The many tests of a patient waiting in patience

A Week to Fathom

What a weekend that was, or rather, let us consider the full week, because the thought of all that transpired is hard enough to fathom.

Fresh from the good news of my PSA having fallen to its lowest level, buoying my confidence in the radiotherapy for prostate cancer, I was having chest pains that led to my attending A&E first thing on Monday.

That was one unplanned visit to the hospital. The result was reassuring; it was nothing serious, just musculoskeletal pain that some bed rest could help.

Good News, Then Distress

Friday was the main day scheduled for my biannual monitoring at the Christie Hospital. Going there never ceases to be as impactful as it is critical to saving lives. It is a visit to a renowned cancer hospital to review my PSA result and discuss the attendant issues from radiotherapy.

That went well, so I stopped by Nando's for a meal and used the opportunity to call Brian. Halfway through my meal, after our call had ended, I had a choking episode. I won’t suggest this is a longer-term side effect of radiotherapy, as dysphagia, and I have not considered if it could have exacerbated it; I’ve had choking episodes going back decades.

Thankfully, I had enough napkins to contain the relief in bringing it all back up. Not a beautiful sight, and no one noticed I was in distress either. I cleaned up in the conveniences and returned home to lie down.

Saturday Takes a Turn

Whilst that should have resolved things, as I do usually have episodes of choking on food, this one was different. Some cereal before midnight did not go down, likely due to food impaction, an obstruction, or inflammation in my throat. I threw up in the toilet and decided to postpone my pills for a few hours.

The pills did eventually go down, and I had a lie-in for most of Saturday into the afternoon.

Getting up, I made a cup of tea. I thought I had drunk the full mug, but there was pressure in my throat and quite a bit of discomfort. I had to throw up again.

The tea came up with some mucous-like substance that fell to the bottom of the toilet bowl. That was concerning. I was about to return to A&E for another ailment.

A Night in A&E

Calling an Uber, I made it to the hospital soon enough, though as I alighted, I was sick in the bushes before being triaged. From then on, I was vomiting a thickened, mucous-like substance every thirty minutes or so into a sick bowl.

Just about two hours after arrival, I saw a doctor. She gave me a drink of water, which seemed to stay down. I have not vomited after that. I was then referred for a possible endoscopy and left in the Emergency Room for two hours.

Then another doctor called me in for review. We agreed on an experiment: I would have a sandwich and a drink, and if that stayed down, I was to be discharged for further outpatient review. If I could not keep the food down, it would mean hospital admission, nil by mouth, and a possible endoscopy on Monday to identify the obstruction.

The food stayed down, but it was left waiting for a few hours before I received an email notification; an after-visit message; it was sent 30 minutes earlier. Apparently, I had been discharged, and no one had bothered to inform me. I left the hospital over eight hours after arriving. It was almost 2:00 AM.

The Weight of Being Alone

I appreciate that these matters take time. Anyone attending A&E is busy juggling the precarity of their situation that brought them to the hospital with the need to keep others informed, especially if they are alone in that predicament, and that is just the way it is.

I have every reason to want a better situation, to be in a hospital with someone. Everyone else seemed to have someone with them, but as one person, you are a container of the reflexes of concern, anxiety, or even panic of others about you. You must wonder whether it is necessary to inform anyone during the crisis or only after it has passed.

There is an emotional toll involved in the desire for information and details. I have had calls whilst a doctor's stethoscope was feeling around my body, calls I have had to ignore.

My going to the hospital should be part of accepting that the right decision has been made and that I am in good hands. Not much can be helped beyond everyone holding their nerve, thinking good thoughts, and praying for the best outcomes.

Everything takes time, and the patient patiently waiting for answers and assurances, first for themselves before finding the form of words for dissemination to others who duly need to be informed, is probably the most impacted by it all.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

How Charles de Gaulle Fails Woefully at Customer Assistance

An Experience Best Forgotten

My experience at Charles de Gaulle (CDG) Airport in Paris yesterday evening is one to be forgotten for all time. As someone who has used a walking cane for decades, this airport poorly manages access for those with mobility issues. The walks are long, lifts are usually out of service, and toilets are rarely situated near where you need them.

After radiotherapy treatment for prostate cancer in 2024, I have requested airport Customer Assistance for all legs of my journey, but this is the first time I have passed through CDG. In Manchester, Amsterdam, and Cape Town, beyond the issue with easily accessible toilets for those in the assistance pool, there was information, consideration, assistance, and personnel to do the job.

