Wednesday, 31 May 2017
DAILY DIARY - World Vision matters
It is entirely inconceivable that at this particular time I should make myself available to be sponsored for the 40 hour famine. In more recent efforts I have done a technology famine. That's too easy now after being off FB for 40 days at Lent. And me in my enthusiasm decided 40 hours of having my feet up after my surgery would do the trick. That won't work. Our beloved North Shore Hospital has postponed the surgery by a week, meaning I will be in a very comfortable pre-op phase over the famine weekend.
So about the PORTAL. My beloved medical team, yes where my best doctor works who probably thought I self-diagnosed my skin cancer using Dr Google or Mr Bing, keep inviting us to sign up for the PORTAL. Initially resisting for a few years on account of fears of being beamed up to some permanent zone of automated intravenous living, I succumbed the other day. Like surrendering to a persistent salesperson I scribbled my signature and exited the building. By the time i was in the car, my Japanese chariot you recall who was mercilessly attacked by a security gate at home group, the email confirmation beeped into life on my smartie phone. I was about to leap into the PORTAL.
As an aside, on my first visit to a locum to try to figure out why I was walking on one foot and one balloon, I also did the unthinkable. I stepped on the man's weighing device. With my eyes closed I said to my favourite locum, "don't tell me. Write it down. I know it's bad." Being a decent man, who of course used the result to motivate the "green prescription" we have already disblogged (discussed in bloggese), he remained tight lipped. I walked free from the consultation rooms in that sense.
So I leap into the portal. It proved useful to confirm that the trainee who had used me as a pincushion (remember me passing out in the blood chambers) had in fact discombobulated the blood (or some other similar word) and that half the tests had failed.
I leap into the PORTAL and behold - a revelation too ghastly to contemplate...
There, staring me in the face, are the terrible and frightful results of that stepping onto the human weighing device (I can't even mention its name, although the scale of shock should rather be imagined than actually measured), my WEIGHT - which screams out at me louder than that diabolical microphone on Sunday.
So about the 40 hour famine. What more can I say. If you haven't yet donated something, look on my FB page for the link. Just do it. No tech famine, and no 40 hours of post-op bedrest.
Real famine. Anything to mitigate the trauma, the abject horror, of entering the PORTAL.... I have to be beamed back to October 2016, like a computer being taken back to a restore point. At least then I could read the scales...
Tuesday, 30 May 2017
DAILY DIARY - "The attack"
Have you missed me? Dear diary, I've been so in-between... Okay I borrowed that line - structurally - from the Moody Blues... But it has been a more interesting couple of weeks. No gates attacking me. They say of course that the devil has a go at you from the organist's stool. Not so these days. It's technology that will break you down, or grind you to an emotional pulp. Let me tell you how that worked this week....
It's all about my left leg. Funny thing really, because the radiographer asked me today whether I had had problems with it before. No, I say - only the right leg. Three times. She prods at my veins on the left appendage and explores further the history of the right one. "O just a few breaks" I say. "And a knee that need a scope and what have you." I avoid the silly things I did that got me plastered three times (my leg in a cast, I hasten to clarify).
So the left leg also needs surgery to get rid of a BCC. Whether there is one or not is the other debate at the doctor's rooms today. The mole man didn't write a letter to the doc to tell him what the biopsy found. Of course the terms are confusing. "Have you had your autopsy yet?" is probably the wrong question. Reminds me of the old lady years back who rejoiced one Sunday that her grandchild had been born despite complications on account of the biblical cord being around the poor child's neck. The congregation also rejoiced in this victory...
Anyway once the doctor got the letter he agreed it was a BCC. No this is not an email client's secret carbon copy option, but a common form of skin cancer. Which was to be removed. Until the hospital postponed that by a week. Which is okay really when you consider the rest of the left leg. Of course I'm left wondering whether I imagined the whole thing. But I am glad the doctor believes me now.
Sorry diary. you're probably confused. Me too. Back to the ultrasound lady today. The left leg, BCC issues aside, is being investigated for DVTs. Love the code. I hasten to add none was found. The swelling of the ankle and leg remains an inconvenience and a literal pain. But that's where I started. About the technology. Come with me to Sunday morning...
