I’m still alive praise God.
330 days out from the transplant and back at work part-time.
Boy oh boy this Leukaemia bullet dodging makes you live on the edge of your seat.
I might share something I wrote to Nicky Chiswell recently (who i haven’t seen for a couple of years):
Hi Nicky, its Rocky here.
In February last year I was diagnosed with aggressive Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia, and in less then an hour my whole world had changed and passed from one of (seemingly) my own control to one of hospital wards, tests, tubes and treatments. I spent the next months in the cancer ward at St George Hospital on almost daily chemo and other medicines. In July at Westmead Hospital I had more chemo, and then radiation, and finally underwent a Bone Marrow transplant on July 13 as my best hope of survival.
Well why I’m telling you this is that it has almost been a year now since the transplant [it appears to be working :-)], but I now and then I get these moments of poignant reality where I just stop in the middle of wherever I am and ponder my survival and the meaningless of most of what passes as modern life. Often I just stare into nothing in the middle of a crowd and am dominated by thoughts of eternity and the human condition. The psychologist at hospital called it “coming face to face with existential angst” - we know it as the realising the emptiness of life without Christ.
Only days ago this happened when I was walking, and out of the blue (as if anything really is!) this phrase just locked itself into my head ... “Nothing is safe, nothing is safe”. And then I heard in my mind you singing the song with that line and I remembered the album.
At home I managed to find our old “Speechless” cassette, and after a bit longer I managed to find a working tape player!
But underneath our security blanket, can’t you feel it get a little colder everyday
Nothing is safe, Nothing is safeAt least four fellow cancer travellers whose paths crossed mine last year are no longer here. One was a school teacher just like me. A little colder every day ...
On March 8, 2007 I woke up in my hospital ward to see on TV that on the previous day Garuda flight 200 had crashed in Java killing 22 people, including some Australians. I looked around at the three other blokes with cancer in their beds and thought, “well ... we’re all still here, and 22 people aren’t”. It was very sobering. Nothing is safe ...
The giver of life just upped and died
His death was ugly, but I have to say
My only safety started that day and without him
Nothing is safe, nothing is safe.Somtimes Nicky you have to almost die to learn about living. He is our only safety. Apparently, the statistical chance of my being alive in four more years is 48% (ie adult A.L.L. Leukaemia). However God offers us a 100% promise of glory with Him.
Thanks for writing and recording the song. If you ever plan to sing it again in Sydney let me know. I’d like to hear it live someday.
Go and spend sometime with your boys. I used to pray “God, let me live for little Bonnie and Eric”. And He did, praise Him.
Enjoying each moment in the light of Christ
Thank you to those that prayed, even though you don’t know me. We don’t get to choose our earthly outcome, but we are called to live each day for Christ - I encourage you to do that. Nothing is safe.