Unprepared and Understaffed

Even though Air France-KLM was aware of my request for almost three months, their preparedness for it at CDG left much to be desired. We arrived at the end of a 12-hour flight from Cape Town, and there was no one at the gate to collect the three of us who needed assistance. I had to ask the flight crew what the situation was.

I was assured they would be with us soon, but one lady arrived with a wheelchair to convey three of us. She applied almost octopus-like skill to laden herself with our carry-on luggage, and we basically had to walk the few hundred yards through security to the waiting area. The information was muddled and unclear, but we waited until a shuttle bus arrived.

Neither Voice Nor Agency

Our boarding passes were in the hands of the personnel, being passed around between them to our collective discomfort. Each time, someone had to ask if the boarding passes were still around. Many of the personnel we encountered at this international airport spoke to us in French. It was uncomfortable.

In the end, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would be delivered to wherever we needed to be, because our incapacity seemed to be a debilitating disability for which we had neither voice nor agency. Delivered to the gate, my boarding pass was checked, but I was barely noticed when we were asked to board.

A Systemic Failure

From this experience, if you have mobility issues, CDG must be avoided at all costs. This is not an issue with the people at the front line delivering the service; rather, it is a management failure laid bare. Totally unacceptable and utterly despicable. "Appalled" does not begin to describe what should warrant the high point of a one-star review of this service—dishonest at best.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Speaking Truth to Leading Questions

The Art of Honest Feedback

Sometimes, you are asked questions to which people may dislike the answers, especially when offering an unfiltered, honest opinion rather than trying to please or ingratiate. Much as I attempt to be circumspect, deploying the best use of language, spoken or written, to express yourself is a skill you should never waste.

It is preferable that people are fully aware of a situation rather than deluded into believing everything is fine. Knowing how to make yourself understood with complete clarity, without deception, is a skill that differentiates a machete from a scalpel.

However, I sometimes wonder, when invited to complete an anonymous survey, whether my honest views might reveal my identity. I suppose that’s to be expected. If you don’t want honest answers, don’t ask leading questions.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Mastering the interest in interesting

Interestingly Misunderstood

I have always been fascinated by how the English are viewed by others. There are websites and social media pages devoted to the fact that we are frequently misunderstood: what we have said may not necessarily represent the truth of what we mean.

One such word comes to mind: “interesting”. It does not essentially mean I am interested; it could readily mean I am bored and disengaged.

Then, on the matter of interest, I have had people who have shown interest in me, but their interest in me does not automatically become mutual. Whilst I am entertaining your interest, I would rather you were also engaging and developing my interest in you too.

Interestingly Selfish

What irks me most about these kinds of interactions is that they ask all the questions and volunteer nothing about themselves. I notice this quite easily and urge them to engage in a form of information exchange, hoping that self-awareness would prompt and convict them of selfishness, so they relent without further persuasion.

My patience, however, begins to wear thin, because dialogue is always better than being the cynosure. At least I hope I am not so vain as to need the klieg lights focused on my façade and bearing.

Interestingly Boring

In one such encounter where their interest was overbearing, but after all the exchanges I had learnt nothing about them, I combined the polite with the direct and asked, “What really makes you interesting?” Their answer was, “I like you.”

That kind of flattery might work for most, but if my question were to be properly interpreted and translated to the understanding of the person who was very much an Englishman as I, what I meant was, “You are boring me; please make an attempt to make this conversation worthwhile before I make my excuses.”

Fortunately for me, they failed to grasp the import of my veiled impertinence. When I made my excuses, I also intimated that I had better things to do with my time. In resignation, they said, “Okay!” as I rescued myself from an untenably excruciating and forgettable encounter.

Interesting, you might say, but I was so uninterested I was driven to the arms of disinterest, and it could not have happened to a nicer interlocutor, as they find someone else to bore to death.

The shibboleth of fluency

Strangeness in the familiar

The languages we use in communication can determine how our use of words, structure, grammar, and style makes us winners or losers.

Conversation is a kind of interaction where we innately know the rules that confer belonging, distinguishing us from those who fall foul of them. However, it is placenames that defeat the foreigner in ways almost insurmountable.

When I lived in Holland, it was the beach town of Scheveningen that set the allochtoon apart from the autochtoon, until we eventually mastered the pronunciation. Any American visiting London would easily stand out whilst looking for Leicester Square or Southwark. When I do not hear 'southern' as 'surthen', I know who has travelled from afar.

Twinning the dissimilar

In South Africa, my Dutch exposes my foreign background; the placenames I pronounce in Dutch are barely recognisable to the locals.

