Humility 101, for the mature, if not elderly, student. Must have take 'Life' prior to enrolling.

I am sitting at the conclusion of 24 hours of stress and humiliation. Sounds melodramatic, right? Let me try and summmarize it for you, using discreet language. Thursday afternoon, I began to have major problems with the passing of water. The problem: most of what I passed was bloody…then blood, period. Then, less, then little, then none. As you might guess, this is bad news. There ensued a mad dash to the hospital, an agonized (literally) wait for attention, and then gradual releif. End of story…should be. But not so. From then on, the problem was with catheters malfunctioning, or not functioning at all. This still goes on, although I am home and trying to cope with this dilemma without professional help.

Let me close the curtain on the gory…and otherwise…details. My point, this time around, is to share with you some of my reflections on this aspect of aging and mortality. Through the day, I have mused about the reality of failing attempts to preserve one's dignity and decorum in a situation where this becomes impossible. The only recourse is to suck it up and "be there" in the midst of embarrassment. I'm sure that some of you have experienced this, and endured it, more then once. It is a powerful reminder that most of what we use to make ourselves feel important and 'above it all' is artificial and, ultimately, bogus.

Facing our own humanity in terms of bodily functions that don't function and exposed nakedness in unusual situations is a daunting task. During the day, I had a vivid recall of a TV sketch by Joan Rivers many decades ago. It concerned people you meet in the gynacologist's office. The most hilarious and revealing segment concerned seeing, through the door left partially open while the MD stepped out to get a nurse, an old high school beau, there to pick up his spouse. He comes to the door with a cheery "Hi Joanie, haven't seen you in ages!" Her response is delivered through her knees, raised high because her feet are in the stirrups!

I don't minimize the shame and embarrassment of this moment for 'Joanie,' but I freshly appreciated her internal response: "I was surprised that he remembered what I looked like…down there. I guess I haven't changed as much as I thought!" From the outside, it is funny. From the inside, what shred of dignity is left a person?

I shared that feeling more than once today, and deeply appreciated the calm professionalism of the three nurses that dealt with me over time; two women and one man. All were superb…and i loved them for it. One was a student…could have been my grandchild…very cool and crisp. Thank God.

Another subject of my reflection concerns the health care system in this province. It is supposedly a cut above many others, but I'm doubting that on a number of fronts. The drive to save money is blatant, and seems to be done at the expense of the patient…or client, to use the current euphemism for people in distress who are at your mercy! A hospital stay of four days, announced before the procedure, suddenly becomes three because the Unit closes for the weekend (to save money), and if you are sick enough (ie at death's door), they will transfer you to another unit. The first day at home (really the fourth day of hospital needs) is miserable because it is clear that you continue to need hat only the hospital can provide.

Staffing in ER is another obvious place to save money. The local hospital has two staff on in ER at night, with up to ten"clients" is EZ boy chairs around the halls, in cubby holes and corners. All examining rooms are full by midnight, and new patients are examined on the fly. The two staff are simply running, holding crises, minor and major, at bay until the end of their shift. Apart from the lack of privacy, and absence of a caring presence, there is always the weird woman who talks on her cell phone in ear shattering stage whisper about some body's breast tumour!

My current experience was of a night in an examining room, made as comfortable as possible with warm blankets and soft light provided by a X-ray reader on the wall.Staff were not around all night, but I did sleep a bit. All this because to admit me would commit the institution to bed care, and take money from a nursing budget. Dollars again. Freely, but surreptitiously acknowledged by the staff, who carry the burden an take the flak. No wonder they have those stern posters all over the waiting room about the 'Consequences of Abusing Staff,' ranging from banishment to the end of the line (surely a calming gesture) to arrest and expulsion. Like…take your misery somewhere else,where someone will actually care! Well, no one ever says that, but the posters do, and they keep even the most frustrate patient silent and fuming. Good for the blood pressure and gastric juices, I'm sure. Good for the prayer life as well, if you are so inclined: "O God, I hope they come soon…" Or, "How long will this hell last? And what have I done to deserve this?" Non prayers shrug on  a jacket over their all-access gown and step out into a) rain, b) snow, c)wind, d) -27°. This IS Alberta after all, and not South Carolina!

