Men's things - IV

Men’s showing

The number of ladies who have accosted me and commended my dressing would suggest our womenfolk do appreciate men being well turned out. The refrain I hear quite often as I heard this afternoon was, “I wish men dressed up more like you.”

My fashion; somewhat formal and neat still matters even as the casual and informal have become the trend. The common, while nice, does not stand out or attract notice, as how I have been greeted with compliments over the years. I blushingly thank them and go on my way.

Men’s issues

After my transperineal prostate biopsy on Tuesday, there are quite some people who would have expected me to stay at home yesterday, if not for the rest of the week. Brian, especially, was annoyed with me, when I called him yesterday morning as I boarded the tram. He put it down to stubbornness, a trait I do not recognise in myself, even after much reflection. [Manchester Urology: Transperineal Template Prostate biopsy]

The pain in the perineal area had subsided by Tuesday night, I have felt no further discomfort since then and there has been no further need for analgesics. However, since yesterday afternoon, I have had blood in my urine, an expected side effect of prostate biopsies that could last up to 10 days. This seems to happen in all cases. [The British Association of Urological Surgeons (BAUS): Transperineal Ultrasound-Guided Biopsies of the Prostate Gland (PDF)]

Then, for up to 6 weeks, one can expect to have blood in the semen, though, it is not supposed to affect one’s partners. The risk of infection with sepsis is lower with the transperineal approach than with the transrectal option. I fortunately do not have any symptoms of the other side effects that occur less frequently with patients.

Men’s things

Having this procedure under local anaesthetic is useful from the fact that your reaction to the nicking activity can prevent damage to the gland and associated organs. Under general anaesthesia, the doctor has no additional guidance beyond the ultrasound probe and their dexterity.

I used a public urinal earlier against my better judgement, a stream of yellow nectar interspersed with splashes of red, then at the end, in the shake out, more red than I could be comfortable with. I waited for the urinal to flush, but it did not clear everything. Someone would have observed my leaving the place and wondered what I had. [Note to self: Use the cubicle, next time.]

How do you throw up your hands and blurt out, "Alright, I had a prostate biopsy 2 days ago and that is one of the side effects?" Then, it might be an activist opportunity to remind menfolk that men’s things need checking up regularly and frequently. Experience can make an unexpected prophet of a cynic.

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Gibbering not to the wreck

I suppose it was in a flux of apprehension that I forgot my notes, notepad, and pen as I made for my early consultation. Fortunately, I had printed out the Canadian paper that gave a cautionary note on avoidable biopsies and that was my reference document as I boarded the luxury Uber BMW that dropped me off in the maze of the Manchester Royal Infirmary buildings unsure of where I needed to go, until a nurse gave me directions.

At the reception, I was asked to give a urine sample which might well have been under duress as I waited to see the consultant. He had decided I must have a Transperineal Prostate Biopsy, but I had questions, his approach was quite paternalistic even as he implied there was no pressure to go ahead with the biopsy. It was my decision to make, only if I had the essential data, for that purpose.

Decision time truncated

However, my PSA reading was high, increasing dramatically over a 7-week monitoring, the DRE (Digital Rectal Examination) suggested an enlarged but smooth prostate organ, the next thing I needed to know was the PI-RADS (Prostate Imaging Reporting and Data System) score pertaining to the mpMRI (multiparametric MRI) scan I had, just over two weeks before. On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being benign and 5 suggesting cancerous lesions, the assessment was 4. [Radiopaedia: PI-RADS]

With that conclusion, I guess I had no other alternative than to go ahead with the biopsy. No time to waste with that kind of assessment. I opted for the biopsy even as the life-or-death implications dawned on me with the sudden realisation of the loneliness that accompanies decisions like this. Your mortality becomes a smorgasbord of conflicting thoughts, you seek a resolution and a determination, with no time to reflect on the import of the moment.

Let’s do this thing

Soon, I was with the doctor who was to do the biopsy, his computer was acting up, and his pen not inking the paper. I lent him my pen that the receptionist had given me to take notes of the questions and points I needed to assess my understanding of the situation, and he explained through drawings what was to be done.

I still had the option not to go ahead with the biopsy, I asked to see the MRI scan, and he zeroed in on the T2 scan explaining the abnormalities on one side that presented the need for a biopsy. [Radiopaedia: Prostate MRI - T2 Weighted Imaging explained here.]

