Bearing Up

Having got quite a bit worse over the last few weeks - the saga is coming in a separate post - I've had occasion to reflect on how we cope with chronic illnesses and acute pain, and how others try to help. I don't wish to sound ungrateful, and I don't want to be mistaken for having a faint theology, but I strongly believe that a bit of compassion and awareness must be used when being pastoral towards the ill.

There's a lot of guilt associated with faith for a lot of people, I think, especially these days when there is such pressure (both in and outwith the church) to excel in certain areas as a sign of having a successful life and being a "together" person. I can't think of a time in history when society has had such an inaccurate self-image, being able to package and market itself regardless of reality. Accordingly, few of our Western societies really understand illness and death as it is hidden, and we are not exposed to its realities on a daily basis. 

Chronic illness can be a bit of a taboo in the church. I've always found faith and prayer to be a point of making sense of reality and interaction with what I see in the world, so I can't fully understand why so many people try to make the world conform to a received image of it. However, I can now say with some confidence that many do struggle to understand chronic illness - if God is faithful, how can suffering continue right in front of us? - even as they dismiss the so-called "problem" of suffering as a theological issue. An acute period of discomfort or a dramatic but finite critical illness is fine; chronic illness, lasting for years with flare-ups persisting for months at a time, is taken as a challenge to a (fictional) promise that Christians will have it easy. It's not scriptural; Jesus never promised you a rose garden. In fact, Christians were guaranteed suffering beyond that which they would experience having never come to faith. In our minds, this has become limited to suffering inflicted by the misbehaviour of others, when I see no reason why we should not also suffer because we live on a planet riddled with disease and illness. Yet we have become prey to a marketed lifestyle expecting to see the fruits of the spirit in various forms of success, whether this is in the form of financial success or familial stability. We follow a messiah who poured himself out for others, but we would rather not go the extra mile to give of our time and energies to others if it means we might be caught with a cobweb in our bathroom corner.


An outward appearance of success is marketed to us as an excellent form of evangelism; we can see how twisted this is when we find out that some preachers are advocating cosmetic surgery for women so that the heathens will see how much prettier Christian women are and want to be just like them, apparently not making the distinction between the external and the spirituality within. A similar kind of imbalance can be seen in those who are dedicated to theology but are so convicted of their calling to mental dedication that they would not notice their granny falling over three feet away.


Quite often this inability to make sense of someone else's chronic illnes (within a distorted frame of reference) spills over into a "blame-the-victim" mentality - your outward appearance and circumstances must reflect the state of your Christian life, so (a) you must have brought this on yourself, and (b) there's an obvious way out if you would only repent. Sometimes a "compassionate" version of this comes from those who wish to pray. I have found prayer (including, or especially, those of others) to be a great support and very real help. But there is a difference between those who have generously prayed for God's will and my ability to deal with it than the people who tried to sit me in a chair so that they could pray for healing, making clear that bringing the faith to make me better was my responsibility, with the unspoken assumption that I was suffering because I had not thought to ask God before, or had not had enough faith to preempt my autoimmune flare-up. Multiply everything by ten for mental health.


I don't mean to suggest that when people react unfortunately that it is in an attempt to beat down the sick - quite the reverse, usually. But I do think that these reactions are misguided and misdirected, though well-meaning, as much as those who suggest that everything can be cured with superfoods, a different sleep pattern or (how I hate this one) giving up bread and dairy - neither of which I eat, normally!


I've had great support from far-flung people - phone calls from Whitney, lots of powerful prayer and concern from all my favourite Whitney-connected people, phone calls from Meg, lots of messages with great empathy from Tanya, who's recovering herself - and a couple of regular visitors in St Andrews - Laura-Claire and Alexis barely missing each other during the week, with great counselling and solidarity, and Mary popping up on gmail constantly and in person every weekend, to entertain us! My GP has been wonderful, even phoning to check up on me and to wish me luck before I saw the consultant. And yes, my parents have been here constantly, now being halfway through their eighth week as carers. We're all going a bit bonkers.


I'll give you the whole saga later. However, returning to the guilt issue, I wanted to bring up one verse of Scripture that, from discussing it with others who have experienced long-term illness, elicits guilt like no other. It's a perfect example of the perils of caring for the chronically ill, as we have enough going on in our heads that you never know how it's going to be received! This isn't exactly fair for others, but it does illustrate that chronic illness is a psychological minefield, and care is advised. Enter pastoral region at own risk...


Oft quoted at the chronically is the maxim, "God never tests you beyond what you are able to bear." What we hear is, "You're struggling? Sign of weakness, you know. You should be upbeat. Life and soul..." First of all, that's not necessarily the intention of those offering the advice (though it can be), but, as I said before - GUILT! Part of it is the expectation that "bearing up" is to be able to continue as normal. I think those who feel badly because of this verse should remember that still being conscious with the ability to process language can, for some situations, be "doing quite well". Second, this is the actual translation of 1 Cor 10:13:

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

Thus, not quite the same situation. I've learned a lot from this flare-up, which I hope is passing, and one of the things I have learned is that it's really quite astounding what the human body and mind can bear. I hope there's a use for all this accumulated knowledge.

New Stages

I'm excited about the arrival of the new people this week. Having been a bit out of the loop this year I can't wait to meet the incoming students and feel really optimistic about all this year's committee has planned. Sounds like a good social year.

