One Feet in Front of the Other

I still recall the feeling of fear that gripped my entire body as I stood at the corner of this coffeeshop in Sarria last year. I clung on to the lamp-post, trying to look inconspicuous as the pilgrims of the day set about their way down the path, clearly marked.

That same fear has tried to reinstate itself in my being the last month past. As we moved from Step Zero towards Step Action which begins today. My father will begin his 1st line of treatment via chemotherapy and we hope this will arrest the cancer that has and continues to spread through his body.

While I am ready, as I was for the Camino - I know at some point, fear and trepidation will grip me once again. Add to that, so long as the tumour(s) remains unresectable, we will always need to be on guard for it to "come back". 

So I need to dig really deep and go back to the corner coffeeshop, take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other and start walking. And to remember that for 5 long days, even though my body was ready to leave me - I got up each day and finished the day's route.

No matter how long or short this battle is - I know I can do it with my Dad and the rest of my family. I have the Camino in me to remind me that once I start something - I can finish it with heads held high.

I'm Begging You Please

Today I am begging God to take this trial away from me. To spare me this journey in whatever means and forms He can. To have that compassion for me and not put me through anymore.

Elephants & Ants

Here are the UK statistics on liver cancer:

• Only about 1 out of 10 people (10%) are diagnosed in the early stages of this disease when surgery can help -> Dad appears to have fallen into this category!
• Overall, around 20% of people live for at least 1 year after diagnosis.
• Around 1 in 20 people (5%) live for at least 5 years.

In the 7 days since he has been diagnosed to have yet another tumour, this time on his liver, I have just had about everything drained out of me. But more importantly, my peace has been snatched right out from under me by the mere simple reason that everyone quietly whispers around corners of me being "ye of little faith."

I am not one of those people with a perversion in exclaiming "My father has cancers!" Trust me - if the tests turns out that they were merely harmless tumours, I would be the first to go on my knees, kiss the grounds and jump around shouting "Hallelujah" like them Hari-krishnans in the hippy days of the '60s.

I believe (as said in the book Angels and Demons) - Science and Faith can co-exists. I believe God allowed medicine to be a career choice because sometimes, He needs a pair of physical hands to do His work for Him! And with medicine - there is no "one step" at a time because with this sort of illness - time is of the essence.

Using the pictograms that I use with Lydia to talk about her emotions - today I am:

• Disappointed - At the state of healthcare and medicine in my country. At my financial health that is preventing me from flying my parents out 1st class to where my faith in Medicine is most firm.
• Envious - That other people see ants and I don't - I only see the blinking blimey elephant and try as I may to pretend 'it's furniture that came with the house', I bloody can't!
• Frustrated - Everything step, every action is a hitting a wall FROM BOTH SIDES!
• Angry - That people think all my running around is a waste of time because God will sort it out. That I allow the opinions of people to affect me in such a way that I am all these emotions today.

Today, I am still.

In a World of Plenty

Our priest said during his Sunday Sermon, that God gave the world 4-times over what we need in order to survive and live. However, it is not always a balance dispersion of that "wealth".

As I walked to grab breakfast for the kids before Mass that day, I passed an elderly lady in a wheelchair. She had some bandages around her ankles, she looked rather disheveled. She had bags of plastic carriers in her lap, and not far on the visitors chair, slept a young boy with a t-shirt draped over his body to keep him from the blast of the air-cond. On my way back, the lady, through her tears, stopped me, crying "Sister tolong (help)!"

She had been ill, and came to the hospital for help. But now had no money to pay the bill. The hospital did not want to release her medication until her bill was settled. I had also walked past the hospital administrators, whispering about how they should only help "the really needy and worthy" - only then I did not know who they were whispering about.

When God made us, He gave us 2 eyes to see with, 2 ears to listen with, 1 mouth to speak out with and 1 heart to feel and dispense His love from. And while He also gave us a mind and intellect to think with, who are we to judge on matters such as "need" or "worthiness"?

Some may say I was a sucker who fell for her plea of help. But that opinion would only matter to me if it came from someone who truly knew that lady, as in her person, her circumstance.

In this world of 4-folds of unbalance - I rely only on what my 2 eyes show me, my 2 ears hear, my 1 mouth to say "Let me help" and my 1 heart to tell me I have done right. And while I should feel joy; joy that I no longer hesitate or ponder what people would think of me when I step out of the norm, I feel only sadness.