Opposition parties in Alberta are always bleating about the money the government is wasting on health care, or rather IN health care. I can tell you, it isn't at the level of 'here i come through the door in deep distress, scared out of my wits and needing comfort and an ear as much or more than a pill and catheter…although a catheter that worked was nice in my case.

I did not reflect on God today. I FELT that God was far away in theological terms, and very IMMANENT in young bodies and brains that actually cared about me, and discussed running while trying insert a BIGGER catheter! (As what a "20" i the next time you are in ER. It will put your stress in perspective.

I was treated very well by the people I came in contact with. They talked to me, they listened to me, they treated me like the human I am, and they did their best. Of course, being me (some of you will understand and appreciate that caveat), I harboured all the potential worse case scenarios possible, and I had my secret weapon if I was pushed to the proverbial wall: "I worked with Chris Eagle years ago!" Dr. Chris Eagle is the Top Banana of Alberta Health. We were on an Ethics committee together int he 90's. Like, he'll remember me like a brother, right? Ad will want "something done"! Even though the latest Alberta scandal has to do with hotshots jumping the cue.I hug this weapon that I could never, and would never use. But it helps keep my sense of agency in place. "Just push me too far, Doc, or I'll lower the boom an ya!"

In the end ( so far) I have come aw wit great appreciation for nursing skills in the grotty areas of bodily care, and at my own incompetence here, as well as my terror of uncontrolled body functions not doing hat i want them to do. When I finish this I am going to write tho that self-same Chris Eagle and comment "my" nurses in Wetaskiwin by name and give them the plaudits they deserve. The crap I'm sure they hear regularly.

Well, it is after midnight - another day is upon us - and I haven't slept in this one yet. My catheter appears to be working, so I crash. Day one of Humility 101 is over. Day two could begin at any time!

Not dead…!

Rumours of my death are greatly exaggerated. I have been away…I have been busy…I have forgotten that I might have something to say. So here I am, for anyone with enough patience to come back and see if I've written anything lately.

Last week I was away for a good part of the week at a workshop for clergy types in team ministry, or as we clergy are prone to say, Team Ministry. Things that are capitalized are more important, you know, like the name of God.

Anyway…it was a good experience for me. I did come to realize that where I work we are NOT a team, and need to face that fact, and deal with our work life accordingly. But that didn't stop me enjoying the enthusiastic team ministry folk sharing their learning with one another. The big thing about team ministry is how it mitigates against the sense of isolation so many ministers feel. In a team, you have a colleague to share things with, test ideas against, and share responsibility for activities that might receive blow back.

I found it fascinating to watch from my aged vantage point. Some of the participants were the age of my children. Many more were the age of some of my grandchildren. They spoke in language categories that I didn't always understand. The quoted authors I had never heard of. But they were keen to share what they knew and to take in wisdom from others in the group. Many of them could see immediately, I think, that I was not on their page. But they were polite and they were inclusive, and I did learn some things that I feel were valuable.

Using my new-found knowledge to reflect on own current work situation, I began to understand why I feel such dread as I approach the weekend in the congregation. I don't feel like i "belong" there. This partly my own issue of belonging/not belonging, but it is also related to the fat that my colleague has been the incumbent for 18 years, and most questions, information and relating focus on him. Some younger members have had him as their minister their whole lives!

I have five months left in my contract there, and I am quite serious about not renewing it, should they want or need to renew because they don't have a replacement person yet. I'm sure they would want me to remain over the summer, if only because they have six Sundays to cover when my colleague will be absent…which leaves very little summer for me!

I don't belong there, and I'm not even sure if I want to belong there. To be 'second fiddle' in a place without even a clear job description is a recipe for frustration, and frustration is what I feel these days.

Complicating all of this is the up and down nature of my recovery from surgery. Mostly, it's fine. But then a time arises - like Sunday, when I'm racing around the country conducting two worship services in place of a 35 year old student - when I start to blood in my urine again, and have to slow down and lie down for the afternoon when I get home. One never knows when this will happen. It's normal over the first 4 to 6 weeks weeks post surgery. Sigh…

Beatrix and I took in The Life of Pi at our local theatre last evening. I have somehow managed not to read the book, so the story was new to me. New and fascinating. A visually rich and dynamic parable about what it is like to pass through a hard life. Symbols abound, and growth is described in a number of cunning metaphors. Now I have to find the book …I think it's here in the house…and read it. Jan Martel deserves that!

