A couple of people have told me recently, as I get used to having cancer, that I'm a positive person. I've never really seen that - I seem to be quite good at sweating the details which can lead to some classic catastrophizing at times!
But, as a potentially positive person, I'll take the compliment. I do think I'm quite a trusting type and, as I grow older, I'm increasingly seeing the goodness in myself, those around me, in nature and in the world as a whole. This doesn't deny the brokenness but is different to the idea of the world being essentially a bad, and dangerous, place that I inherited from my faith background.
A really helpful illustration I've taken on board in recent years is about the brain's tendency to 'velcro' the negatives and 'teflon' the positives, which means the one negative in a sea of 100 positives is the thing that often consumes us. So, through the encouragement of wise people like Richard Rohr, Tara Brach and Rick Hanson, I've tried to practise 'velcro-ing' the positives when they happen. This can be as simple as stopping for a few seconds to breathe in and appreciate a kind comment, a caring gesture, or a beautiful sunset, rather than just scrolling to the next thing on my phone.
The uncertainty of the past week or so has been hard and I'm really grateful that my bone scan is now set for this Friday, 5 May, at Royal Derby Hospital. This is thanks to the tenacity of Sharon, the Colorectal Cancer Navigator at Burton Hospital, after she received my initial scan date of 17 May and helped bring it forward. Before that, I meet the oncologist to discuss chemotherapy plans on Wednesday with the hope that chemo should start mid-May.
As my emotions continue to ping pong, making an ongoing list of reasons to be cheerful (hat tip to Ian Dury!) has helped. It's getting longer but so far includes: leftover school dinners (which Lisa brought home); kids who unload the dishwasher, put the washing out and make brownies; vinyl records; home-baked gifts left on the front door handle; texts and cards of encouragement; lunchtime pints and coffees with friends; walks in the drizzle; Bruce Almighty; family and friends who give the kids lifts and take Lisa away for the weekend; and NHS staff who are genuinely available and go beyond the call of duty.
I've also, literally, been stopped in my tracks on a few occasions by the natural world around me.
After dropping Macy at work in Fradley last weekend, I walked, as I sometimes do, along the canal there and came across this swan which just hovered, very still, staring at me.
I think it was guarding its mate that was nesting on the other bed of the canal, but it felt like it was directly engaging me.
Then, a few days later, I'd shared with people that the uncertainty over the markers on my spine felt like a cloud over me. Shortly after this, I went for a walk over the fields at the end of our road and up a hill where I was bowled over by this cloud formation.
I sensed the beauty of the clouds - to protect us from the sun and to provide rain to nourish the land. It felt like my cloud lifted a bit.
On Wednesday, I met my parents for a walk over Cannock Chase near Milford where we talked more about my diagnosis, treatment and how we were all doing. On the way back, I stopped off at a secluded fishing pool in a different part of the Chase near Hazelslade. As I approached the spot - which I sometimes visited on my way to work at Staffordshire Police years ago - a fox saw me and paused in my tracks before darting off. Again, I sensed a divine nudge. Yesterday, I listened to a podcast by Kent Dobson which quoted American farmer and poet Wendell Berry who, describing encountering wild animals as he sat in the woods, writes:
"Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song."
(from 'I Go Among Trees')
This took me back to the fox, and also feels like a metaphor for learning to sit with my fears, and encounters with previously unknown things, at this time.
And, finally, perhaps the most surprising sight of the week was when I spotted this woman walking her pet, Henry, near our house early on Friday.
I don't know who this lady is, but I think she's cleaned up in this week's Reasons To Be Cheerful contest ;)
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