This is where the identical needs closer observation to notice the difference. The twin test works like a linguistic shibboleth. Present someone with two nearly identical siblings and ask them to distinguish between them. The local spots the difference immediately; that distinctive mole, that particular smile, whilst the outsider sees only sameness. A casual glance reveals similarities, yet that tiny detail remains the tell.

So, it is with language. Just as twins operate in near-perfect synchrony, bewitching you with their sameness, you might navigate an entire conversation in flawless grammar. But stumble over 'Scheveningen', and the shibboleth has caught you. South Africans hear my Dutch-inflected Afrikaans and immediately spot what doesn't belong, differences imperceptible to my ear yet glaringly obvious to theirs.

Speaking so good

Tongue-tied to the point of speechlessness, you imagine running your hand through their curly hair. They smile and suddenly, as if possessed, or rather inspired, the utterance from your lips is a fluency in Afrikaans for which a shibboleth would fail to ensnare. Sometimes attraction trumps the test; inspiration defeats the very mechanism designed to expose you.

Language draws the pictures in the mind, and even if we say the words wrong because an accent defeats us, there's probably enough in it not to be misunderstood.

Radio silence as good therapy

The Value of Relationships

The past two years, with all their trials, have offered a profound lesson in the importance of relationships; those that endure and those that falter. Relationships exist along a spectrum, from those that nurture our innermost selves to those that deplete us.

Against this backdrop, I have begun to treasure those rare connections where vulnerability is met with empathy, and where the bond transcends circumstance or convenience.

At the other end of the spectrum are exploitative and self-serving relationships, built purely on transaction. They thrive when needs are met but diminish rapidly when expectations go unmet, leaving little room for understanding or compassion.

No showing they care

Sadly, I find few examples of truly healthy family relationships. Expressions of care are often superficial, their evidence weak or absent. That realisation has prompted a deliberate withdrawal, a choice to preserve space for safety, clarity, and renewal.

As September unfolded, following months of chaos and emotional upheaval, I decided to impose complete radio silence on all communication from Nigeria. Messages remained unread, calls unanswered, and I extricated myself from group chats.

While part of me was unsettled by the choice, another part found unexpected peace in it. After thirty-five years away, much of what happens there no longer requires my attention. Most interactions involve people I have never met and could hardly recognise in passing.

Distance became both shield and salve. It allowed me to detach from the drama, rumours, and constant reinterpretations of events that once held power over my emotions. Too often, such narratives are presented as truth yet serve only to unsettle, casting doubt on where fiction ends and reality begins.

Nurture the profitable

This uncertainty highlights the fragile nature of some relationships, as they exhibit little evidence of trust or goodwill, with corrosive elements overshadowing any kind of beneficial aspects.

By carrying this silence into October, I found calm. The reward was a steady quiet, being neither perturbed nor disturbed. It allowed me to engage, when necessary, on my own terms, or more often, to refrain from engaging altogether.

We should constantly review the quality and viability of our relationships, regardless of what has hitherto made them significant, for they might have fallen into disrepair and become unprofitable.

If I sustain this until year's end, keeping close those who truly matter whilst maintaining distance from those absent in my darker hours, I believe I will emerge stronger and healthier. That, at least, is my conviction.

Adopting a healthy work regime after illness

Managing oneself back to work

My return to work after extended sick leave, was not structured or phased, because I did not plunge straight back into the work activities before my leave. Considering I worked through my radiotherapy treatment and for a month afterwards, despite the fatigue and sometimes-overwhelming side effects, I put in the hours, the time, and the effort to meet my obligations.

However, there was a point when I needed more support beyond living alone at home, along with a proper rest period to really recover. This led me to undertake the long journey to Cape Town for the care Brian could provide that was beneficial for my recovery.

I eventually spoke with an occupational health professional, who suggested we adjust the work schedule on the parameters of volume, pace, and complexity. I was comfortable with handling complexity; I was ready for that challenge. However, managing volume and pace was something I had to learn through engagement.

Handling pressure before feeling overwhelmed

Implicit in this approach was a sense of pressure; the way urgencies, priorities, and dependencies demanded more from me to meet deadlines, often without the usual flexibility that would involve discussing the reasonableness with relevant stakeholders.

There was one occasion when an architect, discovering that a crucial piece of work—on which the entire deployment depended—had fallen through the cracks, suddenly created a lot of pressure on me, with the message that everything would pause if I didn't find a solution.

At that moment, I felt like a giant had stepped on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Recognising this reaction, I pushed back at once, saying that we would proceed methodically, and I would not shoulder the pressure caused by this oversight.

