and in my favourite colour - red. I will keep on working on it to iron out the "blips".

Although I may have most gadgets out, and enjoy using them, I am not very good when things don't go according to plan or they don't work as they should. You see I am in no way technical. It's a bit like my owning and driving my car – I love driving it, and I like talking about cars, but as soon as it doesn't go or something happens to it that shouldn't, then I am totally at a loss.

At least my social skills don't let me down, even though at times I appear to be digging myself into a hole, and people say to me to stop digging. I suppose working for National Westminster bank for 20 years, and then as a priest for a further 23 years has helped. But as I mentioned on Sunday, my mother has been the greatest influence and help in how I am socially. My mother followed very closely by my father.

So what have I been doing over the past three days.

On Monday I went to the antique centre at Hemswell looking for a birthday present for me, well that was my excuse. I ended up identifying one or two for Sue whose 60th birthday is next month (26th) to be precise, but bought nothing for myself.

So as I came back empty-handed, I'm going again next Monday. As many of you will know I love going to antique centres.

Tuesday saw me attempting to sort the blog out, but I was very tired after Monday and much of the day was spent asleep.

Yesterday I was determined that I was going to do more. So I spent quite a bit of time trying to sort my blog – indeed I feel I made some progress with it.

Then the district nurse decided she was going to come see me in the morning and was with me for one and a half hours filling in a lengthy forms.

At teatime I ventured out in the car on my own – this was a first – to pick Sue up from work. I enjoyed it very much, but realised it took a lot out of me.

Today I woke up with a headache, and other than doing this post, I have so far done little. The headache is still with me, although not quite as bad as it was an hour or so ago. Hoping to go out with Charlotte this afternoon to ASDA and the garage. Exciting, eh!

So there we are that's you brought up to date with all that is happening to me.

I think I will call today as far as blogging is concerned. Tomorrow I will go back to my post operation period and try and unpack a few more pearls of wisdom from those experiences.

Thanks for being with me and following me in this way - it is so much appreciated.

Blessings to you all, in whatever way you perceive and receive those blesssings to be.

Chat tomorrow!

"This too will pass!"

I had a day of rest from blogging yesterday - I felt extremely tired and aching in the morning, and then when I did begin to feel better in the afternoon, I went with Sue, Charlotte and Harrison to see son Duncan and Fay and Freya in Nottingham - which had been planned. I drove there, which made me feel so much better. Driving was very good yesterday.

We had a great time there - it is always good to go and see them, along with Diane, Fay's Mother who lives with them, and their 4 dogs!

In the evening I drove to Mark's, and for the first time in over 4 months, I stayed the night, just like I used to every Sunday.

Didn't make Church though yesterday, which saddens me, but now my driving experience is getting better, it won't be too long before I can go where I like, and on my own.

But for today's posting I want to go back to the recovery room by the theatres in QMC Nottingham. I think I understood there were 19 theatres, and one recovery room. My main operation was in number 16.

The last time I blogged about about my time in hospital, I was just getting prepared for it, the procedure and the operation itself. Well, on both occasions in the theatre, I don't remember anything that happened after the preparation room. Whatever they gave me, seemed to stop me mid sentance. What I next remember is the "waking up".

So let's think about the waking up after the main operation. Now I can tell you, it hurt. The first thing I did was to open my eyes to make sure I could see, as I think I have already mentioned. Yes I could see!

I started to prod myself a little, Yes, I could feel! But oh the pain! Pain in the back, where they had removed tumour and part of the spine. It was like lying on large metal balls, I remember. To a much lesser extent, that is what it still feels like!

But of course I was well cared for, and at this stage I was one to one with a nurse, still in the Recovery room. True to form, it wasn't long before I started asking questions - but I wanted to know all bout the nurse.

She was very pretty, had been nursing for 18 years, 10 of them in and around London, before specialising into what she was doing now. She originally came from Indonesia, where she trained for and started her nursing.

