23rd April ‘The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge. Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’

 

23rd April ‘The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge. Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’

For seven years I was parish priest of a church dedicated to St George, and during every one of those seven years I would go on Radio Nottingham to tell the listeners all about our patron saint. Every year I would dread it. My only media appearance would consist of me debunking myths and pointing out humbug; not very edifying. I would attempt each year to ‘connect’ the legend with real life, and speak about the dragon being symbolic of the battles we all face at times.

This St George’s Day was not so much a battle as yet another wait. Although wrestling with silence and perceived inactivity is, I would now argue, a constant battle.

This wait was for a call from my surgeon. How much disembowelling was to happen, how much chemo, how much, how much, how much? True to his word, he rang at 11.30am. He explained that, as yet, they had no clear plan as I was an “oddity,” unusual, outside the scope of their testing ability.

“Hmmm,” I thought, how does one take that analysis? Therefore, they were sending my results to another specialist hospital which has the expertise they felt was required to produce the best treatment ‘roadmap’. He wanted me to go for an MRI scan in between time, and the hospital would be in touch. He apologised for what may feel like a longer wait.

I thanked him for his honesty, willingness to say he didn’t know, and for ringing when he said he would. All that was true, but so, too, was the intense feeling of ‘I want these things out!!!’ Shakespeare was right, ‘Such outward things dwell not in my desires.’