At that time, I informed my line manager, not seeking support, but making him aware that the whole issue could escalate because of my resistance to quick fixes.

This architect then committed a clear faux pas by suggesting he entertain my concerns because he didn't want me to cut corners. That was a stance I was never going to let slip. I don’t cut corners; I am a 37-year IT professional. No one at the conference dared intervene; the message was crystal clear.

Maintaining control on your own terms

With the space and time, I was able to find the right elements needed to resolve the problem, and we implemented a solution within 90 minutes. Exercising autonomy without letting pace be dictated by either my own failings or others’ is essential.

Despite modulating elements of my return to work, I find myself in the office for 9 to 12 hours, sometimes more. I tend to get absorbed in a situation, aiming to resolve, manage, or finish the task before I leave for home.

This occurs alongside lingering side effects such as urinary incontinence, bowel urgency, and nightly insomnia. The insomnia, I manage by sleeping as much as I can on weekends. Things are not perfect, but I am finding better ways to cope than before.

In terms of occupational health, I simply wanted awareness about side effects, fatigue, and hospital appointments. Beyond that, I believe I am meeting and surpassing my aims and goals, but I also need to be smart about it.

Of bigger balls of discomfort

We, the vulnerable

Each visit to the hospital presents an opportunity to observe humanity at its most vulnerable and, at times, a few at their most irascible. It also showcases the society in which we live.

Illness does not selectively affect individuals based on class, race, status, or identity. There may be susceptibilities indicated by certain groups, but these are often ill-defined.

We all visit the hospital because something beyond our control has afflicted us, and we require assistance against whatever the onslaught may be.

Do the shower inspection

In the spirit of Men’s things, while I was in the shower on Saturday, I noticed my left testicle was swollen. Signs of this, the day before, led to the feeling that my underwear was a size too small. However, I ignored that indication throughout Friday until a shower inspection raised cause for concern.

We should all be doing a shower inspection and checking ourselves, examining our intimate parts for anything unusual. Men should check their testicles for swelling, hardness, lumps, redness, or heat, just as women should examine their breasts likewise.

As breast cancer can affect both men and women, we must also be mindful of assessing those parts too.

English as standard

While I acknowledge that during my time in the Netherlands, I never became as Dutch as might have been necessary, English was generally the language of transaction in business and all matters aside from government and politics.

In Dutch hospitals, the professionals, typically multilingual, would switch effortlessly to the preferred language of the patient.

I remember a 91-year-old Englishman in my ward nearly 16 years ago who had lived in the Netherlands for 50 years, and despite his fluency in Dutch, you could still hear that polished English accent from a bygone era.

How do they cope?

However, I was taken aback by the number of ethnic minority couples who visited the Accident and Emergency Department on Tuesday morning, who could barely communicate in Pidgin or broken English. Each relies on their spouses to register and relay their issues to the nurses and, eventually, doctors.

I was left pondering how they navigated society and how isolated some might feel. Whether any would receive a proper or complete diagnosis without the ability to speak for themselves is a concern. Imagine those with a rather stifling conservative background having to speak to strangers about intimate matters affecting their partners. Are the words for those issues the same ones we can comprehend?

Much as many of these couples were parents with children who had been schooled in English, exhibiting local and foreign accents confidently and expressively. No one under the age of 16 could act as a chaperone, due to safeguarding regulations. Invariably, it is probably for the best that children are not answering for their parents regarding their sex lives and similar subjects.

Bide your time

From triage through registration, basic checks, blood tests, and consultations that led to an ultrasound scan and ultimately a diagnosis. Everything pointed to inflammation, for which I was prescribed antibiotics.

At A&E departments in UK hospitals, arriving is the easiest part, even if you were blue lighted into resuscitation. Alright, perhaps that’s an exaggeration. One can expect to be there for a conservative estimate of six hours.

Take a book, a bottle of water, a phone charger, or better still, a power bank; let your patience be tested but do not suffer for the privilege of free healthcare at the point of access, regardless of status.

Thought Picnic: Big Brother contributing to the decline in human civilisation

An appeal to the savage

If reality television had an audience like me, that genre of entertainment would have long since died out like the dodo, never to be revived again, except for a retrospective on one of the darkest ages of humanity, where the surfeit of education and enlightenment, along with significant technological innovation, has made our behaviour resemble that of wild animals driven by nothing but survival instinct.

