Hotstepping into a magnetic resonance experience

Walking with a cane

For 20 years in December, I have used a walking cane. This was to help with the pain that I felt in my lower back for about a decade and there were times I had my much lighter partner stand on my back just to ease the pain.

The pain was exacerbated by standing still in queues or sauntering, I needed to be moving well or sitting down not to experience the pain. At times I have spoken about the pain either in the chest on my ribcage or in my back to my GP, and they have tried to put me in the scheme of enduring it rather than treating it. The walking cane gave more than the support and comfort to reduce or avoid the pain, altogether.

Obviously, when I got my first walking cane, it was a long black rod with an ivory ball to hold onto, as from the beginning I had decided whilst the walking cane was not a fashion accessory if you were to use a walking cane, get a good and fashionable one. Eventually, after trying many kinds of canes I have settled for Derby canes that have a rounded hook that could be hung over the wrist or the arm, hands-free.

Let’s have a closer look

In a conversation with my consultant a few weeks ago, we talked about my use of the walking cane which in addition became even more pertinent when I had cancer in my right foot some 14 years ago that I could not walk using the leg for almost 6 months. She proposed we have a scan of my spine to determine why I was having the back pain and if anything could be determined from that review.

Today, I attended a radiology session for an MRI scan of my spine without contrast. The without contrast part suggested I would not have ink injected into my veins to provide contrast in observing other organs in my body. I read up on the notes and was sure no adverse effect was expected as I had no metallic enhancements or augmentations had been done to my body. At least nothing I have consented to except if one had been abducted by aliens.

Stillness and noisiness

Having filled out the consent forms, the nurse invited me to the waiting room before the radiographer called my name and ushered me towards the theatre. At first, I was assigned a locker to put in my valuables, watch, love bangle, wallet, and satchel bag. I only had to take off my jacket and leave my cane outside.

I sat on the MRI gurney and as I was about to lift my legs to lay on the bed, I was told it might take 30 minutes when I planned for 10 minutes tops, I had to remain still, and the device was a disturbingly noisy thing that you needed earplugs and headphones. I had heard much about the containment from others with claustrophobic tendencies, and I decided not to be regaled by any more of their sordid tales.

As I lay down and set myself for the experience, I decided to close my eyes as the headphones belted out Ini Kamoze’s Here Comes The Hotstepper, certainly not what you want to be hearing in a magnetic tube, but that was what was on offer rather than the calming strains of classical music that I suggested might be a better offer.

Slipped out of it and sleep

I drifted off as the three shrill sounds suggested my insides were being peered into without intrusion, the wonders of medical science for which a controversial Nobel Prize was awarded in 2003. [The Lancet: The Nobel prize for MRI: a wonderful discovery and a sad controversy]

There were times I opened an eye, but I never gave thought to the idea I was in an enclosed space. Then the gurney slid right out, and we were done with a commendation from the radiographer that I took the session really well.

I got fully dressed up, collected my things and returned home, an interesting experience and in a few weeks, I should get a review of what was seen.

All preventative protections matter

Easy on the body

The day after I returned from Cape Town, I attended a walk-in vaccination centre for the spring booster I was invited for by my GP through a text message when I was away. I had taken the Pfizer/BioNTech Comirnaty mRNA vaccine for my first two jabs in February and May, then the first booster in November, but they only had the Moderna Spikevax mRNA vaccine, and I was fine with that.

A few days later, I was asked if I would like to queue up for the Monkeypox vaccine, but I was not up to it, I had probably overloaded my body that was first acclimatising from a southern hemisphere winter to a northern hemisphere summer along with the mild side effects of the other vaccine, it would have been quite unwise to then take on another vaccine, even if I could have coped well.

Public notices are hard

The next weekend had another queue for the Monkeypox vaccine, but the eligibility criteria on every reading failed the plain English test in my view as it seemed to exclude a critically vulnerable cohort that I belonged, and even at their third attempt after many remonstrations, it did not improve until I got a personal assurance on Twitter that our cohort was not excluded.

