State of Alarm - day Seventy One

I had a broken night's sleep, partly due to the wound exuding messily in the dead of night, but also as a result of this sense of anxiety, which may be related to the vagus nerve stimulus, rather than my state of mind. I got up and took my first pill of the day at six, but couldn't settle, so I got into work mode, and by lunchtime had completed and sent off the week's audio uploads. My mind is now clear and sharp again and I can think. I'd been dithering over a sermon for days, but when I began writing I had a satisfactory draft quicker than usual. 

I was preoccupied by the notion that if I continued to feel this unwell, I might fail to deliver. I'm sure everyone would be kind and understanding if I did, but increasingly, reflecting upon my life has taught me how fear of failure is a driving force, even though long ago I have 'given myself permission to fail' as psycho-babble jargon asserts.

As the day wore on the wound leaked a lot more, inconveniently as I had an idea about taking a taxi to St Antoni for a medical check up. Leakage resulted in improvement of my physical condition through the day, and once I was relived that my work load was done, I thought I would relax, but not so. I was intermittently and uncharacteristically weepy, and still replaying events and prospects in my mind with an internal sense of dread. I've been here before, I thought. I was in the same state of mind when I was alone and sick in Montreux with two important weddings to see through, two Sunday and two weekday services to do before my home flight. I was in pain and full of infection which was untreated, despite the surgeon I saw getting drainage going. Déjà vu.

The same pattern of circumstances, the same feeling of helplessness trapped by my own infirmity while trying to deliver promised services driven by fear of failure. Well, well, well PTSD embedded in my own habitual behaviour, and me not recognising it. It's bad enough, not being able to see the wound which has given me such trouble, but not to notice the emotional wound! I know what healing needs to be prayed for now. And that's a start, breaking the vicious cycle.

I had a surprise call from Archdeacon David who'd evidently had news of my misfortunes, and also a call from my sister June, as even worried about her 'little brother'. Pauline is still hanging on in there, but is weak and will take an age to recover if they get the treatment right.