For I would gladly pay her bill and others many times over if it would spare my family from this road that we are travelling on. 

In this world of plenty, we have nothing if we do not have our health and our loved ones with us.

God of Faithfulness

I am trying this grey morning to remember the number of times I walked without my feet touching the ground; the times when God carried me on the back of His shoulders.

We are having a severe medical crisis at home. It was not what I expected and it is breaking me into tiny little bits. It is shattering my faith and my belief, letting all my pin-holes of doubt rip through.

On one hand, I feel like one big disappointment - you would think after everything I have been through in the past 18 months, I would be much stronger and courageous than this. 

On the other hand, there is a quiet comfort that sits in the corner, just waiting for me to reach out to it. It's like a giant beanbag that will just enfold me if I move to sit towards it.

But I am standing still, not moving left nor right. Neither am I moving forwards nor backwards. And in all honesty, now it not the time to stand still. I should be running - running towards that quiet corner. 

So run I will. Cos while I have my book of contacts and my intellect to ask the right questions and discuss the possibilities - there is only one ultimate healer of all.

"Lord, if you but only say the word, my dad shall be healed."

Pandora's Box

On the drive to my parent's place on Friday evening, I sat in traffic and made a plea with God: To take all this challenges about me as I am not ready to do battle in His Name for Him.

I know deep down that such pleas are not the right way to go. As Ben says it - if you have to ask for anything, ask for Strength and Courage.

Yesterday at Mass, the Bible reading said - it is in your weakness that I am strong. And I know that it is when we are lowest that God is strongest in our lives. But my mental and emotional fatigue is at such a large number that I do not want to turn anywhere - I just want to sit where I am and bawl.

I am not on the Camino. Yet, I keep hoping that as with my Camino, as I sit at this crossroad - drained and unable to continue, some old lady will come and quietly sit next to me, pat me on my knee to convey the message that all will be alright in the end. And because it has happened before, I stay still and keep hoping that it will happen again.

This morning I know the difference the between then and now. Then, I had God close to my heart and my consciousness. Now - I may be still but I have not stayed still.

Perhaps it will come to me - as in what I need to do, what I should I, what I have not done. But for now, I am just gonna sit here and cry. Cry until there is nothing left.

Learning Still: Parenting Love

My dad came up with this phrase: Parents should not insist that their children owe them a living. Likewise, children should not think that they owe their parents a living.

It angered me the first time I 'heard' (rather read) it, which was about a year ago on his Facebook page. It angered me cos I thought he was indirectly slapping me on the wrist over the house fiasco.

As I read through the first draft of this book of his that I am editing (still!), it came up again towards the end (oops - was that a spoiler?). Again, the same anger (though very much less in heat) flared. I thought - have I not done enough?

This morning, the start of the Camino 1st Anniversary Countdown (for I started on my journey this day, a year ago), it suddenly dawned on me what he means when he says "Children should not think they owe their parents a living."

In my line of work, I meet all sorts of parents. Some I truly admire. Some I just want to throttle and slap with a trout. As much as it is my opinion that sometimes parents are the cause of their children's ruination, dad's wise words is now showing me a different aspect - at the end of the day, it is all done in the name of love.

The parent who hovers and insists on doing everything for their child - while I may think they are not letting the child learn - they cannot be faulted for being so full of love that while the child may be 19, they are still 9 months in their parents' eyes.

Similarly, people who do not know me, when they see me with Lydia and Luke, they may say I couldn't care less about them, leaving them to do things on their own. Yet, in my mind, my intention is for them to learn independence NOW so that if anything should happen to me, I have at least imparted my knowledge of living skills on to them.

But coming back, like I said - it is done in the name of love. And as we grow up and the roles reverse, we must not forget that our parents were once children as well. And that they are not so old that they become blind to instances when we do things because we felt we had to. That it was an obligation, and not a 'sincere desire driven by love' to do it for them.

I get it now. And the 'anger' is replaced by 'shame' as I recount the number of times I did things because I thought "If I didn't do it - then who is going to?" For that was never what my own parents wanted. But I am glad, I get it now - that there is time to make good and be better.


Loving your parents is no different from loving your spouse, your boyfriend / girlfriend or partner: we do it cos we want to.