Walking in the dark yesterday morning, I cobbled together the beginnings of a sermon for Sunday. I plan to inject into its conclusion, a sort of hypnotic suggestion to fix an idea or a plan in peoples minds. I'll let you know how it works.

Recovery

It's been a while. Visit to distant children and then a brief stint in hospital took me off my game. At the moment…no excuse. I don't feel as though I have anything to say.

Oh wait…hospitals. Things have changed a good deal over the dozen years since I left the Spiritual Care service. Volunteers deliver meals a lot of the time. On some units, there is no choice given patients about the meals. It's "Take it…or leave it." Actually, the meals were quite good…better than five years ago. Thin staffing for a surgical unit. Better pray there are no emergencies. No medical Residents running around, either. Just nursing students. And they were delightful, and competent. Great commitment to learning. My student was doing "vitals" on me (heart, BP, etc.) and excused herself to find her instructor. The Instructor came in and listened to my heart, then said, "Yes, there is a murmur there." GREAT excitement. A. The student recognized it, and B. She identified it correctly. They told me that the student had never heard a murmur before, except on DVD. Could she bring hr partner in to hear it too? Of course. Within five minutes I had eight beauties lined up at the foot of my bed just to hear my heart beat! I explained that I knew about it, that it wasn't judged urgent, and that surgery will come after a bit. What a blast.

Some surprises came with the surgery. It wasn't serious serious, but it took a lot out of me (forgive the pun.) Can't believe how quickly I tire four days post op. I'm convinced they should have kept us until today, as they said they would at the start. The unit closes for Sunday, so they have to kick everyone out. I imagine to get transferred to another unit, you'd have to be really sick. They avoid the paperwork. In any case, I was sweaty and weak all day yesterday, better today, but my attention span is very short. I have agreed to preach next Sunday, and at the moment I'm regretting that choice. Let;s see what Monday and Tuesday bring.

This afternoon I started teaching Beatrix how to run the snow blower. The boy with whom we had arranged snow clearing is nowhere to be found this weekend, after a major/minor blow. I am not allowed even to wrestle the machine or shovel for six weeks. Beatrix is a quick study, but the machine is heavy, and I was trying to do the odd thing. She spent some energy screaming at me, but the machine is so loud I couldn't hear her…mercifully! In any case, she has the basic, and with supervision, can do it again, with me alongside to guide her. So"if the boy is a no-show, we blow snow."

Speaking of short attention spans, mine has disappeared. So I'll stop. Too many preachers keep on talking long after they have run out of things to say. Til next time…

Sleeper!

Our video store is closing! Disaster! Anxiety! But wait…we have Netflix. True, we never can get reasonable first run movies…but it's cheap! When we discovered the closing, we went in to purchase a few of the remaining DVDs, of which there were only a few. We'd missed the rush for all the up-to-date good stuff. However, we scored a sleeper: Iron Sky. This is a space spoof, plus a wickedly funny political satire about current US politics! Made by Finns, in cooperation with Germany and Australia, it features nobody you've ever heard of, having a wonderful time camping it up as German Nazis, who've been hiding on the dark side of the moon since 1945, mining Helium 3, which powers their space crafts. They are planning an earth invasion anytime soon. Everything they have is up-to-date 1945 clunky Nazi design. Their one computer is as big as an apartment block, but has less computing power than an iPhone. (They plan a mission to earth to get more iPhones and a charger so they can work their computer!

The head Nazi is big and beautiful and Aryan; the head maidchen is small and blond and very cute, whose stocking seams are always straight! They are the projected parents of the next generation of Aryan perfect children.

Meanwhile, on earth, there is a Presidential election going on. The current president, a gum chewing woman who seems to spend all her time in workout clothes working out on a StairMaster, is desperate for an Issue to thump to get her elected. Her chief of staff is a witchy, hot and bitchy woman, who appears to be unscrupulous as as she needs to be to get things done.

Some examples of guffaw lines: the President, accused at the UN of lying, says: "Knock it off…that's what we do!" Upon being warned of the impending Nazi space invasion, she is overjoyed! "Oh, boy! A war! Just what I need to get re-elected. No one defeats a war President in the middle of a war! And this against a really tough enemy! We haven't won a war since WW2 - we NEED this war!"

When the Pres meets the head Nazi, they get along fine! She listens to his Nazi "master race" line, and with very little polishing, it shows up in her Republican acceptance speech as good Republican policy!