Readers of my blog are likely aware that I am hardly a fan of these unscripted interactions that caricature the worst of a few for the spectacle of the many. I have allowed myself the occasional glimpse into talent shows, experiencing some surprise or shock, especially from the unexpected gems that can bring tears of sadness or joy.

Our escape is not enviable

Everything I observe is usually through snippets and playback on YouTube, because something has crept into my social media feed, or it has been granted more importance in the news than is ever necessary, considering everything else happening in the world. Yet, these are seen as an escape or distraction, and somehow these fleeting shots of the dehumanisation of our civilisation have become hot topics of public engagement.

By now, you may have realised that one aspect of this reality television series encompasses every variation of the Big Brother shows, whether featuring celebrities or everyday people. At times, one might think that the money paid to celebrities to subject themselves to scrutiny, or the prize offered to public participants, lures them into this macabre theatre where humans are caged for titillation and entertainment. It is popular culture, sadly.

There is more to this—a quest for a spectrum of notoriety, alongside the cohesion or dispersal of virtue, expressed in word, deed, contest, chicanery, or some other unwholesome thing. People have gone on to forge careers from either fame or infamy displayed in these settings.

This theatre of the worst

In my view, Big Brother represents the absolute worst of everything; the house is, in fact, a cage. The 24-hour camera focuses on everyone, with edited versions of the sensational and controversial being spewed from a broadcast drainpipe, reeking of sickening human waste on our televisions.

It contains every element of an animal zoo, where curiosities taken from their natural habitat are brought to a location for our fascination. I have long since eschewed visiting zoological gardens or sea life centres that are nowhere near the sea.

I see in Big Brother a schemed setup that gathers many people with issues and problems better kept from view—opinions that should barely be invited into thought, fragile egos, those too easily offended, and others with rather forthright views considered too confrontational for the baseline of the insipid inclusivity that defies essential common sense.

Imagine placing a chicken, a fox, a cat, a mouse, a crocodile, a venomous snake, a mongoose, a lion, a deer, an elephant, a horse, and a hyena in the same cage and observing what occurs. Like prey and predator, the vulnerable and the inviolable, the aggressive and the docile, the fearful and the bold—every characteristic on display, all while the intervention against nature punishes each animal for acting out its known role.

Utterly thin-skinned lionhearts

Everyone knows that Big Brother does not present a paradise of easy coexistence, and this is where it gains its gawping audience, peering through the cages to observe examples of themselves portrayed by others. It is utterly, utterly loathsome, but then, each to their own.

The current Celebrity Big Brother, which features a range of forgettable has-beens, has invaded my timeline, leaving me to wonder how people fall apart at simple criticism of their abilities. The truth cannot be told about too many individuals who, due to their lack of communication and basic social skills, take offense at a look or a comment. The total absence of nuance or irony in a situation that participants have willingly subscribed to shows how ill-prepared they are for the kind of life many of us face.

Is that all he said? Or is that what they did? Then, there are many more questions along that line of thinking within the context of feigned political correctness, orchestrated niceness, and playing to the gallery.

Big Brother is both a reflection of a microcosm of the basest instincts of its participants and, for those of us engaged, either explicitly or by scant observation, we have become so civilised that we have lost all means of understanding what the advancement of civilisation truly means. Our brains are better stimulated by this tragedy of the jungle in a zoo of humans.

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.

Dispute Resolution 101: Make it a reasonable and respectful appeal to their good nature

The sweet fragrance of language

Just a few hours after someone suggested that the way I write is ornate, I had to dig into the reserves of that sometimes flowery and elegant use of the English language to dispute a penalty fine and write an appeal.

As I was about to pay for a service yesterday, I found that my bank card had been blocked, a penalty fine had been applied to my account that my bank in their probably aggressive fraud checks decided was questionable, so they held up the transaction and blocked my card.

Looking up what had happened, our local transport service provider had applied a penalty charge on my card for my journey back home from the hospital, I got a bit emotional.

Banking on prudent checks

My bank sent a text message early in the morning to ask if I recognised the transaction, I knew the vendor, but I did not recognise the one-handed cash grab, something inadvertent had happened, and this was grounds for appeal.

I disputed the charge, called the bank and at the third time of asking the obsequious and unintelligent bot, it handed me over to a human being. It eventually realised, “Can I speak to a human being?” meant just that.

The bank with their layers of security and protocols lifted the pending charge but said I must contact the vendor and be ready to prove that I had done that as part of the dispute resolution process. My card was unblocked, and then I logged on to the vendor site to address the matter of penalty fares.