Some of us natives are planning a "Welcome to Scotland" event - our feeling is that there have been some tensions in the town recently (from our perspective, a weariness about constant complaints about what we don't do/have without recognition of what might happen/be offered in its stead) and we want to preempt any fears that the newcomers are not welcome by (a) giving a sense of welcome and orientation not just to St Andrews, but to Scottish culture which may not always be apparent in this idiosyncratic place and (b) invite people to enjoy all Scotland has to offer and let them know that we are available and excited to share!

In the meantime, some developments in my illness have been a bit concerning. I went for a nap on Wednesday night and woke up paralysed and shaking in pain for a whole hour until I could move. For the past few days I've been in a lot of pain, my left ankle and foot have been swollen (it looks, and is beginning to feel, like a sprain though it is not) and I can't be left alone at night as I am unable to get in and out of bed without a lot of help. I'm really hoping that this is a dip and I'll be a bit better and more mobile by the end of the week, in time for the barbecue and those sorts of events.

A Week On...

Well, frankly, given how frequently I have posted of late, a gap of one week is hardly serious.

Have been reflecting on two things:

1. I can understand that Leibniz biscuits are only arbitrarily named after the eponymous philosopher. What I can't understand is why they don't advertise themselves as, "The best of all possible biscuits."

2. Though I am not quite "weak and heavy-laden", when one is weak one does not have to be quite moderately laden before one feels that the universe is out to get one.

Still plodding along. Feeling a bit lonely and realising how many key people have left recently or are currently away or busy, but am coping.

The prodigal returns - and final Paris blog

Greetings, readers!

Many of you will know that I went to Paris again, to study in the summer programme for students of French. Many of those people will also know that I came home after thirteen days and just four classes. When I went to Paris, my mobility was severely limited. I was using a toilet frame (just as it sounds - a frame around the toilet to help with sitting and standing) and a helping hand (thing for picking things up). I had also ordered a special custom chair. Since this has been getting steadily but slowly worse over a number of months, I must admit that I was quite shocked to see the difference between Paris last year (when I was very aware of these problems starting) and this summer. I wasn't prepared for the level of difficulty, even getting from bed to the bathroom in an unfamiliar environment, and the constant pain. For the first time, I appreciated how this condition could have as great an impact, in chronic terms, on the ability to function intellectually in class. In Paris, I couldn't manage either the pain or the mobility, and I lacked the mental resources just to cope. As much as I appreciated the interest and concern of those around me, no one could make the situation tenable. I agonised over the decision, not wanting to quit, but eventually I realised that things were getting worse. I also came to terms with the decision to leave as a positive move and took a reality check by letting myself see that I didn't have anything to prove after "doing" Paris already when it was busier, my French wasn't as good, practicalities were not so familiar and I hadn't studied in that way before.

Even though, I had to spend most of the last few days doing very little, I managed a few things of interest before getting on the plane! As you will see in the following blog:

6. Final visits and comfort tourism

Just a thought, on the plane front: who thinks it's a good idea to combine the "special assistance" groups into one catch-all category which leaves people tottering on crutches sharing the same confined space with thirty under-napped under-fives freshly wound up from Disneyland? Show of hands. Anyone?

In a very "don't cry for me, Argentina" way, I would like to say that, although I had to come home early, I have no regrets about returning - life in Paris was becoming unsustainable - but equally, I had the chance to revisit some old haunts, plug up a few gaps in my Parisian experience, and discover a few new places before returning home. Obviously, much of the trip was physically and emotionally gruelling, but if nothing else (and there were several something-elses) it gave me a very vivid picture of just how limited I had become over the past year, comparing like with like. This has led to very clear communication with my doctor (who is just wonderful) and me getting treatment quickly, as well as a referral to rheumatology. I have a clear diagnosis of psoriatic arthropathy, as well as having an X-ray that shows absolutely no permanent damage so far, both of which are reassuring under the circumstances. There is every chance that I could return to a perfectly normal level of mobility, the way things stand, and I am getting very good care now.

As a side note, I really like Kings of Leon, whom I've just discovered.

That random note just about wraps things up for this typically chaotic return to blogging, post-Paris.

One last thing? Here are my two photo albums from Paris, which have some additional commentary.

Paris album one ---- Paris album two

Paris Blogging so far - NOTE #5 added!

Just to say I've blogged a couple more times and have now added photos to the earlier posts. So here is the entire saga so far:

1. Nothing Ventured, No One Pained
2. A very not-like-the-way-Cliff-did-it summer holiday
3. The curious cat was a victim of drowning; or, an illustrated lesson in button-pressing
4. LOST (in France, sans polar bear)
5. Chilling, in every sense but the literal

Nope, it's not going to be something every day this year, but that's because I'm a bit more worn out, a bit sore and I've also got more modest ambitions as far as sightseeing goes. This year I also have work with me so I'm taking things at an easy pace.

(I confess it's nice to have something to blog about, as I've been missing it while keen not to turn it into a source of guilt or stress)

Paris blogging #2

Post two of the blog, in which Kathleen airs her random historical knowledge and impresses with her knowledge of fruit.

Paris blogging begins!

Oh yes, I am in Paris again! And with the greater challenge of time management comes greater organisation, with which comes blogging.

First post here. May be less detailed this year, but I want to record it all!