Then, I was prepped for the biopsy, I changed from shoes into my slippers and only had to take off my trousers and underwear to wear a hospital tunic gown.

Ouch! And much else

I swallowed 3 antibiotics Ciprofloxacin 250mg tablets and about 15 minutes later, I was invited into the biopsy room. splayed out as if to be examined by an obstetrician in the most vulnerable state in stirrups, a digital inspection, then an ultrasound probe, a cold antiseptic wipe, and an icy cold spray even so painfully close to beyond endurance, a light introduction to discomfort as I looked up at the scenery of a tropical beach, psychology that was good for the imagination, but I felt better closing my eyes.

I grimaced and let out a shriek, once or twice as the local anaesthetic was injected, I was probably given 6 injections.

Again, the ultrasound probe was inserted and then the doctor began taking the biopsies, I felt much unease and on two occasions pain, the biopsy needle sounded like a stapling gun, and that happened about 9 times.

All done for now

I did not feel at all woozy, and when it was done, my blood pressure was taken with what looked like an old mercury sphygmomanometer with a dial and a stethoscope; the memories of the traditional ways flooded back, before I was chaperoned back to the dressing room.

As I left the biopsy room, I was offered tea and biscuits. I had my first urination which was clear, dressed up and filled in a survey. Results in 2 to 3 weeks, an ordeal in some way and probably a lifesaving act of catching something early.

My advice is not to be too coy about men's things, better to be under medical supervision with knowledge of what needs to be done, than leaving it out of fear or machismo.

It may not be a rite of passage, but I was first at the urology department this morning, and then more chairs were set up, it was like the Church of the Prostate Screening, many men come to worship there, in silent contemplation of what life ahead might be. I had humour to offer that made some laugh. God help us all.

Reference

Diagnosis of prostate cancer: the implications and proper utilization of PSA and its variants; indications and use of MRI and biomarkers [Canadian Journal of Urology] February 2020. (PDF)

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Blog - Men's things - II

A reflection on delaying instant gratification

The many gigs I overlooked

As I was walking around Manchester last night, I realised that Take That was playing at the AO Arena for 4 nights, having been moved from the unfortunate poor launching of the Coop Live venue in Manchester.

When they launched in 1990, I thought the 5 boys were some of the sexiest boys on the scene, I appreciated them more for their ability to dance and bringing such great energy to their performances. In those early years, they played the gay clubs in London and elsewhere. Indeed, Madonna, Kylie Minogue, and Anastacia among others have played at these venues too. Gays were probably their first big fans.

I guess I was not too keen on attending overly crowded venues. The music in Heaven and Bang was also too loud, you could hear and feel your eardrums beating, and it became unbearable after a while.

Fixing the issues happily

However, what came to mind was the memory of how I refused monetary reward for helping fix computer problems which even led to greater appreciation and gifts. In Nigeria, as I worked for IT Systems on the ground floor, there were occasions when Deji Sasegbon Publishers upstairs who were in the race to publish the Nigerian Supreme Court Cases would have an issue and ask for an engineer to visit and resolve it.

I would go up, fix the problem in 5 minutes and be on my way when Deji or D-Shash, as he was known to all, would dip in his pocket to give me 50 Naira, which was a quarter of my salary, I refused the offer, waving it aside that the issue was hardly worth anything. This happened a few times and I think he took my gesture to heart.

I left IT Systems to go into self-employment that everyone around me thought was crazy, yet, I was comfortably earning 10 times my salary from IT Systems, just teaching people about computers and even so, desktop publishing.

The result of delaying gratification

Before long, word got around about this desktop publishing whiz kid and Deji invited me for a conversation about being a desktop publishing consultant for his firm. His offer was broad and generous, not offering employment, flexible hours, attending a few days in the week, guiding, and teaching his team, whilst taking on some projects. The remuneration was a stipend and my ticket to the UK was paid for, whenever I was ready to travel.

The stint got me a few other jobs along with a directorial partnership with a legal firm that veered into desktop publishing from traditional printing, we called the outfit NextStep Limited, and I had 30% of the firm. I made my first visit to the UK in a while under the auspices of our firm to acquire equipment and software for our fledgling firm. Sadly, our venture did not last because my partner was not accustomed to the personality and confidence of a self-assured young man. I got on better with Deji, in all respects.

