Nickel Blogs - Blog by blog for 21 years

A House, A Home - Anna Wilson

The first brick

I thought the 8th of December 2003 was a weekend, but it was a Monday. Now, I cannot recollect what I was still doing in a Berlin hotel the day I wrote my first blog. I must have been on holiday.

I had been sharing some of my views with a closed circle of friends by email, but it was not efficient, and frankly, some were rather fed-up with me clogging their inboxes with musings and rantings. Did one not ask that I be more authentic, and by that, suggested I was putting up a façade?

Blogging was becoming a trend, it was the subject of an interesting report I caught on CNN when it was the global news outlet pumped into every international hotel room. Quick research on how to start a blog landed me on a website managed by a small outfit in Scotland, and http://akin.blog-city.com/ (now defunct) was born.

Building homes

Even blog hosting sites could not stay the course as I received an email in late 2010 that the service would close in January 2012. That began the process of migrating what we now call content to Google’s Blogger and https://akinblog.nl, over 1,500 of them, a manual activity and what I lost in the process was the engagement and many link references.

Brick by brick, blog by blog, I built a house and a home of thoughts, views, opinions, and perspectives. I have been writing about what I have experienced and how it might affect me or others for 21 years. It is as easy as it is hard. I have 4,177 blogs, including this one, with over 8,300,000 views to date.

A place of blogs

I am commemorating today with a song written by Anna Wilson for Habitat for Humanity International because every sentiment expressed in that song applies to this home that my blog has become.

Finally, thank you to everyone who has visited my blog for whatever reason, some interacting by leaving comments or engaging me directly. I found a quiet corner and you came to say hello, I appreciate you all and hope you will continue to visit and interact with my blog and me.

Here’s to many more anniversaries. In human terms, the 21^st signifies the key to life and the anniversary gift is nickel. Let’s keep building homes for every expression of humanity, brick by brick.

Nickel Blogs - Celebrating 21 years of blogging

Nickel Blogs - In view of 21 years of blogging

Nickel Blogs - 21 years of telling better stories

Nickel Blogs - 21 years of going against the grain

Nickel Blogs - 21 years of articulating the identity spectrum

Nickel Blogs - 21 years of articulating the identity spectrum

Finding a place to be known

Negotiating the identity spectrum has been a feature of my blog, though when I consider the situation, it has always been a feature of my life. However, having a blog has helped articulate the issues around how identity is more defined by influences than by progeny.

I can think of the many experiences and realisations, the earliest being when I first arrived in Nigeria, barely a 5-year-old and I noticed there were more people like me than where we had left. How was a little black English boy to know that Nigeria would be different?

English, people have issues with that, I am supposed to be Black British, yet on those atrocious forms, I would write in Black English. That aspect of being English became ascendant when I had to tackle the question of where I was from when I lived in the Netherlands.

The many questions of where

“Where are you from?”, they would ask. I answer, “I am from England”. The next question usually was, “Where are you originally from?”, The answer, “England”. Confusion or frustration clouds their faces with a further inquiry, “Where are your parents from?”, The answer, “Nigeria”. Enlightenment, “So, you’re Nigerian”, “No, I am not, I was born in England.”

The best question in that vein was, “What is your birth country?”, I answered, “England”, and my interlocutor asked no further questions. This brings me to the other matter of my accent, it started as a typical Brummie accent influenced by associations in Nigeria especially in schools that had a large international pupillage.

Strange juxtapositions of identification

It's funny that most of the Caucasian kids were Nigerian-born, and many of the black kids were foreign-born, with foreign accents, too. However, reading an article by a friend of mixed-race parentage revealed another interesting thing about identity. Those of mixed-race parentage were othered from afar. We looked like everyone else until we began to speak, and then we were put aside, too.

It was like we never really belonged where we thought we belonged; we had to work out how we wanted to be identified. For instance, how do you tackle a statement like, “You’ve always thought like a Westerner?” I was 42 years old, which was what my father said in a conversation.

The privilege and the opportunity

In my case, I have found both privilege and opportunity by the accident of birth that is not of my making, how it has helped me navigate situations in life and at work cannot be covered in a blog. Too many examples come to mind.

Maybe, I am more fortunate that working with my sense of identity and the quality of my education has taken me to interesting places.

I have little time for identity politics, but woe betide anyone who attempts to pigeonhole me in dockets where I neither identify nor wish to place in. Such is the life of a Third Culture Kid.

Some additional context

A Third Culture Kid (TCK) is a person who spends a significant part of their childhood living in a country or countries that are different from at least one of their parents' passport countries:

The child's parents' culture is the first culture.

The host country's culture is the second culture.

The child's own cultural identity is the third culture, which is a fusion of the first two.

The child adopts some traits from each culture. [If I may add, some kids even live in bubbles different from the nominal culture too.]

Nickel Blogs - 21 years of going against the grain

Developing a life of views

It would appear even to me that my blog has developed some unintended characteristics, but these have become some of the elements that give context to what I write.