After two hours in the recovery room, I was transferred back to the ward. Well not quite the ward – it was a special part of the unit where people who just had their operation were put for further observation. It wasn't a high dependency unit, but like such a unit whereby one nurse would perhaps have two patients to look after. I was there for two days before being transferred back to where I had come from, and where they fondly called me Father Ted!

Throughout this post operation procedure, morphine was the order of the day. At this point I was wired up to my own supply, which I could access whenever I wanted it at the push of a button. Well looking back I don't think that was quite the case, as I was only allowed to push the button so many times within a limited period. I have to say I used morphine sparingly, as I remember when I had my kidney taken out 3 years before, hallucinating on the drug, and I wasn't going to this time!

This period of my spell in hospital was a strange time. I kept thinking about things I had done during my life, not really being able to believe this situation I now found myself in.

In a very strange sort of way, and for the first time in my life, through the pain I remember beginning to think of what it must have been like to have been crucified on a cross.

Jesus didn't have access to these wonderful doctors and nurses, nor did he have a button to push to access morphine to relieve the pain, whenever he wanted. He was totally alone.

It is only when you find yourself in this sort of situation, that you really begin to make some sort of sense of it.

I have always been of the opinion that in order to experience true Resurrection, we have to go through a real crucifixion. I remember thinking at the time this was a real crucifixion and I hoped something good would follow.

Members of my family and some friends who read this will remember a wonderful great aunt of mine, Auntie Gerty, who was a Methodist Lay Preacher.

When I and my sisters, particularly Catherine as she is more my age, were children, she would often offer words of wisdom, which we would not take too seriously!

And one of these favourite little sayings, which she would always say when there was a crisis of some sort, and wagging her index finger whilst pointing it at you, was "this too will pass". She would speak so dramatically, and often with a tear in her eye!

As children and teenagers, I regret to report that we would often snigger behind her back. As we have grown older, we have come to learn the pearls of wisdom in those words – indeed I have found these words to be part of the true crucifixion/resurrection experience - and they have greatly spoken to me in recent times.

So in the recovery room, and in the special part of the ward, all I could think of were the words "this too will pass".

And it has, as I now continue to make good progress.

We were never promised a life full of just "highs", however much we and so many people in today's world seek it.

Rather we were promised a life full of richness, and in order to experience this richness we have to take all that is thrown at us as we journey through life - and that is the bad times along with the good. And as we catch it all, we have to make some sense of it, some sense where Jesus himself is the key.

Blessings to you all.

Chat again tomorrow.

Grimsby on a Friday!

Today's posting is going to be a little shorter than the previous three days. Today I am a little tired, and so far I have spent at least 3hours writing my blog, so please forgive me if I am a little briefer today.

Also please forgive the lateness of the publishing of my posting yesterday – I had written it by lunchtime, but only had with me my iPad and iPhone and neither would allow me to publish what I had written, so I had to wait until I got back home in the evening.

It was a very good day yesterday. My son Daniel drove, and my granddaughters Abbie and Bethany also came with us. Our first port call was to my younger sister Elizabeth who cooked me bacon and egg (which I fancied) for lunch. Nobody else fancied bacon and egg, except for Elizabeth, so they all went to McDonald's.

As is usually the case when we go to Grimsby, one of the regular calls is to see Elizabeth's husband Paul in the mobile phone shop he owns and runs. Daniel had dropped his iPhone, smashed the glass, and needed a new front and back, and we all purchased new covers for our respective iPhones, and in the case of the granddaughters for their iPods.

After this we went to visit mum. She looked and seemed to be having a good day. We had a photo session and I will put a photograph of her on Facebook so people will know how she looks these days.

It was however a visit which started awkwardly as Mum was sitting with her friend who wouldn't leave to let us have time on our without. Rather she would answer ever question we put to Mum, and initiate all the conversation we were trying to have with Mum. She also took a shine to Daniel, which made us laugh, politely! So the first 20 minutes or so all we were having was a discussion with this lady called Maureen, who we had never seen before.

