July 2020. Unexpected journey.

Hi. Long time since I have put up a blog entry so I thought I would include this brief article I completed a couple of days ago for the local Salisbury Quaker meeting monthly newsletter. They had requested articles on what Friends had been doing during July.

Pre-amble; - my last blog saw me arrive back to UK where I quickly settled into lockdown out front of my brothers house. I had electric, water & easy access to a manhole cover for my black water (moho term for unmentionables) I was sorted & quickly settled into a mixture of lockdown, chatting to my bro through his window as he was classed as vulnerable too, & ordering up & repairing my front grille & passenger side mirror assembly both of which had been stitched up with Gaffer tape & Cable ties since my Portuguese adventures.

I even, when contacted by the hospital, delayed my 'blood test' & subsequent Oncology phone consultation for a fortnight as I did not particularly want to enter the local hospital at what was then peak Covid19 time. I had no worries in that area anyway as my Dec 2019 bloods had all been normal & if anything I was even healthier than back then

Hmmmm! Read on.
.............
July's unexpected journey.

My July started early. June the 4th to be exact and it was as I listened with growing dismay, plus a big chunk of denial, to my Oncologist who was supposed, via this phone consultation, to be confirming that my blood levels were normal. I was fit and healthy and this was after all a routine after cancer call in the NHS 5year cancer follow up program.

"I'm afraid there are anomalies in your blood count".

"Whaat; nooo; this cannot be happening, not again, not so soon after my Oesophagael cancer journey".

Of course my consultant was right and it was true. Once again the journey through initial shock, denial, lamentation and despair commenced. A couple of weeks of free fall ensued before sense, grip, humour and faith kicked in with a bumpy parachute landing upon the ground of reality.

'if I choose to like or dislike,
that is the disease (dis-ease) of the mind.
If I do I lose the hidden meaning
and peace of mind is needlessly disturbed'.
(Seng San; The great way)

My July holiday in Southampton General Hospital for removal of a single tumour via liver re-section commenced on July 8th just as England as a whole started to relax Covid19 restrictions.

There ensued Irony as with sore and aching body plus opiod pain relief affected mind I gazed out of my high in the sky surgical ward window down onto redundant and empty Cruise liners unable to fulfil their role of giving people real holidays.

Any journey through the NHS labyrinth is a humbling journey as you are flung, haphazardly it seems at times, down corridor after corridor of professionalism, medical non understanding & not knowing to an eventual form of wellness or not.

On my NHS travels I have found that there is one common denominator met at every twist and turn of this corridored labrynth. Compassion. Compassion with its many ingredients. Patience, kindness, a gentle touch, listening, professionalism, and of course humour.

I have witnessed even the most difficult of patients doggedly cared for with that same compassion. I commented to one nurse as her team once again tried best they could to carry out a procedure on a scared and frightened patient whose fear was erupting in verbal and physical abuse.

I asked. "How do you manage that calm and measured approach in the face of such verbal and physical obstinacy?"

"I don't know what trauma that person has faced in the past". Was her reply.

I was in a super clean Surgical recovery ward in a hospital with its own history of MRSA problems and we were in the middle of a Covid19 pandemic. All staff were having to deal with even more fearful patients who were not able to receive the normal support and love of family visits due to Covid19 restrictions.

Did I see a drop in that level of compassionate professiolism?

No. I did not.

If anything I felt an increase right from the level of the early morning green jacketed cleaners through the beige jacketed catering staff to nurses of all levels and right up to my own surgeon freely admitting to the fact that when he was in for his own surgery he ordered M&S food rather than face the hospitals own offering. Admittedly; that food offering was not Cordon Bleau, but it was tolerable. Especially when served to you with cheerful words and a willingness to meet with 'off menu' requirements if it was within their scope.

I'm fortunate in having a robustness of body that soon had me out and about on little excursions around the vast hospital complex. One of my finds was the beautiful and peaceful multi faith Chapel with its sun kissed 1993 bronze artwork by artist 'Mani Brett' . I joined in with Quaker worship within its cavernous and empty peace and quiet for as long as I was able to on the Sunday morning. I visited most days and noted the regular use by staff and patients of, in particular, the Muslim and Christian side rooms.

So all in all this was a journey I didn't want, didn't expect, but had to begrudgingly accept. God's will. The great way. The road less travelled. Universal mischief. Call it what you like it does not matter as for me it has been, and still is (July has a long way to go yet) one more humbling learning experience granted to me and tailored exactly to my fit on this wobbly roundabout with no way out called life.

I end with another verse, this time modified by me, from 

'The Great Way' by Seng San.

'The way is round and perfect
Like a vast space that contains everything
but which never ever overflows.
It is only when I take or reject
that I lose the means to know
It's unbelievable and infinite creative magnitude'.