One Man and His Blog

Thanks for the supportive comments, prayers etc on both my blog and Tina’s following dad’s heart attack. When I went into work on Monday morning and told my team what had happened, they were really lovely and suggested I ask for some time off so I could go and see mum and dad sooner rather than waiting til the weekend. So I did, and the boss said yes, and I worked extra hard to get as much done as I could so I could take Thursday and Friday off.

Dad came out of hospital on Wednesday afternoon, and by the time I got to my parents’ on Thursday, some friends had helped pack up their caravan and towed it home for them. However, much of the caravan’s contents needed putting away in its proper place, or taking into the house or the garage, and this was largely my job, with supervision from dad (i.e. he gave me instructions and then moaned a bit when I got it wrong. No, actually, that’s a bit unfair; while dad’s a bit of a perfectionist and likes to have things done his way, he wasn’t too bad, and was clearly grateful that someone was around to do the things he shouldn’t be doing).

On Friday we went shopping, and as the doctor’s orders are for dad to lower his cholesterol, mum was taking a long time studying all the packets for fat content, saturates, sugars and the like. At one point mum and I were comparing the figures on two different types of dessert, and it struck me that it was like a rather surreal version of Top Trumps ("Saturated fats?" "44.6 grams." "Ha – 37.8 grams! I win! Hand over your trifle!"). Then I got to lug the shopping around, and before heading back on Saturday I helped to move some bits and pieces around the house and generally tidy up a bit.

I’m pleased to say dad’s doing very well, although his wanting-it-done-his-way attitude means that, even though he’s following his instructions and resting, he still wants to be involved in all the work (on Saturday morning their neighbour came round to mow the back garden for them, and dad stood out there chatting to him throughout, which also allowed him to keep an eye on the quality of the mowing, of course). But mainly he’s doing well, and having some physical and (particularly for mum) emotional support has been invaluable. He’ll have surgery in about 4-6 weeks’ time, which should help sort things out further, and mum’s asked if I can go back and help out again then, so I’ll keep you posted.

And then there’s the adventure when I got back from church today… but I’ll save that for another time…

Last week was long and busy, and at the end of it I needed a bit of a lie-in. So yesterday morning I didn’t roll out of bed proper til about 11.45, which was lovely. Then I switched my phone on, and things were less lovely.

I had a voicemail from Tina asking me to ring her when I got the message. It had that sound of "not an emergency but kind of serious" in her voice. Then there was another voicemail from my mum telling me what had happened. Dad had had a heart attack, but it was comparatively minor and he was in hospital and doing OK.

After leaving a message on mum’s phone, I rang Tina back and told her that I’d heard the news, and she gave me a bit more information that she’d got from talking to mum. She and Spike were already on their way up to Cambridge to see the patient, and I asked Tina to give mum an extra big hug from me. I would have asked her to do the same for dad, but I figured there would probably be tubes and wires and equipment in the way and it might not be ideal.

Mum called me back a bit later and told me the whole story from the start. Dad had been complaining of pains in his chest and back on Friday, but he thought it was just indigestion. Then when he woke up on Saturday, he started to feel much more intense pain and asked mum to call for an ambulance. Three paramedics were there quickly and soon had him stable, and then he was taken to hospital and was sitting up eating his breakfast by 9.30. Mum was given a bowl of cornflakes too, since she hadn’t had breakfast in all the ensuing chaos.

The last update was last night; dad’s doing well, but is being kept in for observation and rest and all that for a few days. Mum had said I shouldn’t drop everything and head back this weekend to see him as it wasn’t that severe and she knows it’s not as convenient for me getting there from Birmingham as it is for Tina and Spike coming from London, but when I spoke to her last night it sounded like she was assuming I was coming to visit next weekend. As it happens, I had a much quieter weekend in prospect this weekend than next, but if they’re expecting me then I’m sure I’ll go anyway. A few weeks back, when I heard about Richard’s situation and the party being thrown in his honour, I rang mum straight away and she said that they had been planning to go away that weekend, but she’d talk to dad and see what he thought. Apparently the moment she put the phone down, dad turned to her and said, "we’ll cancel the weekend if Steve needs us; family comes first". And given how much dad’s put himself out for me over the years, I couldn’t really not go and see him just because it’s a little inconvenient.

I’m just glad that it wasn’t more serious, and that he’s already well on the way to recovery. Much as I don’t really miss the area I grew up in these days, I do miss my family, and it’s always at times like this that you realise just how much you value them.

Love you, dad.

Apologies for the lack of blogging since my new computer arrived. I’ve had a fairly busy week, and when I’ve not been busy I just haven’t known what to write, so I haven’t written anything.

Tonight I’m thinking about my cell group, the people in it, and the people I’ve left behind. You see, our cell group split a month ago; not in a falling-out kind of way, you understand, but in that the whole ethos behind the cell group structure is that when the group grows to a point where you feel it’s too big, then it’s time to split. And that’s the point we’ve reached over the last six months or so.

I’d been in my old cell ever since it started, at the beginning of 2004, just a couple of months after I pitched up here. In that time it has been small, large, noisy, quiet, uncontrolable, passionate, painful, inspiring, encouraging, challenging and, most often, pants-wettingly funny. Many people have come and gone, but the spirit of the group has never changed – loving and serving God, building each other up, and having good times of fellowship and study together.