This left leg has been a problem for ages. The left always is… Just have a listen to the average labour party leader… So, I decide I will do the Jesus thing. I’m going to sit and preach. Teach. Speak. Tell stories… Having explored a literal interpretation of the idea – lake, boat, speak…. Mountain, crowds, speak… I go for a stool up front with the lectern removed. Yes, that means throw away the notes. They call it “The Rev unplugged”. So, off I go.
The plan was to rest the left leg. But who, dear diary, sticks his diabolical proddy fork into the mix? The demon of technology! Again. When I sit, the radio microphone shrieks. When I stand – all is well. So that was that. No Jesus’ teaching methodology. No romantic notion of boats and mountainsides. Just me wandering around telling the story of the day. Which is about the anxieties of the age. Oh read it, do. On paper anyway. The stories I told kept us going past the hour. And that left leg just had to deal with it. Swell, the Americans might say. Swell it did.
I won’t bore you with the speaker that distorted. And how I switched it off. It’s on the left of the church too. And what is was like to play the piano with the radio mike transmitter balanced on the left – probably on three very lonely keys which I expertly avoided. Why? Because when it was in my jacket pocket it SCREAMED AT ME. Say no more...
So now the new week of new medication begins. I’m reading that peripheral edema can be caused by one of the other medications I take. Don’t go there today, I tell myself. Take the spill pill. Limit sodium intake. I will resist munching on sodium biscuits for a while then. And then we will run some more tests – in the auditorium I mean. We will sort out the shrieking microphone. On Friday. Sunday of course – anything is possible…
It's all about my left leg. Funny thing really, because the radiographer asked me today whether I had had problems with it before. No, I say - only the right leg. Three times. She prods at my veins on the left appendage and explores further the history of the right one. "O just a few breaks" I say. "And a knee that need a scope and what have you." I avoid the silly things I did that got me plastered three times (my leg in a cast, I hasten to clarify).
So the left leg also needs surgery to get rid of a BCC. Whether there is one or not is the other debate at the doctor's rooms today. The mole man didn't write a letter to the doc to tell him what the biopsy found. Of course the terms are confusing. "Have you had your autopsy yet?" is probably the wrong question. Reminds me of the old lady years back who rejoiced one Sunday that her grandchild had been born despite complications on account of the biblical cord being around the poor child's neck. The congregation also rejoiced in this victory...
Anyway once the doctor got the letter he agreed it was a BCC. No this is not an email client's secret carbon copy option, but a common form of skin cancer. Which was to be removed. Until the hospital postponed that by a week. Which is okay really when you consider the rest of the left leg. Of course I'm left wondering whether I imagined the whole thing. But I am glad the doctor believes me now.
Sorry diary. you're probably confused. Me too. Back to the ultrasound lady today. The left leg, BCC issues aside, is being investigated for DVTs. Love the code. I hasten to add none was found. The swelling of the ankle and leg remains an inconvenience and a literal pain. But that's where I started. About the technology. Come with me to Sunday morning...
This left leg has been a problem for ages. The left always is… Just have a listen to the average labour party leader… So, I decide I will do the Jesus thing. I’m going to sit and preach. Teach. Speak. Tell stories… Having explored a literal interpretation of the idea – lake, boat, speak…. Mountain, crowds, speak… I go for a stool up front with the lectern removed. Yes, that means throw away the notes. They call it “The Rev unplugged”. So, off I go.
The plan was to rest the left leg. But who, dear diary, sticks his diabolical proddy fork into the mix? The demon of technology! Again. When I sit, the radio microphone shrieks. When I stand – all is well. So that was that. No Jesus’ teaching methodology. No romantic notion of boats and mountainsides. Just me wandering around telling the story of the day. Which is about the anxieties of the age. Oh read it, do. On paper anyway. The stories I told kept us going past the hour. And that left leg just had to deal with it. Swell, the Americans might say. Swell it did.
I won’t bore you with the speaker that distorted. And how I switched it off. It’s on the left of the church too. And what is was like to play the piano with the radio mike transmitter balanced on the left – probably on three very lonely keys which I expertly avoided. Why? Because when it was in my jacket pocket it SCREAMED AT ME. Say no more...