Circumstances are part of the story

My visit to the hospital left me a bit troubled but I also wanted to stop along the way back home to do some shopping. Using my phone, I tapped the contactless reader at the beginning of my journey and disembarked at the next stop. 

That was where I had forgotten to tap out for that journey. 30 minutes later, after doing my shopping, I was back at the same stop where I tapped in again and remembering my earlier mistake, I tried to tap again, but the system indicated I was tapping in twice.

I boarded the tram and at the following stop ticket inspectors got on and checked passengers for evidence of valid travel tickets for their journeys, my phone bleeped their device and I thought that was the situation resolved. I then tapped out at my destination and walked home. The penalty charge of £60 came 2 days later.

The scaffolding of an appeal

Thankfully, my phone records the exact times of tapping the contactless reader, with all the series of taps documented. After filling in the mandatory fields on the vendor website, these were the characteristics of my appeal and dispute.

• I shared the circumstances and my state of mind after my hospital visit.
• I logged every instance of using the contactless reader and agreed that I might have forgotten to tap out at the first stop out of the distraction indicative of my hospital visit.
• I then detailed all the other encounters before appealing that these were extenuating circumstances to rescind both the penalty fine and any further proceedings related to the journeys of the said day.
• I closed my appeal by thanking them for their understanding.

Appeal by appealing to their good nature

Now, I have seen appeals and disputes written by some rather more erudite and learned people than me, everything suggested their appeal would not be successful for many reasons. They were angry, ranting and raving about the system, projecting their superiority and emotions into their arguments, and making demands and threats.

The whole reason for an appeal is to appeal to the good nature of whoever might read your disputation. You do this respectfully knowing they have a job to do, you invite them to walk in your shoes, so they are persuaded to see things from your perspective and engage others if there is an escalation, to agree with your viewpoint.

You appreciate what they do and ask for their consideration of what you desire, a refund without dragging out the dispute, then close the appeal with thanks.

Do what works not what rankles

The art of effective communication is in the use of language and the appreciation and respect of the reader. It has worked for me in many places, at work, in business, and in my general writing, especially for formal communication. Deploy the skill deftly.

When I need to be fierce, ranting, debunking, condemning, and excoriating, that only applies to other issues where I am not seeking a dispute resolution in an appeal process.

Yes, my appeal was successful, I will be refunded the penalty charge, that is what I wanted to achieve and nothing more. The lesson is that the tap-in tap-out system works best when there are barrier gates at the entry and exit points, else, if you forget, the system is not as forgiving as you might expect.

The person who reviewed my appeal did say, “As it appears you intended to touch in for this journey, we have upheld your appeal on this occasion. We will shortly be refunding £60 to your account and recalculate your charges for the day to what you would have paid had the correct touches been made.” They came onside and were amenable to my wishes. That is what matters.

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.

A play for time

Playing with time

Time is one of those things that seems immaterial to many, that the need to keep time is rarely important. While I am not obsessed with time, I like to have time, keep time, know time, take time, and use time. It matters in a lot of things, time is precious.

Yet, when it comes to setting appointments, I prefer to defer to others, and this might seem like ceding control to setting the agenda. We should not confuse agenda with schedule, the agenda is a series of points to discuss, and the schedule is when you have chosen to have that discussion.

I accept there might have to be adjustments for time, manner, location, and some other variables. However, when I concede the setting of the time to others, I already know I will be on time.

Playing on time

If you have then set the time and for whatever reason you have failed to keep to time, one element of irresponsibility has inadvertently been displayed, especially if parties to that arrangement have not been duly updated and informed you will be late.

Communication is key, but what I find amazing is for someone given all the opportunity to dictate the time not meeting conditions they had set for themselves and others.

I consider keeping people apprised as both a duty and a sign of respect. It is valuing their time, the idea of being fashionably late is pomposity passing for self-importance and insouciance.

Playing to time

Maybe punctuality is not a virtue, being punctilious saves you from avoidable stress in travel, appointments, and decisions.

There's not much to anyone who abuses or misuses time, wasting the time of others. Don't call me impatient if you are late, and if you are doing me a favour, please, do not take liberties too.

This brings me to African time and the picture I found in a restaurant convenience in Franschhoek, South Africa, my observation then was it was a bespoke watch, not for the purposes of keeping time.

African Time, Franschhoek, South Africa

Thought Picnic: Is blood really thicker than water?

Does blood matter?

“Blood is thicker than water.” Said a close relation of mine after I informed them of the visit of a couple, I knew from being related to them. I responded, “Communication is thicker than blood which is evidently thicker than water.”

