More fuel to the Pfizer

Pricks and nicks

Two things have been on my mind for the past month or so, both related to my health for which I needed to plan for and have done before the prospect of a rendezvous with my partner in December. My typically biannual check-up which usually occurs in mid-April and mid-October had landed this time in the last week of October and so the next appointment six months after.

Then, having taken my second COVID jab on May the 6^th, I had been looking to book my booster shot anytime around the 6^th of November. In fact, I had been looking for a slot since the middle of October, though the initial indications suggested at least 6 months and a week after the second jab. Then on Saturday, I found out that from Monday you could find a slot online to get the booster shot.

Running with runs

I was of the mind that I had told everyone, yet it just happened that in the fog of apparently letting everyone know, I had inadvertently not told Brian. You can trust I was going to get an earful for that. On Monday, I did get a slot for after work on Wednesday, today, none of the locations anywhere nearby that I decided to go to the Manchester Tennis and Football Centre by the Manchester City Football Club Etihad campus – that was going to be an Uber ride.

Meanwhile, yesterday, I had a bout of diarrhoea that left me visiting the toilet 10 times around bedtime over some 2 hours. Whilst it appeared to subside in the morning but persist through the day, I had hoped Imodium instants would help as I contemplated postponing my booster shot appointment.

In the end, I took precautions for the inadvertent flows and made for the vaccination venue where I was ushered in to first sanitise my hands and don a new face mask provided by the venue and I proceeded to the registration desk where my booking was retrieved, and a few COVID-related questions were asked.

Just some assurance

Then on to a second registration desk where more questions were asked about allergies, conditions, current medication, participation in recent trials and how I was feeling. On being told I had the runs since yesterday, the nurse sought advice from the location pharmacist who could not be located for probably 10 minutes, at which point they got me a chair to sit down.

The pharmacist came and said as long I was not feeling unwell or running a temperature, the diarrhoea should have no particular consequence. However, with that knowledge, it was left to me to decide if I wanted to go ahead with the booster shot. I felt it would be fine and then I was ushered into the queue for the Pfizer BioNTech Comirnaty vaccine.

Boost your immunity

Much banter ensued between us, the nurse who asked my name and I offered to give a list of 24, the need to take off my long-sleeved shirt that they brought over a screen lest my nudity and corset be exposed to the public and we were done before I was to sit in a waiting area for 15 minutes ere my journey home. Brian called and it was then I realised he had not been informed and my ear was pulled for longer than I could endure.

He felt I should have allowed recovery from the diarrhoea before going for the shot and whilst it is sensible, the medical opinion made allowances and having taken the jab, what mattered was keeping hydrated, taking some rest and probably an analgesic as my body got back together again. I did not want to add fuel to the fire on the whys and wherefore, I had just taken on fuel to my Pfizer. I’ll be fine.

Thought Picnic: Facing it alone again but it is well

Sent forth to bear

Just over 13 and a half years ago, in a foreign land, amongst strangers, I bore with stoicism and fortitude the heavy news of a grave diagnosis that left me comforting the bearer of the message.

Sometimes I wonder what strength and reserves come to the fore when faced with all sorts of circumstances, the ability to see beyond the situation whilst having to go through the many tough battles that have become interesting milestones in my life.

In terms, it probably goes back to when my parents thought the best way to toughen me up was to send me far away from home at the age of 10 to sit common entrance examinations for over 4 months to live between relations in the South-West of Nigeria from the north.

Ever-increasing distance

Since then and when I finally left for boarding school at 3 months short of my 11^th birthday, I had literally left home and with that was the emotions and the life that has been singularly charted since then. My general welfare from the perspective of my parents and my guardians had simply been monitored through my academic reports and my behavioural development.

The result inadvertently has become a tenuous link borne of the relationship that was barely nurtured over my first ten years and the rest over conflict, disagreement, disappointment, anxiety, surprise and fleeting interest.

The fact is, no one in my family has the faintest idea of the reality of my life beyond the third week after my tenth birthday, we have increasingly grown distant from then, whilst they have only been affected by episodes of illness, of failure and of delinquency, the causes of which they never really bothered to explore and I just gone on with my life. With hindsight, there were periods of serious depression for which I got no help.