So now the new week of new medication begins. I’m reading that peripheral edema can be caused by one of the other medications I take. Don’t go there today, I tell myself. Take the spill pill. Limit sodium intake. I will resist munching on sodium biscuits for a while then. And then we will run some more tests – in the auditorium I mean. We will sort out the shrieking microphone. On Friday. Sunday of course – anything is possible…
Tuesday, 16 May 2017
The gates of hell
So we go to home group. It's not complicated. It's a group that meets at a home. We go weekly. And for some time this set of gates looks at us. Don't you love the signs that shout out loud? KEEP OUT and DANGER come to mind. Boundaries are set. Spaces defined. Limitations spelt out. Building sites are dangerous ominous unpredictable inexplicable despicable places. Remember them as a child? No fences or barriers then - and the curious smell of soil unearthed and cement and stone setting, sitting in piles, and the mystery of unplastered walls and planks you could walk over leading to out-of-bounds locations.
The gates of hell will never prevail. Not this gate - on this date. With a smash and a crash the boundary-setting warning-exuding contraption leaps out and deposits itself on my 8 year old Japanese-born baby. For no rhyme or reason it remodels my innocent chariot in an act of metallic gravitational defiance by which the collection of signs keeping us out became a statement of inclusion and welcome.
Any observant person wandering down the drive could have gleefully gapped it. The gate, having relocated itself in an act of tyrannical ballistic warfare that would have caused Kim whatshisname's gleaming generals to clap and cheer in harmonious and orchestrated delight, opened doors to this terrifying place of creation and dubious design.
Go straight to State, they said. State insurance, For those new to these wobbly islands at the ends of the earth.You've seen the adverts. "Ain't nothing gonna break my stride." What they can't sort is astounding and quite remarkable by all accounts. Perhaps it was the advert that got the gate going. Every possible scenario is portrayed as they boast of the power of their corporate protection. No, as the consultant correctly points out, there were no flying gates in the advert. Most unusual, says she. Gates do not prevail. Not even from hell. I try to explain it was at home group. That doesn't work.
But the Japanese chariot can be restored to its former shape and finish at a panel-replacer of my choice from their pre-selected preferred providers. What excess? is my short question. Surely the gate is to be held responsible? No - they will attempt to retrieve my precious dollars after the fact. It's a no-blame society, is it not? People have their personal gate- attacks. Not a good idea to blame the gate. What if an earthquake quakes? Gates and fences will have their day in good time. This is an aberration. Most unusual.Reflect on that, reverend. And I do. Deeply and widely, as the old song goes.
Upon reflection then, I conclude that I am proud to be chosen to be the one who kept out of the danger zone - who obeyed the signs - who consulted the writing on the wall - who read the notice board. I knew it said danger. I should have known better.
But that gate clearly chose me to be the first. And next month when my leg is finally fixed and I can't race around in my Japanese chariot anyway - when they finally cut this crafty carcinoma from my caving calf muscle, and steal skin to seal the deal, forcing me to walk around with my leg in the air again, all evidence of that gate's grumpy jumpy autumn night in April will be expunged from the record.We'll both be in a body shop. Chop. Chop. Chop...
The gates of hell will never prevail. Not this gate - on this date. With a smash and a crash the boundary-setting warning-exuding contraption leaps out and deposits itself on my 8 year old Japanese-born baby. For no rhyme or reason it remodels my innocent chariot in an act of metallic gravitational defiance by which the collection of signs keeping us out became a statement of inclusion and welcome.
Any observant person wandering down the drive could have gleefully gapped it. The gate, having relocated itself in an act of tyrannical ballistic warfare that would have caused Kim whatshisname's gleaming generals to clap and cheer in harmonious and orchestrated delight, opened doors to this terrifying place of creation and dubious design.
Go straight to State, they said. State insurance, For those new to these wobbly islands at the ends of the earth.You've seen the adverts. "Ain't nothing gonna break my stride." What they can't sort is astounding and quite remarkable by all accounts. Perhaps it was the advert that got the gate going. Every possible scenario is portrayed as they boast of the power of their corporate protection. No, as the consultant correctly points out, there were no flying gates in the advert. Most unusual, says she. Gates do not prevail. Not even from hell. I try to explain it was at home group. That doesn't work.
But the Japanese chariot can be restored to its former shape and finish at a panel-replacer of my choice from their pre-selected preferred providers. What excess? is my short question. Surely the gate is to be held responsible? No - they will attempt to retrieve my precious dollars after the fact. It's a no-blame society, is it not? People have their personal gate- attacks. Not a good idea to blame the gate. What if an earthquake quakes? Gates and fences will have their day in good time. This is an aberration. Most unusual.Reflect on that, reverend. And I do. Deeply and widely, as the old song goes.