I have subsequently been very cross with myself, because this lady Maureen greatly annoyed and agitated me. If i had been in "Vicar" mode, I would have coped, and wouldn't have got annoyed as I would have understood what was going on, but I wasn't! After all we were in a residential home for people living with Alzheimer's and suffering from dementia, and I should have known and felt better!

After a little while the carers came and found something for Maureen to be involved with, so at least we had about a quarter an hour with mum on her own. She was clearly pleased to see us, even if she hadn't really a clue who we were. Very interestingly she kept referring to my father – Harry, and this is the first time I have known Her to do this for a long time.

Most of what Mum said didn't make any sense, even if she said it in her usual sweet way which gave it some credibility. Last time I visited Mum she was very agitated and cross with everybody. Yesterday she was much sweeter and more peaceful with herself, and with others.

The home where Mum is staying is called the Fairways in Grimsby, and I can't praise it enough. As I think I mentioned last time on Facebook, it is all very clean, sweet smelling, and with a very caring staff. I couldn't recommend it enough! I feel that I and my two sisters can do no better for our Mother.

Some of you will have known my mother – she really is and has always been a lovely lady. I know that she has taught me so much over my almost 62 years, and I think her caring personality has helped me no end in my ministry as a priest.

Very sadly she wouldn't be able to understand any of this if I told her. It is perhaps a lesson worth noting that we should say to people, particularly those we love and are closest to us, what we feel and how we care about them and how we are so thankful for them while and when we can – leaving it for another day may be too late.

So yesterday was a lovely day with my sister Elizabeth, and her husband Paul, and my nephew with their son Andrew. It's always great fun going to see them – after all my sister is 12 1/2 years younger than me and being the baby of the family she and her family always make me feel young!

I got home yesterday mid-evening just before I posted my blog and then promptly fell fast asleep in my chair. I was woken by Sue, taken to bed and had quite a good night's sleep.

I did however have a brief look out the window for the asteroids flying through the sky but sadly I found nothing.

And when I did wake at around 3am for my trip to the loo, I had a quick look at my twitter account and noticed it had been hacked. Please please will you note that I have no photographs that I would particularly like you to see and I didn't send the messages. I have since changed my password and I am hoping that this has sorted the problem out. I did note that yesterday I got a similar message from one of my followers asking me to do the same. I am assuming the two things are connected.

Well that's it for today – short and sweet, but When I have read through it, longer than I had intended.

Have a great weekend!

Looking forward and looking up!

It is 7 o'clock, and I am lying on my bed, wide-awake looking out the window. I got up an hour ago to go to the loo and to open the curtains - I love looking out at the sky, and at this end of Rainworth.

OK so Rainworth Fencing Company might not be the most exotic view in the world, but it is a view, and in the sunshine today, it all looks wonderful!

The sky is blue, with a few brushes of red - the forecast today is good, so I hope it's not a question of a "shepherds warning".

I am going to see my mother today in Grimsby, with my son Daniel, and two granddaughters, so I thought I would have a break from reflecting on my stay in hospital and the aftermath of the operations – I will keep those for another day.

Rather, I thought I would reflect on the three visitors I had yesterday, and what they had to say to me. I won't mention any names, but identify them by what they do – you may of course know their names but that's ok.

My first visitor yesterday was a Macmillan nurse.

I hadn't particularly asked for such a visit, but the district nurse who came to see me earlier in the week thought it would be good for me to have this contact so that when I really needed someone I knew who I was talking with.

She stayed with me almost an hour and a half and it was the most wonderful and helpful visit. We talked about my medication, pain, and constipation. She was very reaffirming and I can now expect a visit perhaps twice a year until I really need somebody more often.

I did express a wish to her that when the end was to come, however far away that may be, I would like it to be at home. She thought this would not be a problem, but of course she couldn't guarantee it – which I fully understand.

She did go on to raise an interesting issue – to which I had already given some careful consideration. Initially she was hesitant in raising the subject, but I did say to her that I thought I knew what was going to talk about and she was simply to go ahead with it.

Of course that question was about resuscitation – if I made a turn for the worse and for example my heart stopped or other organs failed, did I want to be resuscitated or not.