Communication, engagement, and interest matter, it does not have to be through being able to communicate in material things, but the just checking on people, their welfare and wellbeing is of great consequence. It suggests you see more in them than the perfunctory.

Do I matter at all?

I recall one Sunday afternoon about thirty years ago when I met an old secondary school classmate on the train. As I acknowledged him, I did not get a greeting or any engagement, his first comment was, “Where do you church?” I cannot remember if I responded in any way, but I never wanted anything to do with him anymore.

Years after, he was picking up his daughter from school when I saw him outside a train station, I made my excuses about rushing off somewhere else and that kind of indifference has been such that when he was promoting an album in a later blooming of a music career, I observed the development alone and nothing else.

Do they care a hoot?

Further to this are those who make assumptions when they call you out of the blue. That was last week, nothing was asked of things they might have known before about me or my current situation. They just assumed and were expecting a confirmation of their beliefs that were much further from reality than could be imagined.

Obviously, I was remembered and contacted because they were interested in involving me in a family celebration, and if conversation and communication had been cultivated and maintained, I would have found it difficult not to attend, grace the occasion, and honour the celebrant. You cannot reap benefits or rewards from indifference.

Does anyone want to know?

Indeed, I have kept to myself because at times you do not want everyone in your business including those who believe they should be in your business or have some knowledge of what you are experiencing at any point in time. What I choose to volunteer here is probably available to a global audience, but the deeper elements of things would require someone to make the effort to communicate.

I am very grateful to those who have genuinely reached out to me to ask about my welfare, not because it is transactional, even if at one point there was means and opportunity to attend to many needs along with helping them out. In adversity, you know those who are your friends and well, the fair-weather ones too.

Do they see you?

One does not need to keep a journal of these things, the memory rarely suffers the amnesia of an absence of mind, Maya Angelou said it best, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Just think of the situation where they said little, did nothing, and made you feel disconsolate and rueful of your circumstances.

Know who to keep in mind, who to keep in prayers, who to keep in contact with and who to appreciate does not have a part in your life, not because you mean nothing to them, you are just not on either their short-range or long-range radar, your invisibility to them is why you think they are indifferent. It is not a bad thing to move on, if you’re out of sight, set your sight on other things.

Thought Picnic: Between writing and speaking

Effective and polite conversation

The art of communication and more so the one of being effective at it matters a lot. Even for those of us schooled in the old-fashioned use of language in courtesy, respect, grammar, and correct address, we must not be tempted to dispose of it for the sheer ease and modernity that attends to current trends.

Whether it be letters, emails, or text messages, I follow some basic and critical rules. The form of address along with a greeting is essential. The statement and context are written with a style that respects both the correct use of grammar and punctuation, whichever language I choose to write in. The closing is properly made too.

Chains of email angst

In a recent series of back-and-forth emails where nothing seemed to be moving, we had generated an enviable email chain that would tire out a casual observer just as some frustration began to set in. I suggested we seek a resolution by telephone conversation to understand where the apparent miscommunication or misunderstanding was because we were getting no further along.

My feeling is that this suggestion prompted my interlocutor to review their workflows and processes after which certain ameliorations were made without conceding the fact that the issue was always on their side.

Suddenly, the shunted wagon of bureaucracy lethargic woke up in a fit of uncharacteristic vigour, trundling forward towards the realisation of intended or expected outcomes.

Words to any effect

One would not want to apportion blame as much as the admission of fault should not suggest a loss of face. Though the facility to admit wrong with the finery of language is hardly taught and acquired without extensive reading, especially of the classics.

I get commended for having a way with words and that my writing conveys my views better than my speech. At my most cantankerous I am neither eloquent nor articulate, and enunciation is good enough, I hope. Yet, where you have no opportunity to write, what you say and how you say it is the only device by which any listener might give due recognition.

The many stations of help

I cannot help you

This had me confused as to what the role of a peer mentor was, which I thought was one of experience brought to bear by example and narrative other than prescription or instruction concerning the issues of life.

Whilst many might have a particular goal or aim for seeking out a mentor, in general, it would seem the better outcome is in shadowing and understudying with ample opportunity for engagement, discussion, explanation, or insight as to why things were better viewed differently.

Without stating it, the feedback was he got on well as an individual with the vicissitudes of life, so why was I self-indulgent and not pulling my weight? I think I have heard and felt that ‘helpful’ criticism before. Much I felt there was something that could be offered, I was ready to walk away when the option of another meeting was offered.

I acquiesced, but the said meeting was postponed by him and we agreed to a rescheduling, just as I had the unction coming out of the shower that I saw no mileage in our interactions. I am of the inkling; that it is for the best.

