I really wasnt looking forward to this one. A visit to a knife-happy surgeon who thought he should remove the chemo-induced growths in unmentionable places of my deliacte anatomy.
Just when I thoiught I had claimed a bit of dignity back, the 'pre surgery ' procedure just reinforced that cancer patients, no matter who they are, are stripped of any dignity at all. The discomfort was there tro remind us that its not over till its over, as they say.
after a few Hmmms and Ahhhs, which seemed to take forever. he (thank goodness it was a he!) gave me the options.Surgery is possible, but the radiation of last year has left the surrounding tissue pretty well irrepairable, and it may take months of repeat visits for skin grafts, and removing fresh growths (they cant guarantee trhey'll get them all!).
the other alternative is using a very powerful medication, which stings like crazy, works in most cases, and is not funded by Pharmac, and its horrendously expensive!
He's exporing avenues where funding MIGHT apply, and Ihe seems to think I have a good chance at it, but no guarantees!
So there we go - 4 months application of stuff i'm going to have to be a contortionist to apply, and guaranteed pain at every application (which he said, grinning, that you do get used to. Thanks for nothing!
So it looks asthough i'll be doing a lot more standing, lot less sitting from here on in!
No one said the journey would be easy, or short, but despite all the downsides, I'm not walking it alone.
That continues to give me hope. And hope is what helps us face the future, with al the possibilities and challenges that very new day brings. Great, huh?
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
A different kind of cancer
You don't know Max. I've been visiting Max for nearly a year now. Once a month, sometimes more often, certainly in the past few weeks. Max contacted us - he was about to be paroled from Paremoremo, and he was looking for someone, ideally from a church. to connect with to help him when he 'left the pen'. You see, he didn't want to go back to his old haunts, get in with the old crowd, because he knew that would only end one way - back to prison. He didn't want that.
So I called in to see him, a number of times. Went to the inmates 'family days' and witnessed the sad sight of the dysfunctional trying to help the criminal. Went to the parole hearings, where overworked and often disinterested judges ticked the boxes, or, in one case, were downright hostile. But most of all, I listened to Max's story. Depressingly familiar. Son of a low socio family in heartland NZ, alcoholic father who was rarely there, and when he was, made life hell for the family. A mum who drifted from man to man, all of them leeches who certainly didn't want her kids around. Max dropped out of school, got in with the wrong crowd (surprise, surprise) and became a victim of the most common, most available, socially acceptable drug - alcohol.
For 8 years, from the age of 19, he was in and out out prison for a variety of low level convictions. Burglary, car conversion, receiving - you name it. Then one night, after a bender and totally drunk, he sexually assaulted a young girl. It was admittedly low-level, but in the eyes of the law, serious enough for a 4 year sentence.
During his time in prison, Max had time to relfect on his life, and, with the help of some excellent counsellors
made some hard calls. He was going to give up drinking (for good), he was not going back to his 'old crowd' and he desperately wanted a second chance to redeem himself and become in his words, someone who 'earned respect, man'.
So he made a brave call. He contacted a church in the area, Our church. I picked it up by default, and began to visit him. What a combo! A senior, middle class white guy who seen most of his best days (and making the most of the days he has!) and a nervous 30 year old going on 19, severely lacking in social skills, yet yearning for someone to reach out and help. I was struck with his positive attitude, his naive enthusiasm, and his willingness to let others into his life who could make a positive contribution. He showed hidden talents - his building skill and home mechanics were well above average, and he was breaking out of his skin to get a job, work hard and make an honest days living.
Max was paroled in early August. Hes now living in the city, close to every temptation you could possible imagine. His parole officer has already changed 3 times - they're typically overworked and only interested in ticking the boxes (or as Max would say, covering their butts). Max has had visits, and has been to visit, members of the family, but is aware of the gulf that now exits between his old life, and what he wants his life to be. We're trying hard to find him a new place to live, find him a job, integrate him with people who care, rather than those who will take advantage of him, and lead him back into the comfort of what he was familiar with. Hes even had the courage to go to a local city church, where he really enjoyed the music and 'felt good' - hes quite a dab hand on the guitar as well! But very few folk talked to him, or made him feel welcome.