By the way, the US's biggest space ship is the "George W. Bush"! And it goes on…At times, the camp is a bit heavy, but as long as you keep "Spoof" nearby in your brain, you can see the point. I can't imagine this being released anywhere in the US, but it's a great chuckle at the Americans expense.

I have no idea where you can get it, but look in the dark corners of your local video store, should you have one. It's worth the 92 minutes it takes to resolve the plot and have the good guys win.

The turn of the year…

The last day of 2012! I should have something to say on such a landmark occasion, but as so often happens at these moments, I am just filled with nostalgia. And not necessarily about 2012. At my age, these things called "years" race by with such speed that I can hardly see it all the first time by, never mind in recall mode!

I "discovered" my fountain pens again last week. You didn't know I had fountain pens? There was a long period in my life when that fetish was active. Over the years I have collected five really good fountain pens, three the 'suck up the ink' type, two the 'cartiridge ink' type. Three are Parkers, two are Shaeffer's. I have gone through long periods when I loved to write with REAL ink. It's classy, smooth, and my signature looks really professional. Such juvenile wanderings! Perhaps it's a sign of maturity that, although I've kept these pens all these years, I haven't touched them, or even knew where they were, for fifteen years! Perhaps it's a sign of senility that, once again, I am thrilled to have them working, and use at lest one of them each day!

Then, there is the clock. My daughter asked me about the old windup clock that sat on my mother;s buffet all the time In was growing up. It was wound faithfully, kept pretty good time, and rang out the hours regularly, sometimes waking me at night when I slept in the bedroom next to the dining room. The fact is, I have no idea what happened to it. When we broke up my mother's house after her death, furniture went in all directions, and the clock got lost in the shuffle. I'm sure it "went" to someone, but I have no idea to whom! Perhaps Caley; I'll ask when I see her next month, almost this month.

It's odd how year end meditations take you one far into the past, rather than just down the block of this past year. I remember the New Year's Eve when I was seventeen. Three of us - Casey, Al and I, decided that we would make "New Year's visits" on all my parents Scottish friends. And so we did. Of course, New Year's visits - or 'Hogmanay' visits, as the Scots would say, require the host to invite you in and offer you a drink. Wikipedia sums it up nicely: " It is ordinary among some plebeians in the South of Scotland to go about from door to door upon New-years Eve, crying Hagmane."

Folk were very welcoming, though I'm sure that they could all see what we were about. Underage though we were, they could "no refuse uz  drink" on Hogmanay. And so off we went, three increasingly tipsy teenage boys, proud as punch to have found a legitimate way to get drunk on someone else's money, and all the time being well within the bounds of cultural convention. We gave no thought to the mixture we were imbibing: rum, here, scotch there, wine at that place, a beer at the next. These were all short visits, you understand - less than a half hour, so were drinking at a steady rate. None of us had wheels in those days, so were walking all over Transcona on a cold winter's night,  -25 at least. 

I got in around 1:30 AM: we split up at a corner, and each walked his own way home. In the morning, I felt fine. My partners in pleasure were not so lucky. Each had a blinding headache and a bilious stomach I even smoked a cigar that New Year's Day! That was the only time in my life that I did such a thing, and I have wondered more than once if the folk we visited had a good laugh at us after we left, being quite aware of what we were up to.

So, in a few hours, the year will turn, at least in our minds. Useful to remember that on the Christian calendar, the last day of the year is "Christ the Kin g" Sunday in November. Advent begins the next Sunday, and is the opening of the Christian Year. The Chinese have a different New Year, as do many other cultures I'm sure. (I'm too lazy to look it all up. If you care, google it!)

But I do wonder how January, the two-faced month, (named after Janus, the god facing in two directions) will unfold. I have traveling to do, and surgery to undergo, and a bit of a planned confronting of my partner in ministry to initiate. Well, not a confrontation as such; the opening of an issue that needs resolving in his life before he gets another permanent partner. I'm the one person who can raise the issue…so by the end of the month it will be on the table. As for the remainder of 2013, it will unfold as it will. Global warming will worsen, the plight of democratic government in Canada will also worsen as our current government turns us slowly into an oligarchy, while we plan trips to Mexico and ignore the whole thing.