After returning from my business trip to the UK, I began to plan for my return as I saw opportunities to thrive and succeed, despite the odds and the impressions others had for my lowly academic qualifications despite my rather advanced computing skills.

Free tickets as great reward

In any case, I found myself fixing what in my view were minor computing problems for friends and acquaintances, never taking money from them because I felt those issues were insignificant. This laid up store for other rewards. Two tickets for Micheal Jackson, Earth Wind & Fire, and Bryan Adams, amongst many along with tickets for innumerable West End shows, none of which I could normally afford, but I would receive as gratitude for my help.

Then there were gifts and presents, even offers to spend as long as I wanted at villas by the sea that I never took up because I did not appreciate the value of such gestures. I know better now. It made me reflect on how delaying instant gratification does lay in a store a greater reward from the appreciative and many never forgot to extend that generosity at any opportunity they found to so do.

Life matters more than work

Invariably, while money does matter, it is not everything. It informs why I have preferred working in Europe where we have workers’ rights baked into any contractual agreement including the right to holiday and much more. I appreciate that Americans might earn a lot more for the kind of work I do, but none of them can take up to 10 weeks off a year and still have enough for the enjoyment of a work-life balance that emphasises life helping work be more productive.

Building goodwill helps networking and references that make for the essential connections in work and life. I am thankful that what I have gained from many of these relationships has been worth more than money can buy. Cultivate relationships over remuneration, and the rewards will always follow.

Keep on keeping on

The Gift of Today

"Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a GIFT. That's why it's called the present." Bil Keane

The quote above in full or in part is usually credited to many people, though the consensus suggests it was originally by Bil Keane, who was a cartoonist. This gives life to the idea in a Yoruba saying “Ibi eré la tíí mọ òotọ́ ọ̀rọ̀.” This translated to, it is a play that you get to learn the truth. You wonder how a cartoonist might have come to write something so profound.

The gift of today is a moment of reflection on the journeys completed in the yesterdays of the past, the blessings that I remember today of goodness, mercy, and favour that nothing has been in vain, and the hope that tomorrow brings.

Holding back from doing

A poor anticipation of the future has sometimes impacted my reasoning for things of life and experience, the things I have held back from doing or considered too onerous because I felt such limitations of infirmity and uncertainty, now leave me amazed at how the passage of time has revealed that I need not have been apprehensive. I should have used the opportunity when presented to do what ability and facility offered.

Recently, it has been the spirit of perseverance and tenacity that has undergirded me even if through adversity you feel the pain as any semblance of winning or success seems even more distant as each day passes.

Yet, I had to keep believing and pressing forward using every help and support that I could access to get beyond the struggles that defined the recent past in the loss of confidence, the disappointments, the failures, the rejections, and the nearly-there situations that fell through.

Keep at it, keep on moving

At a conservative estimate, there have been over 600 applications from someone nearly 60 years old, a veteran of my industry who should be considering retirement, but still has the energy and passion for the career that has given me opportunities to walk into places I could never have imagined possible with the trajectory I took.

As you live, you have to continue living, striving to be the best you can be at what you do until those who will appreciate, honour, and respect you come your way and take you on. Having a long-term condition should not be definitive and the conclusion of ambition or goals. I have mostly resisted the tendency to accentuate any vulnerability in the face of the gifts of compelling ability that I possess.

Believe in yourself above all

Something in the example and the observation of my parents has given me that sense of self-esteem and even projection that is a grace in my life opening doors, hearts, and hands. I am blessed. You cannot faint, but you have to chart your own course, working at your own pace, avoiding the pressure of fulfilling the requirements of other apparently vested interests who usually mean well, but are not at particular times helpful.

Keep on doing what you know to do because you are the best at knowing yourself and what you can do. Stretch yourself as best you can to the challenge that presents and believe yourself enough to be up to the task either in the ability to do it or in the facility to find the wherewithal to succeed.

Remember to appreciate your journey

The history of yesterday bears in its passing the gift of today, and cherishing the gift of today prepares you for the mystery that offers the surprise of what that next gift is. 

Never forget those who have carried you on the journey that in its difficult and wilderness times did not falter or sway. The many promises others made but could not keep only come to show how much you had in store without believing in the arm of flesh that fails you when you need it most.