It would have just taken a slight modification of citing minimum eligibility that would have been inclusive rather than what seemed to be a narrowly defined set of criteria that gave more access to the less vulnerable just because they attend had attended the public health clinics in the last 12 months and they were on Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis (PreP).

Not in the weather forecast

Anyway, for a 9:00 AM opening of the doors, I took a cab to the venue arriving at 8:10 AM and the queue was already about 150 deep. I had checked the weather and it suggested a clear day, but within 20 minutes, there was a turn, and it was raining. Many of us did not have any protection against the elements, I just opened a large Aldi shopping bag over my head, as a covering.

It did not seem it would let up, so I came to an agreement with the men ahead and behind me to rush home to get umbrellas for our protection. I called a cab and by then, there was a downpour, got home, picked up 4 umbrellas, a waterproof jacket, a poncho, some bottles of water and snacks, and then returned to the queue that had moved up about 30 places.

Come up hither

Giving the men umbrellas, though they refused the drinks, I was informed that they had all been given tickets in my absence. I went up to the coordinator to get a ticket afraid that I would now be put at the end of the queue that now had about 250 people, but on seeing my walking cane, he offered that I got straight in and take a seat instead. Much as I do use a walking cane, I do not consider myself having accessibility problems, and I do need the cane most of the time as I have used one for over 19 years.

I did remonstrate, but he insisted, so I had a chat with the men I left in the queue and went into the temporary premises to take a seat. Soon, I was offered forms to fill in and I found myself meeting much more than the minimum criteria, I was ticking 3 boxes of medical establishments where I got my care amongst other things. I point I made earlier stands; the communication was poorly written.

Having filled in the form, my answers were verified in a caller-response engagement and then I was given the Monkeypox vaccine. All done and out by 9:27 AM. The weather was looking better, and the men felt they did not need the umbrellas, gave them back and I walked back home.

Just allaying our concerns

Apart from a little soreness in the arm and maybe an incidence of the runs over 2 or so days, I am fine. Indeed, Monkeypox was a bit of a concern and that coming still in the midst of the Coronavirus pandemic did not make for comfortable reading. The fact that the most affected demographic in Europe and over in the United States are gay men, exacerbated concerns. The supplies were usually exhausted before everyone in the queue was served apart from the last time.

I guess in all we were trying to avoid a situation where this advent of another communicable disease leads to labelling and stigmatisation. It just happens that the community and social constructs of the gay persona might well expose one to this situation more than in other settings.

Taking precautions and preventative measures are the options we have availed ourselves of. Then again, the other part of this narrative is how my desire to be of a little help offered the consideration by reason of my slight handicap to be seen earlier than would have been the case.

Then to the vulnerable, all preventative protections matter, be they vaccines or any other medical advice proffered that would give us a fighting chance against infection or disease. Some do suggest there is no need for another booster, I think I keep myself informed enough to know that when my doctor or consultant does suggest some precautions, that is most likely in my best interests.

Thought Picnic: These Legs Were Made For Walking

The passage of time

Sometimes, there is so much going on and so much to write about but one is not presented with the inspiration to commit the thoughts and happenings to the structure of a blog.

Milestones and dates have come and gone, some, one wants to remember, others, one will love to forget be those landmarks 31 years, 9 years, 2 years or even 10 months – we count the passage of time for blessing and thankfulness or for dread of a past that would be best part of the long distant past.

The pain and the cane

However, I have been interested in sharing some news about my health. For 8 years, I have used a cane for problems with back-pain initially and then the loss of muscle-mass as a result of the lack of use of my left leg which was most affected by the cancer lesions on my sole.

For over a year, I have struggled with the problems of a weak leg, the exhaustion of walking and a unbalanced gait that resulted from having weaker leg. The cane appeared to steady my walk and give me just that little extra for traction, albeit considerably slower than other pedestrians.