Upon reflection then, I conclude that I am proud to be chosen to be the one who kept out of the danger zone - who obeyed the signs - who consulted the writing on the wall - who read the notice board. I knew it said danger. I should have known better.
But that gate clearly chose me to be the first. And next month when my leg is finally fixed and I can't race around in my Japanese chariot anyway - when they finally cut this crafty carcinoma from my caving calf muscle, and steal skin to seal the deal, forcing me to walk around with my leg in the air again, all evidence of that gate's grumpy jumpy autumn night in April will be expunged from the record.We'll both be in a body shop. Chop. Chop. Chop...
Monday, 15 May 2017
Titanium or Aloominim...
Should have gone to Specsavers...
That's what we say when people don't get it. Or see it. Or if they persistently mess things up through lack of vision. For the second Monday in a row I did. Go to Specsavers. It was very early and the shopping centre was barely awake. I was concerned that no one else had arrived for their appointments. Late. Cancelled. And me. One has to wonder if the optometrist would be able to see anything at that hour. I've been wondering about automatic cars, more efficient robots, and whether there would be any jobs left in the future. My fears were semi-allayed when the lady told me where to rest my chin. The rest, as they say, is history. The machine woke up and moved ominously into position, whirling and wheezing and whining as they do, until it peered into my eye with more excruciating robotic groans and after the human assistant directed me to gaze with expectation at another green light in the tunnel ahead, FLASH - it took a selfie - of my eye. And of course its sister whizzed into action with assessments, puffs, and various pants to complete the assessment that I had arrived at my appointment.
Having faced the real optometrist who seemed awfully young to operate her set of amazing robots, and who made ME decide how far I would actually hold my mobile phone, tablet, device and perhaps a real book. the spell was cast and a new prescription prescribed.
Cue Daisy. Breaking into song I began that old war time favourite- " Daisy Daisy, give me your answer do.." and in a flash another pile of frames shaped my destiny, and ultimately my chubby cheeks, Sorry folks - all those who LOVED my brightly coloured preselected plastic frames, Daisy who was a whiz at these things proceeded to introduce me to the FLEXIFRAME. Behold - bend these every which way but where they should have been, and behold - they spring back into shape.
Having been weighed and found wanting in the doctor's rooms, and knowing what a spectacle one can make of oneself when one sits on the things, the next decision was simple. Titanium or Aloominim. Bye bye plastic. At that price one goes for the light weight super flexible non-corrosive virtually unbreakable metal that feels like an extended paper clip with hinges.
So there we are. Should have gone to Specsavers went.
And that was Monday before 11.00am.
The rest of the day is far from funny, in case you were hoping for a bucket of laughs. O yes there were amazing moments. Like the re-appearance of the 2 dollar shop in new red colours, where actually, everything is actually two dollars (unless otherwise indicated). With joyful abandon I purchased three NO PARKING SIGNS which will be gleefully attached through double sided tape to specifically targeted areas where no maniac in a too long or red car would ever dare to park.
The curry lady, with a broad smile from the depths of the Indus river valley delta, again put too much curry on our plate, because we love her cooking as she feels immense and deep compassion for these untouchables who have to share a meal. The coffee we shared amazingly came with two Bavarian creme donuts. It helps to buy coffee from the Donut place. And Millers miraculously had the perfect jumper (aka jersey) for the ever-vigilant Mrs P.
My friend David from Dils spent a long time while we were having this blast of success solving the challenges of the day so that we could move forward with the double funeral on Thursday. More later about the fact that this couple who have died a few days apart lived up the road from us.
The DAILY DAIRY - out, Peace. A robot will NEVER NEVER NEVER write this blog... Yet.
That's what we say when people don't get it. Or see it. Or if they persistently mess things up through lack of vision. For the second Monday in a row I did. Go to Specsavers. It was very early and the shopping centre was barely awake. I was concerned that no one else had arrived for their appointments. Late. Cancelled. And me. One has to wonder if the optometrist would be able to see anything at that hour. I've been wondering about automatic cars, more efficient robots, and whether there would be any jobs left in the future. My fears were semi-allayed when the lady told me where to rest my chin. The rest, as they say, is history. The machine woke up and moved ominously into position, whirling and wheezing and whining as they do, until it peered into my eye with more excruciating robotic groans and after the human assistant directed me to gaze with expectation at another green light in the tunnel ahead, FLASH - it took a selfie - of my eye. And of course its sister whizzed into action with assessments, puffs, and various pants to complete the assessment that I had arrived at my appointment.