For instance, one regularly occurring theme is the Thought Picnic which began just like when the blog began, in a hotel room on one of my travels. I was in Antwerp during my news junkie days when another of those Israeli-Palestinian conflicts was in the news.

The world news channels gave an Israeli representative a global platform to which she relayed to my unmistakable hearing, “We have to tell the world our truth.” Not the truth, but their version of the truth, which in its narrative was as far from the truth as the opposite cardinal points of the compass were from each other.

I found myself carted away in my mind’s eye on a picnic into a wilderness left to my thoughts to contemplate the seemingly intractable issues of the world around me. Indeed, I wander away in thought, into things that seem silly or complex. Those who have wondered what goes on in my head want to venture in there as I warn them it is probably no place for the sane.

Becoming an alien to the contemporary

You might also wonder why I have a theme titled Essential Snobbery 101; it is hardly about snobbery but a reflection on how norms have changed over time that some of us despite adaptations still find certain attitudes and behaviours unbelievably strange as to wonder if we have been visited by an alien civilisation.

There are themes dotted around this blog of 21 years, they are informed by perspectives and outlooks that might differ from how people would generally view things. There is a surfeit of commentary on the issues of the day, and where I have an opinion, I dare say it is rarely on the well-trodden ground of thought.

Challenging the orthodoxy brings conflict and controversy, however, celebrating independent thinking should never go out of fashion. Even when I was involved in syndication, remaining unaffiliated and so not beholden to a corporate policy mattered more to me than gaining a wider audience.

Nickel Blogs - 21 years of telling better stories

Celebrating life in abundance

21 years can seem like a lifetime, yet it is just over a third of my life. In that time, one can look back at the many things that have happened, the things done, the people encountered, the places travelled to, the events and activities that could be life-defining, and that becomes a chronicle of life.

I count my blessings and celebrate the joy of living. To have lived through two episodes of life-threatening cancer 15 years apart and still have a story to tell makes me one of the most fortunate people alive.

I take nothing for granted, the life I live is by the grace and mercy of God, medical interventions notwithstanding, the guarantees offered count for nothing if you do not have a greater assurance for results.

For writing better stories

Then what do you do when you have a blog and experience episodes of cancer? You write about it, document the treatment and side effects at diagnosis, and provide some thoughts in the aftermath.

Yes, my blog contains life stories and experiences, both the toughest and the triumphant. I am still standing because there is much more to reveal in my life, and I have better stories to tell.

Whatever inspired my blog at its inception has now turned out to be a reckoning of how favour had greeted me in too many places to mention, especially where I have neither worked for nor deserved the abundance of good that has come my way.

You would notice I rarely use the word lucky, rather, I am fortunate; 1: bringing some good thing not foreseen as certain: auspicious 2: receiving some unexpected good. Definitions according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary. If anything, I have been remiss and negligent in recording the many instances of this glorious divine goodwill accorded me.

Nickel Blogs - In view of 21 years of blogging

It might be a low-key affair

I obviously had great ambitions for celebrating the 21^st anniversary of blogging in a week’s time, but that takes both organising and promoting, activities I cannot say I have the skill for.

Nickel Blogs - Celebrating 21 years of blogging

As it goes, I might just settle for a celebratory blog and a review of things that have caught my attention and interest over that period. The blog itself remains a personal blog even as I find that it garners a global readership and has been achieving record monthly visits for most of this year.

While storytelling has not gone out of fashion, it is a shame that personal blogs of a non-profit nature have waned in significance. As I have alluded to, other forms of expression and media platforms have taken hold as global attention spans have become more engaged with the stimulation of different senses for thrills.

Longevity can be impactful

The other day when I introduced a colleague to my blog, the first thing that caught their attention was the collapsed year archive that read as far back as 2003. Some people even thought I had a journalistic background; I have rarely done anything in the arts and humanities since my secondary school days. However, I do have an interest that might eventually inform a graduate programme.

If anything, the longevity alone can be interesting. I have not made many changes to the blog even though some static content does need to be updated. I won’t even ask anyone to wade through almost 4,200 blogs, but the “Random Post” button on the desktop or non-mobile version of the blog can lead to interesting topics.

Meanwhile, I will post a few thoughts until the anniversary. Thank you for visiting my blog.

Thought Picnic: Time

Time is not a property

Time is a gift we usually do not use properly or cherish its utility. The time we should make for ourselves, for others, or for things. Using time judiciously without wasting it, for ourselves or for others.

The reckoning accounted for in the scheduling and keeping of appointments, giving little room to tardiness out of consideration, courtesy, and respect. We get away too often with not being punctual and having excuses for why we have failed on our part.

There are many facets of time and timekeeping, having an agreed datum for a time reference, that time is not just ticking away, but correct on every timepiece in whatever location, so no one is confused about what the time is. If any time is askew, it should only be in a reasonable margin of error of the magnitude of a few seconds and never more.