Strength returning

I discovered the fun of cycling about half a year ago and I have gone to places I have never ventured by bicycle unaware that I have to stamina to make such journeys. Maybe it was just the matter of means, opportunity, will and ability, but I have noticed some really good results.

It has now gone 4 weeks since I stopped using my cane, there were times I have packed my 3-piece bolt-up cane in my bag, I do that no more. I have given up the use of the cane and had not need to use even an umbrella for support when I was out the other day.

Not a fashion statement

There are people who have thought the cane was a throw-back to some genteel age of being dandy and proper, much as one did at times have that appearance, the purpose was hardly for fashion or airs.

I would not have thought a time will come when I will not need the cane again and for that I am thankful and grateful to God as well as happy that I am discovering a new age of youthfulness.

That is, I think, a good update to share.

The almost curse of being particularly particular

Penthouse office views

We moved into a brand new office block this week and it was wonderful to move from a cellar to a top floor office.

I have however wondered how we ended up in the 5^th floor and the big-wigs on the 2^nd, hopefully, it not suggesting anything as Machiavellian as being so close to the airport.

In any event, we have the view of the airport, runway and hangars on the one side and a major road sided by a canal and a typical drawbridge for canal traffic on the other side.

It means after getting to Schiphol Airport by train, I have to board another bus; free of charge because an arrangement between the company and the bus company allows for free travel in the environs of the airport.

That seat is reserved – for us

I had kept my peace and even endured the journey standing once, but I decided not to do that again – the buses have upholstered seats with visible repeated signs of the pregnant, the nursing mother and supposedly the infirm – depicted as someone with a cane.

Now, I use a cane and not for the reasons of re-enacting Edwardian England, my back has been a bit troublesome though not as bad as it used to be – as I got on the bus, the able, the young and overly active made for these priority seats; I was having none of it as I pointed out to them – these are priority seats not reserved for you.

None looked pregnant, with suckling infants or with anything to aid their mobility, so before I got to the point of being forceful, a seat was yielded and I had the basic comfort of getting to work.

I do not normally rush for those seats if other seats are available but when every seat is occupied, well those who need them have priority over those who usurp them.

The bane of being particularly particular

What should not happen is the tendency to become particularly particular with an eye out for those who ignore the obvious – one trait in need of amelioration is that feeling of irksomeness when one sees these things.

Bags on seats, rushing in at entry points, bicycles beyond traffic signs, bicycles on footways, people standing in the way ignoring the fact that they are in the way – what a fuss-pot I’ve become.

Loathing and primed to correct, but without horn-rimmed spectacles and shrill voice to boot – I probably need therapy or have to live in a different world – but for now, we’ll just manage as much as possible not to be too aggravated by it all – we can’t all be so proper.

Hanging on to nothing

Hanging onto nothing

Subconsciously, one visits the gents at work and makes to put ones jacket up and the coat hook is not there. It was there last week.

Maybe the other toilet and the coat hook there is gone too – somebody tell me why anyone would remove coat hooks from toilets.

Now, I rarely walk around the office without my jacket on, in fact, it is almost always on, I wear suits with material that keeps its durable look without getting unnecessarily crumpled.

This development was certainly very uncomfortable for me I had to lodge a report with our support office presaging my complaint with the statement that it was a bizarre question but one that needed to be asked.

A valet I require

I have no respect for a restaurant that does not have the means for keeping my overcoat, hat and cane in good order.

Sometimes, I have to keep my hat on walking through buildings or shops until I have to converse with ladies or strangers just because the hat stand that used to be at the entrance of public places some 60 years ago has given place to sloppy and indecent modernity and unwholesome fashion.

I was almost apoplectic with rage when a concierge in a supposedly 5* hotel where I was attending a conference stuffed my hat down my coat sleeve. I could not believe my effects could be so damaged by an uncouth hireling, that hotel lost a good 4 stars in my estimation, I have not returned there since.

Why? O, Why?