The answer I gave her, and I give to everyone, is that I don't want resuscitating.

Today we try and prolong life far too much, and whilst I am very grateful for all the expertise and medication I have already received, and know that without it I wouldn't be here now, we have to get the balance right. I am still having a good standard of life and of living, and the outlook is still quite good, but there will come a time when this will not be case, and rather than experiencing hell on earth, I should be focused more on the glory of everlasting life - heaven - after all that is what I have preached for all these years.

Next visitor was our local Vicar - a super person. We chatted for over an hour, mainly about Mansfield Deanery and the Diocese. We also chatted about my future plans, and my desire to take different services each week covering parishes without a Vicar, mainly in Newark and Southwell Deanery. Thought it was only right to share my plans with her, as former vicars living on the parish were they had recently been in charge, can be a problem, as I know too well from my own experience.

Between us I think we could sort the church out, and by golly it needs some sorting out.

The third visitor was the head of Religious Education at Dukeries College. Again a super chap.

Over the four years I have been a governor at Dukeries college, and got involved with the college (a secondary school) in a big way.

I also would visit the RE department as often as I could, and I tried to get on a couple of times a month. I found it so exhilarating having my faith challenged by the young people, who were just crying out for a spiritual need - a spiritual need that the church were not fulfilling. Questions, questions, questions, and the only answers the church so often gives, are answers to questions it thinks young people should be asking, not what they are asking!

It is now 12noon, and we over half way to Grimsby - and we have stopped for coffee. Using my iPhone today to write this posting, which slows me up.

Tomorrow I will reflect on my visit to my Mother.

Tonight I will again be looking out of my window - this time for football pitch sized asteroids which are passing very near. The effect of it seemed quite spectacular last night in Western Russia - I wonder if our show will be as spectacular.

See you tomorrow, unless I get hit by something from outer space!

The wonder of the moment

So once again I found myself in City Hospital Nottingham. I had been there at the beginning of August when my CT scan had shown the tumour very close to the main spinal chord.
 

Following radiotherapy at that time, it had grown back and worse – it was pressing against my main cord in the spine and was threatening to paralyse me totally. This was clearly being felt in my legs.

Things had to be done.

First of all I was booked for another MRI scan. I have only had two such scans, as opposed to 14 CT scans, but they are not my most enjoyable past time even if they are the most effective in helping in the battle against my cancer. You see me and the small tube through which my body has to pass don't realty go together very well - it's all a bit claustrophobic, although on this occasion they did give me a tablet to try and keep me a little calmer - and it did work.

Incidentally, have I told you that when I was curate at Wollaton I met, and indeed had a meal with the inventor of the MRI scanner, Sir Peter Mansfield. I married his daughter, and was invited to the reception, where I was seated next to Sir Peter on the top table. He was also a Nobel prize winner.

The food in the City Hospital was excellent – one of the evening meals I would willingly have paid at least £25 per person. QMC was not quite as good, although still of quite a high standard, and the Community Hospital in Kirkby in Ashfield, which was the final hospital I stayed in, didn't quite match up to either.

Anyway, after arriving at City Hospital, it wasn't long before I was transferred to the Queens Medical Centre in Nottingham, and in particular to its spinal unit. A ride in an ambulance!?!? No, sort of an ambulance, with no special suspension - just like any mini bus come to that, run by Arriva. I was in such a mini bus on 6 such occasions for transfers between hospitals, and for various appointments, but "Arriva!" - the same Arriva who run trains and buses - their hospital transport was extremely uncomfortable, especially after my operation.

Back to my admission to City Hospital - I do get side-tracked, don't I? I was immediately put on bed rest – which means I couldn't get out of bed for anything – not even to go to the toilet. For this latter natural process I was given a variety of cardboard bottles and pans, which I found extremely difficult to use. I was also thankful for the curtain round the bed.

And as the arranged day for my operation got nearer, it was carefully explained to me exactly what I was going to have done - they were going to remove the tumour from my spine, along with part of the spine itself. The missing spine was going to be replaced with a cage filled with some sort of cement and all that was to be screwed and bolted back to the spine above and below where the missing had come from.