Time is a generous gift

Beyond the exactitude of time, the most critical use of time is finding the time and making the time to cultivate relationships, to create wholesome and life-enhancing connections with ideas, people, and events.

After the fact, we find ourselves regretting not seizing the opportunities that time has afforded us, but we are allowed to pass until it is too late. We give time to the negative in holding grudges and offence when should be constructively changing the paradigm for the beauty of fellowship.

Certain things are irredeemable, yet until we have tried our best at redeeming them, we let things lapse and ruefully review in the dreamy unreality of a parallel universe that could have been the universe we inhabited if we made better use of time.

Time is a gift; it is a present we need to be more grateful for and be profusely thankful that we are given a measure of it to make the best of life and living.

Dr William George Wykeham Legg (Willy)

Sadly, it happened

As we suspected without putting words to our thoughts, a message that we received late yesterday came with the confirmation that a friend had passed on after a protracted illness.

I never met Dr William Legg, known as Willy to many; he was born in Zimbabwe and even though he travelled the world for work and his medical education, he was Rhodesian and Zimbabwean, part of a cohort of typically white Africans that apart from their distinctive appearance would pass for native in manner, tongue, and probably outlook too.

It was through Brian that I made an acquaintance with Willy, who was ever courteous, wise, and, well, naughty. I guess with the people who crossed his path due to his profession, you acquire a facility to engage anyone at any level and keep them totally at ease.

Some interactions to note

Whenever he asked Brian to pass his regards to me, there was something lewdly impolite that he also expected Brian to do, to ensure I got the message completely. Seeing my interest in not just Brian but Bulawayo too where he lived, he sent me an old hard-cover book on Bulawayo that contained language that would not pass the censure of a copywriter today.

It depicted a time and place that once was with an engaging narrative that made you want to make off to see, feel, and experience Zimbabwe. There was an expectation that we would meet as he desired to take me to the Matopos Hills, and I was more than interested as that is also where Cecil John Rhodes was buried.

A thought in closing

Alas! We never got to do that, as I have yet to visit Zimbabwe, and he had become quite increasingly frail over the last few years. While having a very active mind to the end, his body literally incapacitated him.

I have heard and read many stories about Willy. He spoke fluent Ndebele, could make chapatis from scratch, was a doctor to many, and a teacher of the medical sciences to many more.

To Brian, he was a friend, a boss, a confidante, a mentor, a father figure, and much more. It is with him that I grieve the passing of Dr William Legg. May his gentle soul rest in peace.

On the things I cherish

On the things I cherish

Some things are indescribable,
Where words make a likely fable,
For every moment I am able,
We like horses do share a stable.

In your eyes I see laughter,
That my steps begin to falter,
It is you and really no other,
That is much closer than a brother.

As seconds count up to days,
We find in our various ways,
How relationship just obeys,
And it is never like a haze.

The words that bring such humour,
Gladdening the heart with succour,
Seeking the fun that does concur,
With all, we choose to honour.

On those beautiful walks on the beach,
The tranquil that sounds like a speech,
Expressing what no one can teach,
We transcend things we once couldn’t reach.

It is a love that rarely speaks its name,
Where passion is never that tame,
It aspires not to any kind of fame,
Only asserts the truth of what we claim.

Wisely manage exertion or you crash

What a sedentary year

Thinking of my main exercise, walking, I have noticed that this year, I have just barely breached 2,000,000 steps in what might, from one perspective, seem like my laziest year in the last five years.

Without making excuses, I understand that the advent of cancer and the treatment of the same limited my facility for exertion in ways I could not have anticipated. I started radiotherapy taking the advice that I could continue doing the routine things I used to do. Still, the experience taught me a lesson that my mind was way ahead of my body, for my body to attempt to catch up.

When I was actively walking, my smartwatch and health app would suggest after every session, the expected recovery time. A serious workout of 13.5 kilometres in about 2 hours called for almost an 18-hour recovery time for my age and abilities. That intensive brisk walking activity has for now sunk into the annals of memory.

What I cannot do now

For instance, yesterday, we went into Cape Town for brunch and decided to walk the seafront promenade from the public baths to the V&A Waterfront. That was about 4.7 km in the warmth of a hot summer. I was caught out, my desire strong, but my strength waning, by the time we reached our destination, I needed Brian for support, and I was totally exhausted.

As much as I tried to push myself, I could do little. On getting back home, I crashed out and my voice when I had to make some calls was closer to a wisping whisper, almost unrecognisable to people who knew me.

Recovery is the package

The moral of the story is that I am not as able as I think I am. For all the youthful zest I possess, I am somewhere in the grandpa category of having to take things easy, and for everything I do, I need adequate and extended recovery time. This is compounded by the fact that I am recuperating and so, I need considerably more time to recover my strength.

