The words of the famous hymn spell out my story. Even if the corona-virus crackdown prevents the singing of this in UK churches – not that many would probably choose this style of musical praise today anyway – it remains one of my favourites.
Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven;
To His feet thy tribute bring.
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Evermore His praises sing:
(Henry Lyte 1834)
In a recent newspaper interview and article I was asked several questions about my experience of chronic pain. Here’s an extract:
If you feel able to, please can you explain for those who may not realise, what is it really like to live with pain every day? The pain of pancreatitis is out of this world. It often meant that I couldn’t breathe freely and had to lie curled up in a foetal position to try and find relief. At times I was carried out of the home by ambulance personnel in that position. Pain made it difficult to concentrate as it is all consuming. It was a daily battle to deal with the depression that comes with chronic pain but is often exasperated by the kind of drugs I was taking. Pain is a slave driver, a hard task master and a thief. It stole so much from me that no insurance policy on earth could ever repay me for the years lost to it.
Now, two and a half years after that drastic and radical transplant surgery, I am free of pain after 22 years of suffering. Can you see why I love that hymn so much? If you would like to know more, email me at throughthestorms750@gmail.com and I will be glad to arrange to let you have a signed copy of my book.
Through the Storms 