Bionic Man!!

I also had to sign many papers indicating that I was well aware of the dangers, and what could go wrong. These included full paralysis of the body, severe and permanent pain, and even blindness. I remember subsequently waking up from my final operation and opening my eyes to see if I could still see.

Many of you will have followed me on Facebook during my period in hospital, and you will have seen the comments that I have made. I do apologise now if I chatted too much, but it so helped me. I do hope much of what I said made some sense.

 

Yes it's true I became an Abba fan once again with my very favourite piece of music being "Move On" - listen to it, and to the words. I felt that that music and the words more than anything else expressed how I was feeling at that precise moment in time, but more importantly what God was saying to me. I still feel it.

I also found myself chatting much more with my fellow patients on the wards, particularly once they found out that I was an Anglican priest. They wanted to know about every issue from what the church spends its millions on to what did I think of the new Archbishop of Canterbury – whose name was announced whilst I was in hospital. I was able to engage with all these questions, and able to answer hundreds more - many of which stemmed from some strange views nonchurch people have of the church today, about what it teaches, and how it operates. I also acquired the nickname "Father Ted" which pleased me greatly, although I have to say I have never seen the program in my life, although I know what it is about.

Those wonderful people, along with all those who looked after us, were, and remain in my prayers. I was fascinated by the doctors and their daily rounds each morning. They would arrive at my bed at 7:25am every morning and they would ask me how I was, and they would know all that had happened to me the previous day - they had read up all about me even at that unearthly hour.

And it was all done with military precision, with respect always being shown to the Consultant, or the Senior Fellow or the Registrar - whoever was the senior. And other people in other beds would have different teams coming to visit the at the same time - all extremely exciting! A bit like Doncaster Railway station, or any mainline station, with all the hustle and bustle, and the comings and goings.

I was able to set up quite a rapport with these doctors, many of whom would have been younger than my own children, and I was able to make them laugh as well. I was even able to make them laugh just before my major operation – and this pleased me greatly.

A sideline which I got involved in, was when one of the teaching registrars (QMC and City are part of the University and are teaching hospitals) came to ask me if he could use me as a "patient" for his doctors in training - and whilst I was in QMC he, along with 5 or 6 of his students came to see me at least 6 times and try and diagnose what was wrong with me, and what the appropriate course of action would be.

Anyway, back to the real thing - my tumour, my spine, my cage, my cement, and the bolts and screws needed to keep it in place. As my operation approached - I soon realised that I was in fact having two operations – or rather one procedure and one operation.

The operation took place on Thursday, 1st November, and the day before I went into the theatre to have a stent inserted in my groin which was threaded through my main artery up the spine to where the tumour was. It was then inserted into the tumour to drain all the blood. If there was too much blood in the tumour at the time of the operation, it would possibly mean the operation could not take place.

So that takes us up to the procedure, and the operation. On both days I remember going down to theatre, and then while waiting for my slot, being cared for by some wonderful people. I remember the person more vividly before the operation on the Thursday. She totally put me ay ease. I chatted with her for what seemed like ages. I assumed she had been a nurse, as she was dressed like one, but no, she started out working at QMC as a baker, and responded to an in-house job advert after working in the bakery for over 20 years. I am assuming she had been a good bakery, but she was excellent at the job she was now doing. She was also a practicing Christian, and part of our discussion revolved around how important it is to be Christ-focused in our lives.

So then came the injection, followed each day by 5 or 6 hours of sleep, and don't remember anything else at all.

 

But before I closed my eyes, I did have a feeling that despite all I had had to sign, and all that had been said to me about the possibility of things not going to plan, I did have a feeling that all would be well.

How different to last time, when all seemed so bleak, God seemed very close, and more than that, he was using me to get his message across in a way I had never been used before. I have always been of the opinion that in our vulnerability, God speaks so powerfully through us.

Not that I compare myself at all with St Paul, but that was his thinking, and here I was, completely vulnerable, being used so powerfully by our loving God.

WOW!!