A Question of Trust

In whom or in what do you trust?

People put their trust in all sorts of things only later to realise that they were a false hope.

Along my cancer journey, I have learned a lot. I have little trust in science as it is done by people; and people can be very untrustworthy. 

Occasionally there have been individual doctors and nurses who I have been able to trust, but I have little trust in the NHS as a whole as they have let me down badly. 

I knew all this before- from a thirty-year career as a police officer -and whilst cancer treatment has offered a different perspective, I have seen first-hand the way in which new drugs are developed and approved, or not, as is more often the case. 

I watched the documentary about the serial killer nurse, Lucy Letby, who was, just this week, sentenced to whole life imprisonment for the murders of premature babies in a neonatal unit. Babies who were at her mercy and in her care. 

I saw how she fed off the horror and grief of the parents as she bathed the little children in front of them; the new life that was so cruelly extinguished at her own hand.

I saw the cognitive dissonance of managers who refused to believe she would do such things and how they would not listen to the concerns of senior doctors- leading to more deaths and even apologies to their murderer.

A tragic situation. 

I was recently offered a phase-two trial drug at the Royal Marsden Hospital and would be one of only two people in the country to receive it- a type of targeted chemotherapy. 

This would mean many months of treatment: biopsies, scans , numerous tests and the treatment itself- or a placebo. 

This would take me away from my home and my family and from the people and places I love in my last months. Most trial drugs, as I have already said, never come to market. 

I have decided not to take up the offer. 

I have not given up all hope, but I am at peace with my decision. 

The reality is that even with more chemotherapy, the options for hormone therapies that keep the tumours at bay have ceased to be effective. 

I’m not desperate to live for a little longer but neither am I ready to face the inevitability of a somewhat painful and drawn out death. I’ve just seen my own brother succumb to the same disease and have given a tribute both written (in The Spectator) https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/a-tribute-to-my-brother-jeremy-clarke and orally in Church. 

It’s not as though I don’t know what is coming; what I must inevitably face. This is my Gethsemane moment: “Yet not My will, but Your will, be done.”

Of course, I cannot compare my plight to that of Jesus and the terrible knowledge of the gruesome death to which he submitted, but I can draw hope and courage from his prayer and what he achieved on that wondrous cross. 

Leaving no stone unturned, Michelle and I discovered that there is a targeted cancer treatment which is both effective and without the usual side effects, that the Royal Marsden Hospital will flog to me for £24,000 a pop. (Up to six treatments -so you can do the maths).

There is also a moral question here:

I was more than a little miffed to discover that whilst the Marsden would happily offer me up as a living sacrifice, to be prodded and poked by the false gods of modern science, that there was already an effective treatment in place for those wealthy enough to afford it. 

I feel that I should not pay for it and will not have it unless it is made available to the NHS by NICE (The National Institutes for health and Care Excellence) I’ve written them a letter and await their response. 

There is something very unsavoury about a charity that is willing to experiment with new drugs on humans whilst selling proven ones to those who can afford it. 

Anyway, I’m at peace with my decision. 

Having exceeded all expectations this far, and relatively unscathed, I’ve often been commended for having a strong and positive mindset, but it isn’t that. 

Early in my cancer journey, I decided to trust in God alone. I knew that I would not be disappointed. 

I’m minded of Elijah’s words to the Israelites: “How long will you go limping between two different opinions ? If the Lord is God follow him. If Baal is god follow him”.

I made my choice then. 

This choice has little to do with what we think about death and the hereafter, but the way we choose to live our lives in the here and now and, more importantly, what God or gods we choose to follow. 

Trust is surely gained in love and in truth and in keeping the promises we make to one another. 

Can the gods you follow answer your prayers? Do they lead to life or are they a vain hope: mere idols made by the hands of men? Or worse still are they men who would make gods of themselves, deciding the fate of we lesser mortals? 

After all, Scientists don’t have magical powers of reason but are subject to the same biases and foolishness as the rest of us. They are committed to producing the drugs and the results that their sponsors want. Their main concern is profit over patients. 

Just look at the way vaccines were portrayed during the covid pandemic and who profited from them. it was more a study of human behaviour and compliance than a demonstration of scientific breakthrough. 

I note that the former Chief medical officer- professor Jonathan Van Tam – who led the response to covid- has just joined pharmaceutical company, Moderna as an adviser. He’s not the only one to do so, not seeing the conflict of interest. 

And why would I trust in a Science that asserts that men can be women and give birth, yet refuses to be questioned and indemnifies itself from all liability? 

A recent inquiry revealed that not a penny of their vast profits was put aside for genuine vaccine injury. 

‘The Science’ that we were all enjoined to follow, it has now been proven, was not only wrong about its assertions during the response to the covid pandemic but also to have lied about it. (It’s official!)

My concern- as the patient (or Guinea pig) has always been the same: what are the risks and benefits and are those risks worth taking for me? A degree of critical thinking and understanding is required. And if further clarity is required- who can I trust?

I have come to a crossroads and have concluded that time spent at home with my family is more valuable to me than the limited hope of any trial drug. Sometimes acceptance is the better part of valour. 

This brings me back to the point: Who then can I trust? 

Am I happy to put my trust in someone I don’t know and who may not have my best interests at heart? Someone whose motives and values are unclear? 

They’re good questions we can all  ask ourselves? 

CS Lewis says this about trusting God:

““[To have Faith in Christ] means, of course, trying to do all that He says. There would be no sense in saying you trusted a person if you would not take his advice. Thus if you have really handed yourself over to Him, it must follow that you are trying to obey Him. But trying in a new way, a less worried way. Not doing these things in order to be saved, but because He has begun to save you already. Not hoping to get to Heaven as a reward for your actions, but inevitably wanting to act in a certain way because a first faint gleam of Heaven is already inside you.”

I do most of my thinking and praying on Dartmoor when I’m walking alone with my dogs. 

I sometimes recite aloud psalm 23 as I stride across its high Tors and through its steep valleys. It is looking particularly beautiful at the moment. The psalm is often read at funerals or to comfort the dying and whilst it is good in those moments, I prefer to think of it as the best guide to a full life. 

It is the psalm of King David, who trusted in God:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
 I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
 your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
 in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
 my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell[f] in the house of the Lord
forever.

I sincerely hope that the first faint gleam of heaven is inside me. I’m far from the finished article. I still fail and I still fall. But as Jesus himself said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”