Having faced the real optometrist who seemed awfully young to operate her set of amazing robots, and who made ME decide how far I would actually hold my mobile phone, tablet, device and perhaps a real book. the spell was cast and a new prescription prescribed.
Cue Daisy. Breaking into song I began that old war time favourite- " Daisy Daisy, give me your answer do.." and in a flash another pile of frames shaped my destiny, and ultimately my chubby cheeks, Sorry folks - all those who LOVED my brightly coloured preselected plastic frames, Daisy who was a whiz at these things proceeded to introduce me to the FLEXIFRAME. Behold - bend these every which way but where they should have been, and behold - they spring back into shape.
Having been weighed and found wanting in the doctor's rooms, and knowing what a spectacle one can make of oneself when one sits on the things, the next decision was simple. Titanium or Aloominim. Bye bye plastic. At that price one goes for the light weight super flexible non-corrosive virtually unbreakable metal that feels like an extended paper clip with hinges.
So there we are. Should have gone to Specsavers went.
And that was Monday before 11.00am.
The rest of the day is far from funny, in case you were hoping for a bucket of laughs. O yes there were amazing moments. Like the re-appearance of the 2 dollar shop in new red colours, where actually, everything is actually two dollars (unless otherwise indicated). With joyful abandon I purchased three NO PARKING SIGNS which will be gleefully attached through double sided tape to specifically targeted areas where no maniac in a too long or red car would ever dare to park.
The curry lady, with a broad smile from the depths of the Indus river valley delta, again put too much curry on our plate, because we love her cooking as she feels immense and deep compassion for these untouchables who have to share a meal. The coffee we shared amazingly came with two Bavarian creme donuts. It helps to buy coffee from the Donut place. And Millers miraculously had the perfect jumper (aka jersey) for the ever-vigilant Mrs P.
My friend David from Dils spent a long time while we were having this blast of success solving the challenges of the day so that we could move forward with the double funeral on Thursday. More later about the fact that this couple who have died a few days apart lived up the road from us.
The DAILY DAIRY - out, Peace. A robot will NEVER NEVER NEVER write this blog... Yet.
Sunday, 14 May 2017
A Sunday Diary Post - or reflections on the first day of the week
DAILY DIARY.
Last week being so hectic I thought I should do a daily dairy again. Okay I am one day late already. SUNDAY was a blessing. It had some interesting moments. Like only one guitarist out of three arriving. And his guitar refused to tune itself. A second did arrive, and a new person on the sound desk who actually is a sound engineer. That worked. And there were people there who didn’t run off for mothers’ day parties.
For years we have had a notice on the screen suggesting people be quiet as they prepare for worship. That didn’t work. Sunday - the new one says; “We’ve tried to get you to be quiet before church. That didn’t work. So enjoy yourself as you prepare together” – or words to that effect. There were people who found that funny. The message worked. You can read it at bbpsermons. And the song which I had not sung for more than 30 years. A wonderful morning really. Praying that there will be fruit.
At home the phone rang – Specsavers reminding me I have an appointment Monday. (Did they read about me forgetting the concert last week?). We did remember that the car was about to run out of petrol. On that trip noticed that someone had almost destroyed the neighbour’s fence at church. That’s why the signs say - “park front in only” so as not to reverse into the fence again (which has been replaced at considerable cost). So I interrupt the tea-time and ask the three people who ignored the signs to sort it out. The lady with the very long car realizes the problem. The others are indifferent. The man with the red car starts debating the sign. I explain we ask all to conform as eventually someone will forget and bash the fence. He says his car is small and has reverse lights. I ask him if he argues with the police about the rules. That didn’t work. Suggest if he doesn’t like the rules he park on the street. He does. (Prof Alfie Rooks always said people in red cars were dangerous. Until I arrived one day in my orange car. He stopped saying that.) Of course the lady with two dogs in the car parked in the “No Parking” place (blocking access for us) seemed to think that the rules don’t apply on Sundays. I got her to move into the vacated place of the previously almost-bashing-down-the-fence car. Front in first. Her dogs did not complain that the view wasn’t as nice. She did not argue. Much.
