Sundays of willing to will

Missing from church

Last Sunday, I had a lie-in. It would have been one church service to attend as it represented the beginning of the judicial year, a civic service with the High Sheriff of Manchester being the main celebrant ahead of the judges, lawyers, officers and officials of the law, the civil service, the mayoralty, along with county and council officials.

As a church steward, apart from ushering in the congregants, some lead the officials in procession at the beginning and end of the service. I would have been no use in the setup as I would not have had the strength out of fatigue and other discomforts.

Selling funny remedies

Yesterday, I was up quite early and had at first wondered if I would attend the sung eucharist at church, but with the force of will over the concerns about my ability, I got up, showered, dressed up and hailed an Uber taxicab to take me to church.

As my voice was in the spectral end of waned, as I explained to the driver the apparent predicament, I was regaled with a tale of a black Frenchman who had herbal cures for cancer. A friend of his had refused medical treatment and shelled out about £1,500 for these medicinal goods that were packaged in something to make you draw a sharp breath that he had been conned.

It transpired that his friend having cut out meat, changed his diet and ingested these snake oil concoctions on presenting himself for new medical tests had not eradicated prostate cancer, however, it seemed contained and stable for years after, and his doctor advised he continued whatever was helping this non-progression of the cancer.

Making the medical case

All through, I had my misgivings, no effective medicine for prostate cancer sits in a backwater grotto to be purveyed on YouTube channels where the spirit of hypochondria can so easily possess you and you believe you have any ailment that presents without an effective diagnosis.

I took his word for it but made the case that if medical science has clearly diagnosed a condition, medical science must have the last say on whether that condition persists or has been cured. Whatever route you choose to procure a cure is left to you by miraculous intervention, medical treatment, or some herbal remedy that seems efficacious even if not subject to any peer review, just the positive reviews of patrons of that service.

The more pertinent issue is that we should all get tested and be assured of our situation, knowing there is nothing to worry about or that something demands immediate attention.

Easy does it

I arrived at church to a hearty welcome from everyone as I took my seat and well, sat through the service except for the reading of the gospel and when I went for communion. In the end, I was offered decaffeinated coffee, and chatted to other friends, before I was given a lift back home.

I realise there is a lot I desire to do, but much of it cannot be done because the strength and capacity are not there. Sometimes, it is just the thought of a journey that wearies me that my better judgement is to abort the idea. The side effects are still a bother, it might take a while to fully recover.

The Village Church I did not even bother to attend, though, I must send them a note about the end of my treatment and my recuperation.

Do you feel the way that I feel?

Words with changing meanings

It is amazing how reading the meaning of a word in the past can have such an impact on your perception of the word as culture and norms shift. The impression you have of the word and its use in language in contemporary times might leave you shocked.

I know how knowing the use of certain words like 'bastard' in Nigeria could almost be a word of endearment in English, not carrying the original meaning of shameful illegitimacy at birth or of not having any acknowledgement of forebears. Derogatory as it might be depending in tone, it can be a synonym for rascal and that is not so bad as it was on a school report half a century ago.

Whether or not

One such word I used today in conversation with my mother about someone else was hypochondriac. She thought it was quite strong a word to use in terms of this other person. “A hypochondriac is someone who lives with the fear that they have a serious, but undiagnosed medical condition, even though diagnostic tests show there is nothing wrong with them.” [The Center for Treatment of Anxiety and Mood Disorders: Hypochondriac]

Yet, the word did clearly describe the situation without equivocation. It is understandable that once having suffered a condition that has been effectively treated, there might be a fear of it recurring. Doubtless, it is important patients are listening to, respected, and treated with courtesy. Essentially, they need to be believed, given not just the benefit of the doubt along with the full complement of medical attention and tests to verifiably prove the presence or absence of ailment.

With a sympathetic view

However, once the absence is proven and the patient takes a second opinion, without new discoveries, the condition might well be an anxiety disorder, to be addressed rather than ignored. Maybe, I am a bit ambivalent about this and I have to suggest all conditions regardless of the medical opinion need some sort of treatment and indifference is not one of them.

I guess the danger in the meaning of words is hypochondriac can be dismissive when it should be immersive, concerning, involved, and engaged, for the sake of the person presumed to be suffering from it and those who have observed that it might be the case.