It should not be held against them, for as we know, human beings are of such limited resources and abilities, for me, Almighty God has sustained me and brought people and angels my way, too numerous to number. I am loved, in love, borne in love, and overwhelmed by love. This is my story, and this is my song.

Nothing stays the same, the glorious morning will eventually set the night on its way into the eternal past; the present gift of today lets you know that you have everything to go for, and by pressing on, you are getting on to winning too.

Snippets caught of things said absently

In conversations badly recalled

In the fiery breast of a pigeon,
Burning with a life of Tabasco excess,
You forget to remember what had been,
The Vaselining of the throat for redress.

Suggest a remedy of salting your tea,
Deception wrought with a pocket full of ink,
Would the plumbing at midnight be,
With a pair of legless glasses as you blink?

Nobody Does It Better

The music to my ears

Against all the odds, there is a spirit that drives us to that point where we are selflessly committed to something that matters. To me, there is so much music that I am familiar with, but I have not given myself the time to listen fully to the lyrics and appreciate the quality of songwriting and expression that went into the song.

Yesterday, I was listening to the music of James Bond films with orchestral support that was performed about two months ago and being broadcast on BBC Three. This was just after I had returned home from a long day, I even took the tablet into the bathroom to listen as I took a shower, I was enthralled. [BBC: Bond… James Bond] Only available to listen to in May 2024 before it is archived.

Indeed, a James Bond song

The many performers of James Bond theme music, going back to 1962, I began wondering and thinking, I did not know this was the original sound as they played through the repertoire of amazing sounds rearranged and performed by contemporary artists.

Nobody Does It Better, the theme song to The Spy Who Loved Me, written by Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager, the latter who suggested this was such an incredibly vain song that it naturally fell to Carly Simon you had sung You’re So Vain to give this ballad the full rendition it deserved.

If I remember correctly, we had a film night in boarding school, probably in early 1978, and that was when I first watched, The Spy Who Loved Me, I can only remember the last scene if anything. But we were and maybe remain lifelong fans of James Bond and the James Bond spirit.

Having the joy of the best love

Yet, as I have found out, whatever the inspiration behind any creative work of expression, how it is listened to, understood, and appreciated by others cannot be accounted for. It was written about the apparent sexual prowess of James Bond, I listened to it intently yesterday as a narrative of how the unexpected blossoming of love becomes a story of deep gratitude for having met someone to whom saying, “Baby, You’re the best”, doesn’t even begin to describe the blessing you have encountered.

That is how I feel towards Brian, “I wasn't looking, but somehow you found me”, that first embrace told me peace and comfort, I knew I would never love this way again because what I have is perfect. Thank you for loving me so unconditionally and so very supportively. I never say that enough.

Thought Picnic: Know when the conversation is no longer helpful

Be careful with how you listen

I can understand how people can be wearied by situations, circumstances, or adversities affecting others, especially in situations where they are somewhat unable to help.

Then, in those settings, some try to contribute to the general narrative and outlook in the hope of better outcomes, and that is what we all wish for.

However, how that contribution and support is delivered might have other unintended consequences. Having grown up in a setting that was not as effusive with praise as it could be of criticism, rebuke, admonition, and comparison, advantageous to one side of the argument that believed in right and might, you begin to grow a thick skin to the negative.

Notice when the tone begins to change

For a while, I instituted a weekly conversation where I relayed issues affecting me in the hope that helpful and supportive counsel might ensue from the experience and knowledge of life that far exceeded mine. Indeed, it was very useful until it was not.

Laced with the encouraging words of concern, love, and affection were the inadvertent slips of candour that began to negate the purpose for which these conversations continued. The slow drip of weariness at a situation not changing began to take its toll. I endured it for a while until the cumulative effect called for a termination of this conversational construct.

Cut off the negative promptly

It was no longer helpful for me, I needed to sequester myself from the unhealthy even if it all meant well. It behoves us all to constantly review and assess the kinds of conversation we engage with, curate the people who speak into our lives and circumstances, cultivate the supportive, discern the disruptive, and close out the negative.

An emotional detachment regardless of the relationship is called for, it is something that I have found necessary to do, even from childhood. For all that we aim to cherish, never adhere to that which might perish.