Decided I should never drive past the church on Sunday afternoons. Went back to the garage to use the almost-expired half-price car wash ticket. After seeing real soap on the car decided that the previous car wash had failed. Explained to the man that last time I had not got my money’s worth. He says I should say so on the day. I say – how do I know what is not working unless I see when it does work? Like the soap in abundance today. He gives me a free voucher – probably to get rid of me.
So mothers’ day is in the midst of all this. One son buys lunch. The other arrives for dinner and a jolly time is had by all. I am rejoicing that I have found new shoes to replace the ones my eldest “borrowed” last time for work. So he says last night: “have you got some shoes for me so I can go straight to work” etc. Much hilarity. They have no idea why I am laughing my head off at dinner. I clean the shoes and of course they fit him. Again. Mind you my new ones are a better shape – which relates to the reason why I had those aborted blood tests – my swollen foot. I will be able to see the blood test results today on the fancy portal. Before the doctor. Not that I will have a clue what they mean.
What a wonderful day. It’s Monday today. I’ve listened to dear friends and what tough weekends they have had. How easy my life is. I won’t forget the appointment. And I will update you as we go along. Did I tell you I have two funerals on Thursday? Husband and wife. Please pray for the family. More later. Here endeth the daily diary…. Not a sacred diary. Just mine… Sunday done.
Last week being so hectic I thought I should do a daily dairy again. Okay I am one day late already. SUNDAY was a blessing. It had some interesting moments. Like only one guitarist out of three arriving. And his guitar refused to tune itself. A second did arrive, and a new person on the sound desk who actually is a sound engineer. That worked. And there were people there who didn’t run off for mothers’ day parties.
For years we have had a notice on the screen suggesting people be quiet as they prepare for worship. That didn’t work. Sunday - the new one says; “We’ve tried to get you to be quiet before church. That didn’t work. So enjoy yourself as you prepare together” – or words to that effect. There were people who found that funny. The message worked. You can read it at bbpsermons. And the song which I had not sung for more than 30 years. A wonderful morning really. Praying that there will be fruit.
At home the phone rang – Specsavers reminding me I have an appointment Monday. (Did they read about me forgetting the concert last week?). We did remember that the car was about to run out of petrol. On that trip noticed that someone had almost destroyed the neighbour’s fence at church. That’s why the signs say - “park front in only” so as not to reverse into the fence again (which has been replaced at considerable cost). So I interrupt the tea-time and ask the three people who ignored the signs to sort it out. The lady with the very long car realizes the problem. The others are indifferent. The man with the red car starts debating the sign. I explain we ask all to conform as eventually someone will forget and bash the fence. He says his car is small and has reverse lights. I ask him if he argues with the police about the rules. That didn’t work. Suggest if he doesn’t like the rules he park on the street. He does. (Prof Alfie Rooks always said people in red cars were dangerous. Until I arrived one day in my orange car. He stopped saying that.) Of course the lady with two dogs in the car parked in the “No Parking” place (blocking access for us) seemed to think that the rules don’t apply on Sundays. I got her to move into the vacated place of the previously almost-bashing-down-the-fence car. Front in first. Her dogs did not complain that the view wasn’t as nice. She did not argue. Much.
Decided I should never drive past the church on Sunday afternoons. Went back to the garage to use the almost-expired half-price car wash ticket. After seeing real soap on the car decided that the previous car wash had failed. Explained to the man that last time I had not got my money’s worth. He says I should say so on the day. I say – how do I know what is not working unless I see when it does work? Like the soap in abundance today. He gives me a free voucher – probably to get rid of me.
So mothers’ day is in the midst of all this. One son buys lunch. The other arrives for dinner and a jolly time is had by all. I am rejoicing that I have found new shoes to replace the ones my eldest “borrowed” last time for work. So he says last night: “have you got some shoes for me so I can go straight to work” etc. Much hilarity. They have no idea why I am laughing my head off at dinner. I clean the shoes and of course they fit him. Again. Mind you my new ones are a better shape – which relates to the reason why I had those aborted blood tests – my swollen foot. I will be able to see the blood test results today on the fancy portal. Before the doctor. Not that I will have a clue what they mean.
