I have to make an appointment with a dentist later. I have never liked dentists, in fact I have always thought that if ‘push came to shove’, I could quite easily get by without teeth. Well at least real ones. False teeth would suit me fine. If I can manage the last 50 years or so with a pair of false eyes, then a set of false teeth would or should be a doddle. Well, like I say, I have never been very fond of trips to the dentist but this time it will be a little different. After the events of the last 6 months or so, with chemotherapy and radiotherapy for cancer treatment, everything else seems so minor and not worth worrying about. It seems that having cancer has put everything else in my life in to prospective. If I don’t go and sort out my toothache, I will not die, and I could probably pull the tooth out myself. I can’t remove my lungs though, and even if I could, a pair of false lungs would be unlikely to serve me as well as my glass eyes have done. So, I am now in good shape as nothing I do or whatever might happen to me in the future could, or be any worse than what has already happened to me. In truth I probably couldn’t be more wrong. If I were to lose someone close to me that would be far worse than having cancer, or having to face up to death myself. So, I guess no matter how bad things are, they can always be worse, though I am sure that by having a life threatening experience does indeed stand us in good stead for the rest of our lives.

A friend of mine, the late Captain Alan Smith, once told me about a difficult landing he had made while flying a Manx Airlines Viscount aeroplane from Liverpool to Ronaldsway. He landed the aircraft in a force 9 or 10 storm. He had previously warned the passengers that the landing was going to be bumpy. On touch down, all the passengers clapped and cheered. When Alan was asked later about the landing, he replied, “It wasn’t that difficult a landing, after all there was no one shooting at me!” Alan had been an RAF fighter pilot during the war, and his bumpy flight from Liverpool on that day in the cockpit of the Manx Airlines Viscount must have felt like a doddle compared too many of his previous duels over the English Channel back in the 1940’s.

A couple of years ago, my father in law Joe, was staying with us on a short holiday. He was very keen to come out on a sailing trip with us. Unfortunately during that weekend the weather was not good. In the end we decided to take him for a quick trip around Castletown bay. We knew it was going to be a bumpy ride to put it mildly but despite the fact that Joe was well in to his 80’s, he insisted on sitting in the stern of the boat out in the open. As we chugged our way around the bay the boat rocked and rolled like Elvis Pressley. Spray was shipped over the open deck and poor old Joe got a bit of a soaking. When we returned to the harbour, I said to Joe. “Sorry it was so rough for you Joe, hopefully we will do better next time!” “Not at all,” said Joe. “I really enjoyed myself, the last time I was in a small boat was in 1943 after being torpedoed by a German U-boat in the Pacific Ocean. I spent over 40 days at sea that time, in an open lifeboat.” I discovered later that many men had died in the lifeboat and Joe with the remaining few survivors were eventually picked up and landed in Australia. Then after a couple of weeks rest, they were promptly off to chance their arm all over again and I do believe that he was once more torpedoed and spent more time in a lifeboat. We walked up the harbour steps and sat outside the Gluepot pub. Someone shouted, “a rough trip today Tom!” I said nothing. I’m sure though, the old man sat beside me must have thought to himself. “Well, if that’s a rough trip, I will settle for a life on the ocean wave any day of the week!” I think I have now learned my lesson from these brave folks. A cold, a headache, or for that matter a bloody toothache means nothing to me now. Cancer has taught me how to put things in to perspective. Just as Captain Alan Smith’s war time experiences and my father in law’s Joe’s time spent in the lifeboats, taught them. In life sometimes we need to go to the brink in order to learn about perspective. It might be cancer, or some other life threatening disease. You might become ship wrecked or survive an air crash or traffic accident. Whatever form it comes in most of us at some point have to endure something pretty horrific, and as a result of it we learn how to put things into perspective.

This is Tom Glassey, on the banks of the Silverburn, and just simply grateful to be there.