Through my cynical lenses I pray that there are some principled idealists and determined democrats who can lead the rest of us into open revolt against the smug stateliness that has overcome or PM. I will cheer and contribute, but someone younger, smarter and more energetic will have to lead.

In the meantime, a "Guid New Year t'ye" any and all readers of these lines. Sing  Auld Lang Syne once at least, and lift a glass of something to welcome 2013.

Christmas arriving…

It's the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and I am putting in time before going off to Lacombe to lead the early Christmas Eve Service at St. Andrews. Two families are doing the bulk of the reading, and the Junior Choir is singing, so it's light for me. But I'm extremely nervous! I've figured out that this is  because I have so little control over the evening. Once things are under way, I get to sit and watch! Probably very good for me, but new, and different.

Christmas Eve brought us more horror, with the shooting of four firefighters in a town near Rochester New York. They had apparently been "lured" by a fire to the scene. Two killed, two critically wounded. The gun demons are afoot tonight, for sure. Echoes of the Christmas story with Herod's plotting to kill the newborn "king of the Jews." Evil always has a foot, or more, in the door.

You know it's Christmas when even Tim Horton's will be closed tonight and all day tomorrow. Walking past in the dark tomorrow morning and seeing it all dark will be a new experience for me. It's about half way on my 4 km walk, and is sort of a beacon of light in the dark world of 5:30 AM.

What Christmas thoughts do I think on a day like this? The insanity of God, in a way, for invading the human world in a baby, the most vulnerable of the vulnerable. And yet, it worked then. It's hard for me to see it working now, with so much violence in our world. I suppose that's the genius of the Ultimate Spirit, the Creator of All: to come in under the radar, in a form that melts even the hardest of hearts most of the time. Who can ignore an infant? Who can not smile at the squeals and twitches of new arms and lungs? It isn't without careful thought that the author of the Carols and Lessons Service for Families that we are using tonight has one of the Wise Men be a twelve year old girl!

The Santa Claus story puts it another way: the Great Gift Bringer is an old man. Hale and hearty in the story, but old, an elder, not a warrior, but a charmer who wins hearts with that smile and laugh. I saw a news item on St. Nicholas' Day in Holland, with the old bishop arriving by boat, with Black Peter close behind. Closer to the origins of the Santa myth, and closer to the religious and spiritual roots of the tale that is all "consumerism" today.

I wish I had more profound thoughts this afternoon. I feel like I should have. Just back from Tim Horton's, where many of the regulars were there, including some old and lonely folks who will have nowhere to go tomorrow. Perhaps they'll end up at the community dinner where Beatrix and I are working for the day. A different Christmas for us, one we've itching for over a number of years.

I look forward to year end, and year beginning, which will bring changes for me, and hopefully, a restoration of urological health! Some hard decisions to be involved in, and some renewal to share, I hope. May your Christmas celebration or feast be happy and blessed, and may your entry into 2013 be filled with hope and peace. Ciao!

Bang, bang, your kids are dead!

This has been a terrible weekend in the life of the USA, and in the lives of all of us in the first world. A young man marched into a K to 9 school in Newtown, Connecticut, and shot 20 children, aged 5 to 7, along with 6 adults - some of them trying to protect the kids, his mother, a substitute teacher, and ultimately, himself. The media, of course, has covered this story like a blanket, and given the victims families no peace.

President Obama gave a heartfelt and moving condolence speech, close to tears himself as a father with children in school. "We must see that something like this never happens again in America." But, of course, it will happen again. It will happen again in weeks or in months, because the USA is a gun culture. The second amendment to the US Constitution gives every citizen the right to bear arms, although how that covers automatic assault rifles, I don't understand.

there have been nineteen such events in the last decade or so, and still the gun lobby keeps expanding its influence, so that now, in the State of Illinois, people have the right to pack a weapon even in school! The State of Connecticut is home to three or four of the largest weapons manufacturers in the world. The second largest association of gun owners in the country has its home in Newtown, Connecticut! IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN!

It will keep happening regularly until some laws are changed in that country, until the control of personal and impersonal weapons becomes real and stringent. There is no use in praying for a change; it must be legislated by men and women with the guts to stand up and do it.

We have more stringent gun control in Canada, although guns can still be had if you know how. God forbid that our laws loosen; God help the Americans who want the shooting to stop, but who will not stand against the gun lobby. It's them I pray for: get a spine; say no!