Staying in Muizenberg has many benefits. The beach is just 5 minutes away, and it is a good long walk in the breeze to the kiteboarding and surfboarding areas. It is tranquil, refreshing, exhilarating, and good for the soul. On good days, we make the most of the situation, and that is the tonic we need.

Photons on the Prostate - XIII

Many improvements in symptoms

Thinking of the process of recuperation after radiotherapy, I am getting better at least with the signs I have observed. There are fewer occasions of my voice sounding tired and waned from exhaustion, the weather might have contributed too as it is summertime in South Africa.

The symptoms with the waterworks persist and while it will not be defined as benign prostate enlargement the fundamentals of it still exist as the prostate was enlarged because of acinar adenocarcinoma of the prostate, the radiotherapy treatment of the cancer would have further inflamed the prostate and constricted the urinary tract, for which I have to take daily medication to ease water flow.

The image below best describes issues of an enlarged prostate, and links at the end of the blog give more context. The need to check your prostate health is important, I suggest you use the International Prostate Symptom Score (IPSS) Calculator as a starting point to buttress the case to your doctor for a Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) test.

Courtesy of NHS Overview of Benign Prostate Enlargement

Other symptoms of concern

As pertains the waterworks, a polite reference to the bladder issues; there is lesser urgency or frequency, but the weak flow, straining, and nocturia are issues to manage as the prostate heals and hopefully returns to a normal size.

One other side effect that statistically affects others more but has been less of a concern for me is with bowel issues. They are manageable, but mishaps do occur. I reckon part of my original pain management medication has positively impacted expected diarrhoetic symptoms, but I must watch for irregular bowel movements.

What has not normalised is my sleep patterns, they are out of kilter. I suffer a lot from insomnia leading to tiredness during the day with the documented sleep record on my smartwatch showing barely 3 hours of night sleep and naps of about 60 to 90 minutes dotted around the day.

At the church service that I attended yesterday which started at 9:30 AM, I was wilting within an hour into the service. I hope this improves without having to resort to sleep inducement through medication. It might be something to discuss with my medical team.

Appreciating rest and recuperation

More importantly, it is the immediate support and care of my partner that has helped me. It was not easy facing a cancer diagnosis alone in Manchester, I had to rearrange some priorities for the uncertainties ahead. I received a confirmed diagnosis in mid-June but postponed any discussion about options for treatment for a month, while I took time to meet with my partner.

After I returned, the discussion about radical surgery and its side effects were not that encouraging, but I had to wait another fortnight to discuss radical radiotherapy and what confusion followed the different options in that area that we had a lot of back and forth. It was the second-hand experience of others that gave a better insight into what it entailed.

When the radiotherapy commenced in September, I worked through it, keeping up my routine as much as possible, though the fatigue set in, from the onset, at the first weekend, just after 2 treatments. Then, I tried to maintain productivity for another month after the treatments concluded as I realised radiotherapy did have a greater toll on my body than I anticipated.

Making the best of this rest period is critical even as I yearn to get back into professional activity. The art of restful relaxation is one I am yet to master even as I try to distinguish between holiday and recuperation, I should not make my recuperation seem like a holiday, just because I am away from home.

Blog - Men's things - Prostate Cancer blogs

Blog - Photons on the Prostate - XII

Other references

MedScape: International Prostate Symptom Score (IPSS) Calculator

Mayo Clinic: Benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH)

Urology Care Foundation: Benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH)

NHS: Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) test

Prostate Cancer UK: The PSA blood test

Essential Snobbery 101: Between an escort and a chaperone

An industry getting worse

Much as I would hate to observe that recruitment agents have become lazier and more unprofessional, even with the benefits of AI they do not seem to care what they do. It is like they sling shit in every direction with the hope that something sticks somewhere and out of that comes the reward commission for placing a hapless recruit.

For instance, I have had more than a decade-long interaction with this major recruitment agency, they would at least have an old CV of mine that anyone would hope provides some background and history to inform of whether I should be contacted by anyone from the said agency about an opportunity.

That is if the recruitment agent concerned had done any research before using my email address for their scatter-gun activity. I am even surprised I was addressed by name; these emails are usually discourteously impersonal.

Subject: Escort Needed! Apply now [I was first shocked by the email header as the resolved email identity was unfamiliar, that was besides wondering why I would be contacted for any lewd activity as a sex worker which is work that I would hardly qualify for, at this age and not after my prostate gland had been zapped by radioactivity to rid it of cancer. On reading the detail of role, would chaperone have been a better word?]

The email I received yesterday afternoon

[The emphases in the email are as contained in the original with nowt taken out.]

Dear Akin,

Your new company

An exciting and challenging opportunity has become available to join HMP [His Majesty’s Prison nearby] as a contractor escort working as part of a third-party company. This company looks after all maintenance work within this prison.