The walk on the wild side

Yet, as a result of their investments in the lives of others, I have been catered for and mentored by people who seemed to have given me a greater purpose in life and the courage to follow my convictions. The moment I had the opportunity and the ability to make my own decisions, I grabbed it and have never relinquished it.

It, however, does not get easier to face the challenges of life alone, but they are too far removed from my circumstances to be intimated and involved when new situations arise, that devolves to friends who are more acquainted with things as they stand today.

Maybe, we could have laid more groundwork for something more meaningful, there is a lot of blame to share amongst us in the scheme of things.

It is well

Today, I face something I am not as prepared for as I would have liked to be, not that any course of treatment presents a fanciful taste like sucking on sweets, but that is the way things are. When I attended 7 sessions of chemotherapy over 5 months in 2009/2010, I only had two of those sessions with friends accompanying me, the rest, I resolutely attended meditating in a reclined position, looking forward to the last session which would have been the eighth.

I am promised, it would neither be as gruesome nor as uncomfortable, it would have its discomforts, but they will be manageable. I may be going there alone, what I should avoid is the spectre of loneliness.

As they always say, by way of encouragement and support, ‘It is well’.

Hospital: Doctor's orders: Have a big 50th birthday celebration

Uber to the zoom

For all the early planning I had done to get to the hospital on time, I barely had 20 minutes to hail a Uber taxi and make it out there. After exchanging pleasantries, I told the driver where I was going and he had the presence of mind to ask when my appointment was, we only had 15 minutes to make my appointment.

We made it in 17 minutes through no prompting of mine to take alternative routes or avoid traffic jams, for which I was quite grateful. Incidentally, patients can be sanctioned for missing appointments but medical establishments are rarely under obligation to meet the scheduled appointment time.

Mangled tardily

In most cases of my attending hospital appointments, I have rarely had the occasion of seeing my doctor or consultant on time and we all just accept that as the norm.

I registered and went to sit in the waiting room where there are five others in waiting, some 10 minutes later, I was called by an unforgivable mangling of my name, I swore under my breath at the lack of an attempt to do it well. Besides, my file already shows I prefer to be called by the shortened version of my first name than with that longish one that in the mouth of my mother spelt I was in deep trouble.

My weight as usual threw up numbers I could not bear to countenance whilst my blood pressure read the kind of figures that put me in my second youth. Three is work to be done about my gravitational displacement.

Called up

Returning to my seat, I chomped through my magazine waiting to be called in and at the 65^th minute, I finally had my chance. Having seen many doctors in this unit, this was the first time I was meeting the main consultant. We had chatted before on my first visit, but only to hand me over to another to review my medical history and then when he provided a basic assessment of my situation.

Being in clinic today, he recalled that I was the very well-dressed man the first time that put all the other ward staff to shame and then ushered me into his office where he gave me a warm handshake and motioned to me to sit down.

Poring over my notes, we went over histories, analyses, results and prognosis within which I expressed my concerns about getting treated for a chronic condition that had not been addressed for over two years. He then suggested that I should consider the tough drug regime which would last 3 months instead of the original 12-month regime and that it is rather better tolerated now than it was in the early days.

All matters considered

I had my mind set on the alternative therapy and was really not prepared for this new piece of device that I felt I could not make a clear decision at this meeting. We then set a prospective time for 6 months hence whilst a new prescription note was filled in for the intervening period.

The bloods had their own story to tell, all reading good, a minor indication of my not fighting my condition as well as I used to and a slight inflammation without attendant discomfort. Not as good as I will have like things to be, but all within the limits of tolerance and expected responses medical opinion entertains.

Besides the essentials of this consultation, the meeting was warm-hearted with probably the most compassionate and empathetic concerns I have had from a doctor in a very long time.

Caring and nice

He asked at the beginning if I had found the love of my life, understood the angst and struggles in finding a suitable partner and was quite involved and personal when I asked about the consequences of the options I had before me in terms of treatment.

However, the deepest affection was shown to me when realising I will soon be 50 and I said I was unsure of what to do for my birthday; he said, having seen 50 and 60, the best thing to do is to go out and celebrate it well, have a party and be thankful for the joys of life. He also hoped by then I would have found the love of my life and be much fulfilled and happier when next meet in February.

On that note, we parted ways with a warm handshake and I feeling good at his wonderfully relaxing bedside manner despite the issues we needed to chat about.