Over the course of 2007, the group swelled in numbers; by the end of the year we had about 15 people coming regularly, and since the start of this year even more people have joined. Which not only makes it difficult for everyone to feel their contribution is acknowledged, but is also just physically inconvenient in a very small lounge (our hosts had started unscrewing the lounge door from its hinges each week, as the door opened into the room and it was difficult for people to get out if they needed to get a drink or go to the loo or whatever if there were people sitting in front of it because every other bit of space in the room was being used). So it was announced that cell would be "multiplying" (we’re not supposed to call it splitting, as that makes us sound like the Judean People’s Front) and that the intention was that about a third of us would go off into the new cell. We were all asked to think and pray about which group we felt we wanted to go in, and I knew straight away that God was leading me to the new group.

The first month has been really good, and I’ve loved having the chance to get to know my "new" cell (most of them being people I’ve been in my old cell with for two or three years already) a bit better. But I’ve realised that I’m missing getting to spend so much time with some of the people who have stayed in the old cell who I’ve built up strong friendships with over the last few years. Yes, sometimes we still meet up and hang out and see each other at social things, and of course at church itself, but it’s still been weird.

Now comes the other part of all this. Apart from the leaders of the old group, the only person who’s been there since it started (now that I’ve left) is my friend Pete. And in a few weeks’ time Pete is moving to London for work reasons too confusing to go into here. It’s definitely God’s will and we’re all very excited for him, and yet I feel like I’m missing him already. I’ve had many good times hanging out with Pete, and he’s given me lots of very wise and helpful advice when I’ve had issues to deal with. Not seeing him around will be very strange indeed.

And then I found out the other night that another friend from the old cell, Dave, is taking the opportunity to go to London in about a month’s time. Initially he’s planning to go for three months, and then depending on how things are going he’ll either stay there or come back here. I suspect the former, but from a really selfish point of view I kind of hope the latter. Dave’s honesty and openness are refreshing, and he’s one of the funniest and most easygoing people I know. But this is a great opportunity for him to pursue his dreams, and challenge himself, and I think he needs that. That won’t mean I won’t miss him though.

And so it goes. The new cell is coming together with the excitement of fresh growth; while old friends are moving on to pastures new, their own fresh growth. Things start, and things end. It’s like the circle of life.

Hakuna, and for that matter, matata.

I’ve had a few days off work.

On Thursday, I voted, and then in the evening I went bowling and had a curry with some of the lads from the youth group. Aside from that, I pretty much did nothing.
On Friday, I pretty much did nothing.
On Saturday, I pretty much did nothing.
On Sunday, I went to church in the morning and went to church in the evening, and inbetween pretty much did nothing.

Feeling that I’d kind of wasted my days off and my weekend, I decided I should do something today, even if it was something fairly minor like, say, going to the cinema. So I asked around some folks at church yesterday and had a little gang of people who said they might be interested. I arranged everything around what times most people were free and what film most people wanted to see.

It wasn’t until I was on the train, on my way to the cinema, that I realised nobody else was coming apart from me.

Now I don’t have a problem with going to see a film on my own, I’ve done it several times before and actually quite enjoy it. But by the time I got there this afternoon, I just wasn’t in the mood. Of the six people who might have been coming, one was busy writing an essay for their course, one was just back from a trip to London and too tired, one was seeing their friend off who’d been visiting over the weekend, one had been working today and needed to get some things done at home, one had decided not to come because they didn’t want to see the chosen film, and one had decided they would rather watch the snooker.

How rubbish.

So I spent some time umming and aahing about whether to go see the movie by myself or not, and eventually decided not to. So I wandered into town and quickly realised that, being a bank holiday, a lot of places were closed and the ones that were open were soon to close early. A bit bored, I figured I might as well come home; not fancying the walk from the train station, I got on a bus.

Then my friend K texted me to ask if there were any plans for after the movie, as she was free now. So I told her no one else had showed up and I was on my way home, and we hatched a plan to hang out and have a cup of tea. That then expanded into tea and Chinese takeaway and many laughs. It was nice because a little irrational part of my brain had been nagging at me earlier over the fact that no one had wanted to hang out with me (I know, most of the reasons given were perfectly adequate, though if I’m honest I’m a little pissed off at the snooker one), so it was really great to finish the weekend on a high note.

The other good thing about it was that it took my mind off tomorrow morning. In the three days I was at work last week, I worked my butt off to try to ensure everything that needed sorting out had been sorted out, and nothing had been missed. However, the last couple of times I’ve had a few days off, I’ve come back on my first morning to find my manager listing things that I’ve overlooked / not done / messed up etc, and I’m really hoping that this time I might actually have remembered everything and can go in and just pick up where I left off last week.

Also, before work tomorrow morning the holiday beard has to be removed. These days I tend to shave about two or three times a week, but since last Tuesday I haven’t really seen much point. Now I’m very itchy and keen to have a smooth face again. It may not sound like a big thing, but in my head it easily becomes one.

But let’s end on a positive – according to the five-day weather forecast, the rest of the week is going to be sunny and over 20 degrees. Enjoy it while you can – a week is about as much as we usually get for "British Summer Time".