What a wonderful day. It’s Monday today. I’ve listened to dear friends and what tough weekends they have had. How easy my life is. I won’t forget the appointment. And I will update you as we go along. Did I tell you I have two funerals on Thursday? Husband and wife. Please pray for the family. More later. Here endeth the daily diary…. Not a sacred diary. Just mine… Sunday done.
A very busy week indeed...
So what kind of week has it been... no one will read this anyway so here goes... Sunday was great. best part was the chariot the kids made so Philip could run along side it on the spot as we explored the question - how far would you go to share God's love with others.... does it include taking up athletics? Ah well the rest was more like an interactive classroom discussion on baptism. I always say that monologues are boring as sermons anyway.
Monday - we forgot to go to a concert we had tickets for. Got to look at options for new specs. Should have gone to specsavers to notice the reminder about the concert.
Tuesday is a blur. Wednesday night home group I remember clearly.
Thursday was straight to the doctor then blood tests. That did not go well. Got a rookie who did something wrong. I passed out of course. For quite a while. Been a while since that happened. Gave me a shocking headache for the afternoon. And a Session meeting in the evening. The fish and chips before was good. Did not agree with me and the night was not great... Of course you've stopped reading now anyway. Friday morning the blood people phone first thing. The blood whatyoumacalled it. Fail. Had to give more blood today. Of course the head blood person was at hand. Mainly music came first. Helped lead a large crowd of kids and mums. Great songs. Blood drawn at lunch. A funeral arranged in between for next week. Took the best wife in the world out this afternoon as she is working tomorrow. Which means Sunday's sermon will be a Saturday final production. had a major debate at the Warehouse with the boss about the fact that the yellow sticker's special price was the same as the normal one for the shoes on the shelf. Not a very special offer. Became a determined consumer wanting an answer. He blamed the national pricing people. Friday ended with fish and chips. And no one is reading this anyway. Discovered I can check my blood tests on line but half of them failed because the blood had clotted... And I didn't faint this time.
And how was your week? An awful lot happened in between all this including a great time at Interserve on Wednesday and a various other gatherings. Inspired by missionaries working in various countries ending with stan that I can't pronounce.
And of course the doctor prescribed a green script. The green people are coming to get me. Watch this space.
Now you know why I am thinking about the week that was...
Yay! I remember we had church on Tuesday, and the local pastors' association meeting at lunch time. I went to the local Christian bookshop to fetch things ordered a couple of weeks ago. Then went with a lady in church who needed someone to go along to look a replacing her car... Tuesday church was a great time.... spoke on John 10:27-30...
Monday - we forgot to go to a concert we had tickets for. Got to look at options for new specs. Should have gone to specsavers to notice the reminder about the concert.
Tuesday is a blur. Wednesday night home group I remember clearly.
Thursday was straight to the doctor then blood tests. That did not go well. Got a rookie who did something wrong. I passed out of course. For quite a while. Been a while since that happened. Gave me a shocking headache for the afternoon. And a Session meeting in the evening. The fish and chips before was good. Did not agree with me and the night was not great... Of course you've stopped reading now anyway. Friday morning the blood people phone first thing. The blood whatyoumacalled it. Fail. Had to give more blood today. Of course the head blood person was at hand. Mainly music came first. Helped lead a large crowd of kids and mums. Great songs. Blood drawn at lunch. A funeral arranged in between for next week. Took the best wife in the world out this afternoon as she is working tomorrow. Which means Sunday's sermon will be a Saturday final production. had a major debate at the Warehouse with the boss about the fact that the yellow sticker's special price was the same as the normal one for the shoes on the shelf. Not a very special offer. Became a determined consumer wanting an answer. He blamed the national pricing people. Friday ended with fish and chips. And no one is reading this anyway. Discovered I can check my blood tests on line but half of them failed because the blood had clotted... And I didn't faint this time.
And how was your week? An awful lot happened in between all this including a great time at Interserve on Wednesday and a various other gatherings. Inspired by missionaries working in various countries ending with stan that I can't pronounce.
And of course the doctor prescribed a green script. The green people are coming to get me. Watch this space.
Now you know why I am thinking about the week that was...
Yay! I remember we had church on Tuesday, and the local pastors' association meeting at lunch time. I went to the local Christian bookshop to fetch things ordered a couple of weeks ago. Then went with a lady in church who needed someone to go along to look a replacing her car... Tuesday church was a great time.... spoke on John 10:27-30...
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