You just cannot be in nature’s succumbed stance in your jacket; it makes you wonder about the office apparatchik who thought up the idea of ridding the toilets of the coat hook.

It would hardly save the planet or pull down the walls of safety in that private place; for that little but quite significant inconvenience, I had to empty my coat pockets and place my coat on back of my seat to visit the gents.

A simple act of vandalism

I would hope when they do realise that that act of vandalism has been noticed, somebody would make amends or going to the gents would not be as subconsciously routine as it once was.

Given that there are very few of us who wear suits to work, it does not mean we do not need coat racks, hat stands and brolly holders – a sudden discomfort close to proctalgia strikes one as it is possible they would be making off with the doors next.

Save us from rotten facilities management, please!

De excitement La Catalunya

Packing the world

One might say, wonder why one would be visiting Barcelona for a week for a conference without taking in the weekend. Well, I decided to sandwich the busy week into two weekends so my trip to Barcelona today and returning next Sunday.

I finally packed my bag after having just about an hour’s conversation with my brother in Nigeria, I still have not mastered the art of travelling light; I take so much and almost always end up forgetting what I want and packing what I never use.

Just because I thought I might run late, I called a taxi which turned back 5 minutes into the journey because I had forgotten my phone – all my appointments and contacts are in that thing, so I was glad that I did not use public transport or else that situation would have been impossible to redeem.

The comfort of having a Flying Blue Silver card – need to travel more – and the trappings of business class meant one could jump queues for check-in and security.

Cane must hit head hard

All went well till one jobs-worthy customs oaf said I could not take my cane on the plane because I did not need it to walk with the metal detector – how much of a foolish talk is that?

I have been through Amsterdam Schiphol Airport about 30 times this year and each time I have take my cane apart into its 4 constituent parts and put it all in the check-in tray, no complains, but today they had a chiropractor loafing around checking people’s backs I suppose.

Here I was mouthing through every ailment I ever had along with the occasional back pain that compels me to use the cane as if I now have to carry around a doctor’s certification that allows me to take a cane through customs.

Anyway, after such vehement remonstration bordering on anger as one begins to recognise the atrocious constrictions of this stifling war on comfort named war on terror, I got my cane, put it together, did the revise strip-tease of putting my things back on and walked away with a huff – as one of the customs ladies who had a semblance of humanity in her sinews gave me a smile.

Then off to the KLM lounge where the ladies at the reception succoured me and told me the fact that they had to suffer these indignities twice a day as part of their working at the airport, I suddenly did not feel too sorry for myself.

It was night to be addressed by name as I was served on the plane, a bit of turbulence and the view over the Pyrenees was as magnificent as you could get of any view from the air and then 10 extra degrees of Celsius warmth, one would not want to be anywhere else but in Barcelona.

Hotel, not hell

When I arrived at the hotel which was fully-booked from the Microsoft contact site but available through a full package booking on lastminute.nl which is become a neat way to book holidays lately, I was informed I would have a top-floor room with amazing views of Barcelona, I suspected I was being sold crap, but I had to see the room first.

I could hardly get my luggage into the room and this was with the help of the bellboy, single-bed and window only a balcony I could not reach, views of Barcelona – my foot! There was no way I would spend 8 nights in this shack of a pretend-penthouse squeeze.

Meanwhile, the reception had called up for my passport which the bellboy took away for a photocopy to be made; I called reception and asked for a bigger room, first I was given the spiel about standard single rooms and I offered to pay the extra cost to be upgraded; I think the bellboy informed them that I had offered a generous tip so I got another room, probably triple the size with a balcony that I could access and even sit 2 other guests – at no extra charge.

As usual, if you do not ask, you might as well suffer in silence and be eaten up by the utter inconvenience.

Wireless helpless

I got online as reception feigned complete ignorance about the WiFi service which had me calling the Swisscom helpdesk where a competent lady called Barbara took my call from Portugal and we both did the troubleshooting that indicated there were problems with DNS which we resolved after about 20 minutes on the phone.