Your new role

Your new role as a Contractor Escort at HMP [nearby] will consist of 39 hours working Monday – Friday and will involve escorting a variety of contractors and visitors around site, ensuring the strict policies in place are followed. You will be responsible for the protection of inmates, staff and visitors by ensuring these policies are adhered to. Other aspects of the job involve booking in contractor’s tools and supervising them once escorted to their designated working area. This is an ongoing temporary position.

What you'll need to succeed

In order to be successful in this role you will need to pass an enhanced background check conducted by the prison service. This is something we will facilitate upon registration. You will also need to be level-headed, well organised and hardworking person. A security background is beneficial but in not essential for the role.

What you'll get in return

For this job you will receive a competitive hourly rate of £13.68 with 33 days holiday a year. All uniform will be provided. There is a chance for permanent offer. [On the rate alone, I have resisted paying any attention to the derisory offer. The holidays seem generous for the role though.]

Kind regards,

[Recruitment agent name removed]

Recruitment expert in Construction & Property [Their expertise is questionable, at best.]

In all consideration

I could not get this out of my mind, the much I tried as I was both irritated and annoyed, it deserved some sort of response as I did not want my mailbox to be cluttered with such nonsense ever again.

I did consider a very curt reply with a clear rebuke expressing the depth of my indignation, but it probably would have been binned, and though I do not expect a response because such recruitment agents would never have been schooled in the kind of decorum that should make their communication a sign of their professionalism, I tried a different tack in my response, this morning.

With gratitude for the thought

Dear [Name withheld],

I am totally at a loss how any information you might have of me might have inspired my receipt of this job opportunity.

I have a 36-year career in IT, your explanation of how this role relates to my experience would be welcome and helpful.

Otherwise, it is better to first acquire some knowledge of a person's background before filling their mailboxes with irrelevant prospects. That would be the least professional course to take. 

However, thank you for having me in mind for this role, I regret it is unsuitable as I have no appreciation of how useful it is for me.

With kind regards,

[Signed]

The less said beyond this response, the better. However, if the agent does respond, I might update this blog.

That unwelcome discomfort from youth came visiting today

A familiar and rotten feeling

To date, I have never had a proper diagnosis, it is something I have suffered from juvenile times that I need to find a stop to. The stomach/abdominal pain that comes in waves with little in terms of relief can continue for up to a day. Usually starting early in the morning and continuing with moments of respite throughout the day.

Blog - I remember this tummy ache – (October 2007)

Blog - The pain is a long story – (September 2023)

It can be exhausting and the most I can do in terms of remedy is lie on my belly cushioned over a soft pillow and drink lots of sweet and milky tea. This might be accompanied by bowel movement or vomiting, which it was today, but it just adds to the discomfort of it all.

The thoughts that ran through my mind as I writhed with pain in my bedroom midmorning without the appetite for any ingestion even of pain relief, I would hate to consider again. I seem to have learnt to endure the pain with the hope it soon subsides.

The need for more rest

As I write this blog, even though I believe the worst of it is over, the muscles of my stomach seem to retain a memory of the suffering I endured with a foreboding that it might creep on me again. Thankfully, the pain associated with my waterworks post-radiotherapy has literally dissipated.

When I lay on the sofa in the living room, I passed the time away with old playbacks on YouTube of The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. Between the grimaces of pain and the comfort that interspersed today's main event, I did not even notice that we had some rain.

I think I’ll be fine for the rest of the day. There was no indicator as to why this ailment took hold today. I am glad it is over, and it is evident that for all the strength that I think I have regained in my first week of recuperation, I really do need as much rest as I can get, and I have not got nearly as much as I need, so far.

Feeling the warmth of a community church

Decisions for the good or the bad

We had a decision to make about where to attend a church service today without making the mistake of visiting a church with a self-absorbed worship team entertaining a congregation that was failed out of not being spiritually fed. At least that was our impression of the Hillsong Church in June.

We dared think of returning hoping that our first attendance was an off day, but we wrote to both the Cape Town campus and the mother church in Australia, and we received neither an acknowledgement nor a response. We had better go to a place where they are courteous and welcoming.

Blog - Between haughty Hillsong and bounty biltong

Planning without yawning

From Muizenberg to the St. George’s Cathedral, quite unlikely; when getting Brian out of bed on a Sunday morning is a herculean task at best, just perish the thought. So, I did a survey of churches in Muizenberg and two evangelical churches caught my interest, small, out-of-city, new, and growing. We set our minds on staying in Muizenberg.

It would have been a 45-minute walk or thereabouts, but we called an Uber taxicab to convey us to the Main Road of which there might be hundreds in South Africa, we had to be specific before I repeated the mistake of finding myself 33 kilometres from where I intended in Johannesburg, some 9 years ago.

Welcoming warmth and feeling

On arrival, we saw the church flagpole, but unsure of ourselves, we waited outside before someone came to the door. They were friendly and welcoming, and as she invited us inside, introductions followed. They all came to welcome and greet us.

