The Big Things in Life

The Big "Four-Oh"

“Life begins at 40” read some of the messages on my birthday cards. Others told me that I was now over the hill. I’m not sure that either sentiment is really true, but my experience has been that having completed my fourth decade of life, it has definitely felt like downhill since then.

My birthday celebrations happened, but I didn’t really enjoy them – I couldn’t, such was the pain I was in. A family meal at a really lovely country pub restaurant was curtailed. I couldn’t eat. I was suffering with constipation, bloating and abdominal cramping pain. In tears, I gave in to my wife’s insistence that she take me to hospital. On my birthday. But that, two further urgent doctor’s appointments and two visits to A&E over the subsequent fortnight provided no satisfactory answers. It was suggested to me that I was merely struggling with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) which might have been triggered by my diet or stress. (I was even told that A&E wasn’t the place to be for this sort of problem). It took a further two weeks, an afternoon of throwing up and a 999 call to get things moving. The paramedics who saw me at home and took me into A&E for my 3^rd visit were fairly convinced that it was a blockage in my bowel. Some hours later a CT scan proved them to be right. I finally had an answer and a path forward. After another 24 hours I was made ready for the emergency surgery which would remove the tumour from my large intestine.

I was told to expect to be in hospital for 10-14 days as I recovered from the surgery. The next few days weren’t pretty. I passed out once when my catheter was blocked and all the swollen parts of my abdomen pressed against each other. I threw up once when my NG tube hadn’t been used to empty my stomach contents. I had a colostomy bag to get my head around – learning to empty and change the temporary container that I now poo into. One of the patients on my ward couldn’t be resuscitated one morning, and although he was a good number of years older than me, it temporarily triggered a fairly fatalistic train of thought.

But little by little, day by day, things improved. The staff on my ward were great and aside from being woken at half 5 every morning to have my blood pressure, temperature and heart rate checked, the experience wasn’t all that bad. Hospital food worried me – but when I finally got to the stage of being allowed to eat, I was pleasantly surprised. The first bowl of chicken soup was one of the best things I have ever tasted. We had access to free wifi, so I had plenty to keep me entertained. I was buoyed by having a new-found friend in the bed opposite me. Most people on the ward were something like 20, 30 or 40 years older than me. But Michael was just 5 months older, and was admitted to hospital on the same day with the same problem and required the same operation (and the same initial mis-diagnosis). We timed it well so that his good days were on my bad ones, and my good days were on his bad ones. So we kept each other’s spirits up and are still in touch. Having someone to talk to with a similar set of circumstances, diagnosis, profession and family was invaluable. I was sad we couldn’t both go home at the same time, but he was there another week after I left on day 9. We plan on meeting up for a game of tennis, a beer and a curry when we are both better.

The Big "C"

It was a week and a half later when Laura and I went to hear the results of my biopsy. As we walked into the hospital, we had heard a massive rumble of thunder – Laura and I looked at each other with a similar sense of foreboding. There was a lot to get my head around, but I already knew that nothing had spread to any other organs. This was obviously good news. The questions that needed answering now were – was the tumour cancerous? How far had it gone through my bowel? And had it gone into any of the lymph nodes? To say that the answers to all 3 were pretty bad would be an understatement. It was the big “C” - cancer. It had gone all the way through the bowel lining and had been detected in quite a number of lymph nodes. So whilst the tumour was out – and they got it all – further treatment was now needed to ensure it didn’t come back. And that would mean chemotherapy.

They say you don’t process news like that immediately. In fact, weeks on, I am still not sure I have fully processed it. I don't think I was in denial, but shock certainly. The Macmillan nurse was brilliant - giving Laura and I space to be alone together for a few minutes, before really focusing on the positives to my situation. I was recovering from the surgery really well and my age, general health and fitness should mean I could cope with the chemo and it's side effects really well. A later meeting with the oncologist told me my treatment would be for 6 months and would be administered via a mix of tablets at home and intravenous drip once every 3 weeks. But the big C had reared it's ugly head and decided to pick on me. Not that I'd done anything wrong. The consultant told me it was "just bad luck". An intimidating, indiscriminate, aggressive giant of a disease that decided to ruin my 40th birthday.

The Big "G"

But if this is the year of the Big Four-Oh and the Big C, then I am incredibly grateful to know the presence of the Big G in my life. I am a fully-paid up, Bible-believing, born-again Christian, who loves God and does his best to follow Him. Having God in your life changes your perspective on these things dramatically.

I have been encouraged in so many ways. I have never felt alone - one of the most amazing things. I've known Jesus to be with me even as I waited to go into the operating theatre. I was recently introduced to a song which became very precious to me, which was a reminder of how He is with me every step (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMq2-nyqlv0). I have also been given some really encouraging passages from the bible. Deuteronomy 2:7 tells of how God has "watched over your journey through the desert these 40 years and the Lord your God has been with you." Psalm 23 - Laura's favourite psalm - describes God as my shepherd who makes me lies down in green pastures, who leads me beside still waters, and who restores my soul. The writer goes on to say that "even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil for you are with me."

That psalm was written by David - the giant-slayer who defeated Goliath. Remember him? I always find it funny how his story is trotted out on Match of the Day whenever an FA Cup shock takes place. A minnow from the lower leagues has just knocked out one of the big boys from the Premier League. But you see they get it wrong. David and Goliath isn't a story about an upset or shock result. Goliath is big, yes. A giant. But David comes at him in God's strength. And God is bigger. Way bigger. The God who is "able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine" (Ephesians 3:20). So of course David was always going to deal with Goliath. David's God is my God, my shepherd, who doesn't leave me to walk through the dark valley on my own, but walks with me. He is ready to defend me, to heal me and to lead me out at the other end and into the sunshine. The Big "C" might be big and scary. But my God is bigger!

I have had lots of people get in touch with me. Old friends I have not seen for years have sent messages or visited. People have been praying for me in Australia, Jerusalem and Zambia. And maybe some countries I don't know about. In the UK, people have been praying from the North of England to the South Coast; from Cornwall to East Anglia. I have never felt so loved and appreciated. With Liverpool winning the Champions League this season (my team!), I have been reminded to never give up no matter how bleak the prospects are (Liverpool came from 3-0 down to beat the mighty Barcelona 4-3 in the semi-finals) and that in the words of the club's stirring anthem "You'll Never Walk Alone". When my workmates bought me the new Liverpool shirt as a get-well-soon gift, I knew that to be true in lots of ways.

One friend has tapped into my love of C.S.Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia. She wrote a quote in a card that she gave me - it didn't so much tug on my heart strings as snap them in two! I broke down reading them and wept into my Dad's arms. It is a prophecy which talks about how Aslan the Lion will bring an end to Narnia's suffering of being under the curse of an everlasting winter (but never Christmas).

Aslan is the Jesus-figure in Lewis' well-loved allegory "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe". He isn't a tame lion. You can't demand that he do things your way. He isn't safe. But he is good. He's the King.

So as I consider how my life has flip turned upside down over the last few months I am holding on to the fact that life begins at 40 - it's not all downhill. I hope to look back on this part of my life and see it as a significant episode, not the end of the story. I intend to look the "Big C" in the eye and deem it not to be as big or scary as it would like me to think. And I will lift my eyes up to where my help comes from (Psalm 121). I will say of the Lord "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust" (Psalm 91). I will walk through that dark valley and not be afraid because the "Big G" is with me. And I will be hopeful, expectant and excited for what he will do in my life, for the rest of the story that is yet to be told. Because they say: Aslan is on the move...