All he wants is people to give him a hand up, not a hand out. Guys who will give him a call, take him out for a meal, a coffee, a chat. Maybe a drive around the city. Some advice on budgetting, planning for the future. Guys he can depend on. There are no brownie points here, no gold stars, no thanks from the authorities. Indeed, people may even wonder what on earth you're doing. helping a low-life like that.
Its called second chances, and everyone deserves one.
Even Max. Especially Max.
Churches are great at mission statements, prayer meetings and worship. But when it comes to walking the walk, sometimes we're seriously found wanting. Things that extend us, take us out of our comfort zone, call for a commitment of our time (and money) we dismiss and, like the Levite, cross to the other side of the road. Its not our business!
Well, actually it is. Matthew 25, v35-40 reminds us of that. I'd love your help.And Max would REALLY love your friendship. You don't need a counselling or theological degree. Just a heart, and the ability to listen. And guess what? You'll be blessed as well, knowing youre making a difference.
(Max is not his real name - I've change it to preserve his privacy.)
So I called in to see him, a number of times. Went to the inmates 'family days' and witnessed the sad sight of the dysfunctional trying to help the criminal. Went to the parole hearings, where overworked and often disinterested judges ticked the boxes, or, in one case, were downright hostile. But most of all, I listened to Max's story. Depressingly familiar. Son of a low socio family in heartland NZ, alcoholic father who was rarely there, and when he was, made life hell for the family. A mum who drifted from man to man, all of them leeches who certainly didn't want her kids around. Max dropped out of school, got in with the wrong crowd (surprise, surprise) and became a victim of the most common, most available, socially acceptable drug - alcohol.
For 8 years, from the age of 19, he was in and out out prison for a variety of low level convictions. Burglary, car conversion, receiving - you name it. Then one night, after a bender and totally drunk, he sexually assaulted a young girl. It was admittedly low-level, but in the eyes of the law, serious enough for a 4 year sentence.
During his time in prison, Max had time to relfect on his life, and, with the help of some excellent counsellors
made some hard calls. He was going to give up drinking (for good), he was not going back to his 'old crowd' and he desperately wanted a second chance to redeem himself and become in his words, someone who 'earned respect, man'.
So he made a brave call. He contacted a church in the area, Our church. I picked it up by default, and began to visit him. What a combo! A senior, middle class white guy who seen most of his best days (and making the most of the days he has!) and a nervous 30 year old going on 19, severely lacking in social skills, yet yearning for someone to reach out and help. I was struck with his positive attitude, his naive enthusiasm, and his willingness to let others into his life who could make a positive contribution. He showed hidden talents - his building skill and home mechanics were well above average, and he was breaking out of his skin to get a job, work hard and make an honest days living.
Max was paroled in early August. Hes now living in the city, close to every temptation you could possible imagine. His parole officer has already changed 3 times - they're typically overworked and only interested in ticking the boxes (or as Max would say, covering their butts). Max has had visits, and has been to visit, members of the family, but is aware of the gulf that now exits between his old life, and what he wants his life to be. We're trying hard to find him a new place to live, find him a job, integrate him with people who care, rather than those who will take advantage of him, and lead him back into the comfort of what he was familiar with. Hes even had the courage to go to a local city church, where he really enjoyed the music and 'felt good' - hes quite a dab hand on the guitar as well! But very few folk talked to him, or made him feel welcome.
All he wants is people to give him a hand up, not a hand out. Guys who will give him a call, take him out for a meal, a coffee, a chat. Maybe a drive around the city. Some advice on budgetting, planning for the future. Guys he can depend on. There are no brownie points here, no gold stars, no thanks from the authorities. Indeed, people may even wonder what on earth you're doing. helping a low-life like that.
Its called second chances, and everyone deserves one.
Even Max. Especially Max.
Churches are great at mission statements, prayer meetings and worship. But when it comes to walking the walk, sometimes we're seriously found wanting. Things that extend us, take us out of our comfort zone, call for a commitment of our time (and money) we dismiss and, like the Levite, cross to the other side of the road. Its not our business!
Well, actually it is. Matthew 25, v35-40 reminds us of that. I'd love your help.And Max would REALLY love your friendship. You don't need a counselling or theological degree. Just a heart, and the ability to listen. And guess what? You'll be blessed as well, knowing youre making a difference.
(Max is not his real name - I've change it to preserve his privacy.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)