, , , , , , , ,

Just now I looked at the calendar, on the 20th of this month will be the day I had my cells given back to me, on looking at the calendar I realised that one year ago today I would have been rigged up to the machine giving my stem cells so I  could even have my transplant. I don’t know why, but it made me cry, like proper cry. It’s so aweful for anyone to go through. My thoughts went to my friends who had done it themselves. Lee, Deanna, Jeanine, Paula, Jim, Chris, I became overwhelmed that people have to even endure this process. But then at the same time I felt a sense of gratefulness that I was indeed one of the ones accepted to have the process done. I don’t know why my brain works how it does,mbut I guess I am just trying to help you understand how others may feel in the process.

Down the road from me is a chapel, that chapel has been standing for nearly a hundred years, it has stained glass, an impressive organ. Solid oak, a gorgeous place. As I looked around at the derelict building I imagined the laughter during the christenings, the smiles at the weddings, the confetee being thrown on the front steps. The sad faces of the mourners on the sad funeral day. The children playing in their Sunday best, the lively things that have happened their and the sad. I pondered the people that had prayed for others health, thoughts passed of all the people that had prayed for another in kindness and with reverent respect.

To me that building stood for something, like my life before transplant. I cared for other people and whilst I was never perfect much like the old church. I needed to be made new again by replacing the very blood that kept me alive. Making new what had become useless so that I may recover and become useful once again. Cancer is horrific, like rust is to a car and rot is to wood. At some point in all our lives we will face something that we can’t see is good for us at the time, maybe it never will be useful again like the church that’s come to the end of its life. But there with that church holds so many many memories to so so many people. So with fondness I think of the church and all the memories it holds. I could not help myself. I needed to take something home with me. A memory of the place that meant so much to so many.

So carefully this morning I along with two Polish workmen removed a pain of stained glass, I will pick up the lintels later so that when I look at that window I can remember the things the church stood for, and think that maybe it’s similar for me. That because I was rebuilt that I can still look through a window, taking me back in time to all that was. But looking forwards to all that will be. Your life is for a reason of that I am certain, your tears are not for nothing. Because you stand for something. Everyday till I leave this house I will remember the good of the chapel on Chapel road, the Methodist church and all it brought to Hesketh bank. RIP and thanks to all the people that made sure it stood for all these years. 

A new one will be built and I will be a part of that future, maybe you will to. But where ever you live, remember your life is of great value. The memories you have to share are worth sharing to. Don’t lock them away, share them with the world so they will last for ever to. Memories are precious.



Follow me on Twitter


Email – fonzicloud@icloud.com

Our support group on our FB

Cancer stories (people helping people through experience) 

It’s a group where people’s experiences are used to encourage others. 

Everything you read are based on my own experience and my own opinions. I express them here to encourage you. Please share with others, if it meant something to you it will to someone else. All images are from a Google search. Or my own.

Copyright © 2016