Interest and engagement were evident in a small community church that espoused our Pentecostal beliefs. It was there that we learnt that a priest we knew at St. George’s Cathedral, the cousin of a congregant, had passed away last year.

As we were similarly attired, they wondered if we were band or choir members, we tend to turn heads on Sundays. I said we were partners, but they heard brothers even as I repeated myself. We eventually acquiesced to whatever they wanted to identify us as.

Simple yet impactful

It was low-key, intimate, and friendly. I was called forward to be prayed for, and the sermon was informal and easy-going with contributions from other members of the congregation. I began wilting later in the service but survived to the end before needing the use of the gents.

I took the offer of rooibos tea which I rarely have, sweetened without milk, it tasted good enough, I however do not intend to form a habit of it. We had a splendid time at church before walking back home. We will probably be returning next Sunday.

Companions in travel

Assistance is quite helpful

Those chance encounters with strangers and their stories. Too often we see people on the surface, with no inkling of who they are. Dare we strike up a conversation with them that leads to deep discoveries of similarities and differences between us?

For instance, I used customer assistance services for my trip to Cape Town. Someone to cater for getting me from the check-in counter to the aircraft and back through customs to the arrival terminal by wheelchair or a motorised buggy.

In Manchester, after the security check, I was left in a waiting area until my gate was shown. Soon, an elderly couple arrived, the husband needing a bit more help than his wife. She was amiable and friendly as he made for the gents.

Everyday interesting people

They had lived in Africa for more than 40 years, mainly in Namibia where he was an engineer, and she was in community development. They were going to Cape Town via Doha, arriving in Cape Town about 4 hours before I do.

As the conversation shifted to why we needed assistance, their son had made all the travel arrangements ensuring both his parents had the assisted service. Two years before she had open heart surgery and was put back together with 4 staples and glue.

She volunteered he had a non-cancerous enlarged prostate along with mobility issues and the onset of dementia. They were looking forward to their holidays, full of life and happiness. As we parted ways when I was picked up for the departure gate, we wistfully thought this might not be our last encounter.

I saw them later as they were being taken to their flight and we waved to each other. It might be a concert or wine estate where we'll drink a toast to good health.

The choices we make

Then sat beside me on my flight to Cape Town, I spoke to a lady, resident in Belgium but returning to South Africa to see her family. Alluding to my just completing treatment for cancer, she said she was going for surgery in a few weeks.

You would never have thought, but behind every facade is a world of stories with a touch of humanity. I used my experience to encourage her. She had made treatment choices to protect her quality of life. Every motivation is valid. I elected for radiotherapy over surgery to preserve urinary and sexual function.

With cancer, it is important to have all the useful information to make informed choices. The more pertinent thing: regardless of what people suffer, they go out and live their lives to the fullest.

From arrest to rest

A necessary situation

To think it was exactly two months ago that I walked into the Christie Hospital to begin 20 sessions of hypofractionated radiotherapy to treat malignant prostate cancer.

Until then, I felt nothing apart from what the blood work told us that further investigation revealed. I could have had a year totally oblivious of a growth in a delicate part of my anatomy that could be a cause of serious illness and death.

All through treatment that happened over 4 weeks of weekdays, I barely slowed down activity, though, as fatigue and other issues took hold, I made adjustments.

A betraying voice

This was brought home to me when I attended a conference having apologised for my low energy levels affecting the strength of my voice. Most listeners would have wondered why a sick man is pushing himself so hard. One sought out the management to raise their concerns.

I preferred to have some occupation rather than a distraction; I was accommodated even as others suggested I take time off.

The voice rarely improved; it bears the hallmarks of extreme exhaustion, yet, it is my voice, my tool of expression, slightly battered by resonant. Let me not suggest that it is indefatigable because fatigue has a role in moderating the sound.

Giving due consideration

Radiotherapy is painless and by that reckoning may seem harmless too. The havoc it has wreaked on my waterworks is one I hope to put behind me, along with the urgency that hits me when I need to map a route that offers immediate use of conveniences or sit at home.

The other consideration is finding the strength to do the simple things. It is five weeks since the end of treatment. The cancer is blasted but the body is far from a good state of recovery.

The decision to embark on a journey for the opportunity to access love and care was attacked from many quarters as much as others saw the need for it.

I made a determination after realising I needed to give myself both the time and the rest to recover, not sitting alone in cold Manchester but in the warmth of Cape Town with Brian.

Accepting my vulnerability

The discomfort of being carted around airports in a wheelchair in the knowledge that I truly am not fit enough to do the things I did without concern, before September is that independent streak denying my vulnerability.

However, I know how having a Radar key to access disabled toilets has prevented me from wetting myself the many times I have been out. This is all temporary.

I will get better, fully regain my strength and vigour, and then receive the all-clear assessment in April. What I need to tell myself is I need both the time and the rest to get well. Without that, I arrest my recovery.

