27th May: 'That kiss is as comfortless as frozen water to a starved snake’, Shakespeare’s 'Titus Andronicus'

One of the privileges of my vocation is that I see the best and worst in people. Funerals usually distil these extremes into the social equivalent of neat alcohol. During my time as sommelier of the social meths, I have witnessed both family punch-ups and reconciliations. 

Since my diagnosis what has spoken to me more than anything else has been the overwhelming kindness of friends and acquaintances. 

The vicarage has at times resembled a concession stand for Interflora and Clintons. I cannot fully express what these acts of kindness have meant, but they have often transformed moments of deep pain and tension into light and joy, and they seem to come at the right time. 

Given my view on life, I see that as divine intervention; but others may happily live with neutral serendipity. Whatever the source or impetus, they are gratefully received--even the clumsy ones!

I said in my introduction to the blog that it would not be a self-help piece, but here are two pieces of advice which have helped me (note: 'me!') and us as a family.

1. Do ask after me, but be prepared for not getting an answer.

It is quite amazing how many people attempt to second guess what is best for you. They tie themselves in knots thinking "Should I disturb them?", "Should I not disturb them?".  We don't have to answer the phone. We reserve the right to say, "Now's not a good time". Yet what means most is someone asking and then being prepared to hear what we say. 

2. I honestly, really don't need to know, who has died from my condition.

This is a rare one, but always a thrill when it comes. There seems something wonderfully, unconsciously funny, about a person who—in an attempt to empathise—draws on an associated experience of death. Is this only a modern Western phenomenon where an electronic message can simultaneously kiss and punch? Yesterday, Sarah received one of these paradoxical verbal presents: “So sorry to hear what you're going through, it must be hard, I had a friend whose daughter died of that!!” Why don't you just put aside my Fortnum's Biscuits, my Betty's Tea Room Tea Cake, and give me a beautifully wrapped turd!

Of course, such incidents then re-enforce the social anxiety of Advice 1, but please, do, do number 1, and help me enjoy those number 2's.