I decided to go for a walk and had reception give me an idea of my bearings, the metro station was just across the road and getting a ticket required a bank card which I swiftly retrieved from the hotel.

And the ticket machine swallowed my card – I consciously said to myself, this is not want I need in order not to say the clichéd “Just what I need”.

Thankfully, the transport security guys were there and they got to station supervisor to retrieve my card before my holiday went tunnelling into desperate despair.

The night had only begun, I should be out for dinner soon and one can only say Barcelona would be fun.

Gosh! I'm in London again

London incognito

My sojourn to London this time is somewhat impromptu and unannounced; even though one had opportunity to announce long before time, spontaneity depending on scheduling and time allowing might just bring me in contact to the realists of my blog world.

Air travel never ceases to amaze, I have been through a time of flying as a kid, getting irrationally scared of air travel to the extent that I forsook my plane at the air for a 7-hour train journey to a point where I can better manage my anxiety, it does not bother me that much anymore.

I'm like a bird

However, when I think of the daring, genius and tenacity that made men put big metal vehicles in the air, take advantage of the air to traverse places and use the same to stop the aircraft, I am just too impressed for words.

Generally, I belong to the jet engine generation; there is no way you will get me to get in a turbo-prop even if I had to escape the savages of King Solomon's Mines, well, it might get me thinking.

But one thing I have noticed about Amsterdam Schiphol Airport is whilst it can be friendly to the elderly, handicapped or parents with young children, in that they can order a concourse vehicle to cart them around the airport, those with canes find that the elevators do not go to the connecting floors and we are not called forward to board flights first.

John Steed, I'm not.

I once had one long cane with a ivory ball for the handle, then acquired another which is quite versatile because I can take it apart - 4 bits that go into the customs check system - mercifully and thankfully, I do not have to take off my shoes.

It makes the cane easy to pack into my bag. So, when we landed at Heathrow and taxied around the runways till we all thought we were lost for 15 minutes we came to a standstill, when usually the impatient cannot wait for the seat-belt sign to go off before they open overhead bins and spill the contents on the sitting party.

I finally got my bag, took out the 4 pieces of cane and proceeded to put them together when another passenger surmised, good weapon - I had to remonstrate vehemently, it is my cane, nobody carries weapons onto planes and please do not get me into deep serious trouble.

Some people have been watching too much monochrome Avengers, that is not helped that I also wear a hat, this time, not my bowler hat, though.

Sign for me properly

Then, the beauty of reading English properly written - Please have your passports ready for inspection as opposed to the literal translation in Schiphol which reads Please keep your passport ready - it narks me off when these foreigners cannot avail themselves of native speakers such that I do not have to be welcomed in London.

I got to my hotel which is beside the British Library, one should walk in and have a look, and much has been said about the architecture and more.

Stranger in my room

Just as I settled in my room, I had a shower, dried off and wist not that I was unclothed because I was covered with glory when my door opened.

Stranger: Oh!

Moi: What are you doing in my room?

Stranger: Reception, gave me this room.

Moi: Well as you can see, it is not your room, it is mine, this is outrageous.

Stranger tries to divert my vitriol to blame the reception for a sloppy job, I am having none of it.

Moi: Please close the door now; make sure you are not sent back here.

Stranger, scolded and angry walks away closing the door rather than slamming it, well, that would have been the end of him as he would have been defenestrated.

Why did I go for the stranger, well, I wanted to make sure he doubly expressed his displeasure at the reception, such that they do not mess it up again?

20 minutes later, my television goes off and a name; not mine appears on the screen, my second call to reception would not hear of the excuses that the system is down, I am having none of this nonsense in a 4-star hotel, it just does no augur well for my custom and their brand.

When I show my face at reception, well, maybe, it is best to leave out the tip when checking out.

What would we do without computer systems, what makes us thorough and meticulous has been lost that excuses suffice for unforgivable simple mistakes - not good, not good at all.