To be loved in return

Nat King Cole, Nature Boy

Lifted beyond circumstances

I am like that nature boy who has wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. Whether I have acquired the wisdom of the boy, I cannot say. However, in life, I have learnt a lot about myself and about people.

The world has its issues and strangeness, much of which can affect us, the forces of nature sometimes unrelenting, the foolishness of politics with unintended consequences, and the unreasonableness of leaders bringing war, suffering, migration, and worse upon others.

Maybe we seek to isolate or insulate ourselves from these things, but there is only so much we can do with the limited resources we have to deploy in situations and circumstances we cannot control.

To the earthbound, the horizons are low. What we perceive through our senses can delude us, leaving us vulnerable to error and erroneous judgment. We must transcend these limitations for a dimension first created by imagination and brought into reality by what we speak.

Faith that assures

This is what undergirds my situation, I find inspiration in the words of the Christian God and begin a journey to places I could never have imagined possible. My story is not set in the travails of many aspects of adversity I have experienced, but in the blessings and triumphs that have put the past into the shade.

There are things I could not have planned for; grace and providence laid out paths that when I look back, I am amazed at how things have not only worked out for the good but have become testimonies of wonder because I refused to be moved by the storms that rage around to distract from purpose and determination.

As I embark on a time for rest and recuperation, I see the joy of living, the wonder of love, the beauty of peace, and the rejuvenation of spirit, soul, and body.

Beyond that, I hear the words of the nature boy:

The greatest thing,
You'll ever learn,
Is just to love,
And be loved in return.

Nickel Blogs - Celebrating 21 years of blogging

How expression has changed

In a month, my blog will have been running for 21 years. Eleven years ago, on the tenth anniversary of starting this blog, I invited friends and readers to contribute blogs to commemorate the occasion.

It was a different time and age; much has happened in a decade. There are hardly any personal blogs or many with a prolific output like there were back then. That is not because we do not have stories to tell. The medium and the model has changed.

It is all about content and engagement, hobbies that have become earners too. We are in the era of TikTok and skits, everything to titillate the senses for a few seconds you are lucky to grab the attention of that fleeting patron who is already unimpressed before you can make an impression.

Something for Nickel Blogs

Even as the thought of running another Your Blog On My Blog party seems to verge on wishful thinking, one can only try. This is an invitation to anyone who has ever found anything interesting on my blog, to write on any topic of interest to them to share in the celebration of this landmark occasion.

In tradition, brass and nickel are associated with the 21^st anniversary; I prefer nickel over brass. I might call this series the Nickel Blogs, but better ideas might come. The countdown has begun, and I’m excited.

Can this happen again?

The last time around I was honoured with 35 contributions, each published daily over 5 weeks. Looking back, some contributors have even dropped off Twitter. It might rekindle old friendships and acquaintances too. Some blogs still get readers today, and I might also get newly interested people.

Please contact me if you want to write a blog for my Nickel Blogs. Thank you for your readership, patronage, interest, and custom.

Decade Blogs - Roundup V - All the 35 Blogs and Thanks - December 2013/January 2014

Martinair: Memories of returning to work after cancer

One man’s passing and my story

A waking moment to attend to a nature call, then a brief glance at my phone to find that J. Martin Schröder had passed on early last month at the age of 93.

The obituary I read in the Telegraph filled in many gaps in my knowledge of the man who I never met but whose company on the verge of being absorbed by another played a significant role in my life. [The Telegraph: J Martin Schröder, enterprising Dutch pilot who built Europe’s first budget airline]

In early 2010, it was a dauntingly impossible task to write a resume with a one-year gap for jobs I used to be able to cherry pick for highly remunerated contract rates. Times when I could take a month or two off work to do other things were a luxury I could no longer afford.

Have you a job for me?

In the aftermath of the failure of my health and treatment for cancer, I had received a grace period from my creditors and despite the generous welfare payments I eventually applied for, 8 months later than I should have because I was unaware of my entitlements in the Netherlands, I was ready to get back to work even though I barely had the strength for any activity.

I had this idea to place a notice on LinkedIn explaining my situation to my network and out of it came an opening, a young colleague I worked with a few years before contacted me saying the job is not what I normally do but I could be useful for the project his recruiting outfit was getting personnel for. If only I had an enterprising business head like him, he worked on both sides of the game.

A different engagement

I attended an interview, and I cannot say it was my perspicacity that got me the role, I was a shadow of myself in many ways, but I was given the opportunity, there and then.

I got into the activity; it was an IP Renumbering project with Martinair the airline and cargo company. Their IT infrastructure had IP Address ranges that overlapped with that of KLM, all their systems needed to be reconfigured for the absorption into the broader enterprise.

My first 5 days at work totally knocked me out, I was too tired to get any rest, I was more exhausted than I had ever felt before, that it immediately dawned on me, that I was everything but superhuman, I needed to slow things down. In the process, I was able to negotiate a 4-day week with Wednesdays off.