I think we can help

It was not easy to get to this point. After so articulately sharing some very intimate elements of myself it might seem I was on the one hand relatively well-adjusted and on the other hand seeking professional trauma intervention.

Things I had never given voice to with coherence I never preplanned and the utterance I never predetermined; came out of my mouth to make the case I could not have imagined.

I could only conclude that flesh and blood had not revealed this nor inspired me, I had every help from the Spirit to break through the hurdles that were put before me.

I am in the queue, and there is a prospect of finding the form of words that would flesh out the story I believe needs to be told for the possible purpose of benefiting others.

I want to help you

For the third time in the same week upon a referral from my consultant, I was back on the 20-minute walk to this support organisation. This time on the issues pertaining to means and resources.

Once again, concerns, situations, and circumstances were shared for analysis and played before me with the plight of the Israelites in Egypt, under the cosh of slavery and the duress of producing better bricks but with not enough straw. Not enough of it to meet the range of things that you never thought about once before.

I am walking into a place of more than enough, that is in my heart and in my mouth. It is however necessary to understand for context where you are leaving for a new place, so the significance of the journey can be fully appreciated.

Let me have this other information, he said, and I will get this other stuff for you.

Help for you

It takes quite a change in perspective to get to where you realise you need help, then comes where you go to get that help, after which you have to work through how to ask for help. Your request is then assessed to determine if you are eligible for the help, and to what extent the help can be given depending on the availability of help and helpers.

There is only so much people can do because their abilities and resources are finite, limited, and scarce. The most incredible help in any situation can only come from above, for that is where you get the strength to go through the storms of life and find the imagination to dream the impossible and bring that into your present reality.

Reluctance, tentativeness, and willingness become experiences of the responses we get and we should not be discouraged if we encounter more of the former before we get to some of the latter.

Of that, I have many testimonies and for that, I am grateful that I will yet give even better testimonies of goodness, blessings, faithfulness, and joy.

Blog - He shall preserve my soul, even forevermore

On keeping and appreciating the value of my diamond

Working on relationships

There are times I want to believe I have the best of relationships and others where I am doubtful about the strength of what we might have going. The doubts are not about the relationship itself but how to navigate the emotional elements that constitute the relationship to ensure needs and requirements are satisfied.

If there were a rulebook for relationships with 10 Steps to Perfect Relationships, maybe 10 steps would be a bit much, if the whole concept could be condensed to 3 steps or how Jesus paraphrased the 10 Commandments into two of loving God and loving your neighbour as yourself, maybe, just maybe there can be a modicum of assured success.

The demands are demanding

However, human beings are too complex to be subject to the simple mechanisation of rules. The elements that make for a good relationship with anyone are myriad and varied, the commonalities and differences that engender satisfaction for partners would rarely be similar between all sorts of people.

As much as I strive to make relationships work, we all have expectations, some fully and completely met and others quite less so, as to be unsatisfactory. We work at what we have, to make the bad good, and hope to make the good even better or perfect, but there is work involved and communication is key to that.

Making provision for the sulk

Then again, allowances need to be made to vent frustration, anger, or some other emotion in the scheme of things. A quiet spell of being sent to Coventry is probably one of the easier messages to send in the expression of disagreement or more. It is prerogative that members of a partnership are free to exercise at will without the need to answer to anyone.

Not that it makes for any good feeling for the affected party, but these are things that we as human beings need to negotiate even as the burden of disquiet exacerbates stress and unfortunate discomfort.

Seeking a more perfect union

As the old saying, Love is blind, marriage or relationships are the eye opener. My eyes are constantly opened to my inadequacies in satisfying what might be required of me, in as much as they are opened to how people in relationships are flawed people seeking to augment each other to make a more complete union and whole, some of that is in bonding as glue for joinery and at times it is brutal clash of iron sharpening iron with all the sparks that come from the friction.

I guess what matters most is lots of patience and much more endurance to stay the course whatever happens, to prove daily and maybe hourly that the person you have chosen matters more than you have the capacity to express and in the same vein, more than they would ever know. The rest you leave to fate and fortitude, you can never relent in giving your best, the test is whether they trust you enough to accept it as good enough.

When I look back into history, a man was a diamond to a damsel, sadly, the diamond lost its glitter, the amazing gem had lost the colour, the clarity, the cut, and the carat weight that gave it inestimable value, rancour and animosity bedevils that once blessed matrimony. It is a narrative one must prevent from repeating itself.