The project was canned after 2 months and resurrected a month after to the end of the year. It gave me a big break and I am forever grateful to the many colleagues who accommodated my issues through the project. It was my last job before I left the Netherlands to return to the UK.

Grateful for the opportunity

That stint at Martinair meant I could notch up another industry in my career profile and to think I had worked so close to Amsterdam Schiphol Airport in Hoofddorp and Schiphol-Rijk for many years without being in that industry.

I however maintain my links with the Netherlands through the Flying Blue loyalty scheme as I mainly fly with Air France-KLM except where they do not serve the intended route.

I cannot think of what I would have done if Martinair, the dream and enterprise founded by J Martin Schröder, did not have a job going. So many memories and some enduring friendships too. I acknowledge them and to the great man and pioneer in the aviation industry, may his soul rest in peace.

Thought Picnic: Using time to recover

 

Ringing the 'End of treatment bell' on the 9th of October 2024

To ring that bell

It is four weeks since I rang the bell signalling the end of my radiotherapy treatment for malignant prostate cancer. From the moment I saw what the bell was meant for in the waiting area of the radiotherapy department at the Christie Hospital, I had every desire to make it toll.

For the 20 weekdays that I attended sessions for treatment, I only heard the bell ring thrice, the first two times was within ten minutes of each other, and then it was almost two weeks later that I heard it again. We all applauded at the celebration the ringing meant.

Yet, the distance in time from the said treatment has not resulted in the lessening of the effects of it, I have just soldiered on with the force of will and determination when I should have taken some time off. That would happen in earnest, and I am looking forward to it.

Perspective to recovery

Thinking back to almost 15 years ago; over five months, I endured 7 gruelling sessions of chemotherapy every three weeks that I was told, I would at the minimum need 6 months to recover. There were many things to recover from, weaning myself of opioid pain killers took three months after I felt no more cancer pain.

My return to work, just six weeks after chemotherapy was too much to manage that for the rest of the year from the end of March, I had Wednesdays off. My ambulatory performance had me lagging well behind people having a leisurely walk and the recovery of my sense of taste for different flavours took just about as long too.

Strangely, the seemingly lasting effect of chemotherapy was it shortened the time in which I was allergic to pollen from about 6 months to around 2 months. If anything, recovery from treatment for cancer takes time. We sometimes find ourselves too afraid to take all the time necessary to recover.

It is well with my soul

"My Help" - Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, with lyrics

Knowing the Lord who keeps me

As I saw in the First of January this year from the fellowship of a small church in South Manchester, there is much I could not have planned for in 2024, except for having hope and expectations.

It has been quite an eventful year, and I am reminded of where to place my focus, not in men, not on events, or the vicissitudes of life that serve to both tempt and distract. I woke up one morning some time ago (that was literally four years ago), and I had to find the verse in the Bible that said, “The Lord who keeps me, neither slumbers nor sleeps.” Ps 121:4

Blog - He shall preserve my soul, even forevermore

It was in Psalm 121 of which a rather melodious song derived from the meaningful verses gives a sense that where all seems to go awry around us, there is a place to find all you need to know that when others are losing their heads in despair, despondency, dispute, disease, defeat, death or much worse, you will neither lose your way nor sway.

Beyond the human to the spiritual

I will be the first to say when I faced the prospect of malignant prostate cancer, I did not understand what was happening to me. Sometimes, a thought raced through my mind like I was facing the looming abyss of destruction, a sudden end over which I had become a victim of circumstances beyond my control.

I entered my closet, the confines of my humble abode. I began to playback messages of hope and encouragement, of life and living, of stories and testimonies, of triumph and victory. No, I was not hopeless, the advantages of medical science notwithstanding, the battle had to be won first in between my ears before I knew I could win elsewhere.

Trust in the Lord, always

I feel the same about today for there was another expectation in the human realm that had been dashed by some of the amazing mysteries of how humanity chooses the worse over the better. It is not a new thing. Most of the Israelites of the Bible in Exodus while quite desirous of being freed from Egyptian bondage ended up perishing in the desert because they focused on worsening circumstances over extraordinarily better assurances.

You learn with time that the earth is not on a trajectory to Paradise, it is coming to an end by nature and anthropomorphic abuse, we look to something new, something different, and more exciting than the natural mind can fathom. You are left with one thing to ponder, where is your faith, your assurance, your expectation, and your hope?

In that, I have the fullest confidence that this lies way beyond the reach of the travails of humanity, I meditate in the life-giving sustenance of words inspired by God to spew forth from the lips of men, on which to meditate and find calm in the storms of life, wherefore, I can say without dissimulation, I shall not be moved.

Read, recite, meditate

Psalms 121:1-8 KJV

(1) A Song of degrees. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

(2) My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth.

(3) He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.

(4) Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

(5) The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand.

(6) The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

(7) The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.

(8) The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

Bible Hub: Psalm 121 (Parallel versions)