Men's things XXXIV: Saving the life, and saving some lifestyle

The Shadow of Mortality

The pall of mortality hovers like a dark cloud at certain times, but you cannot dwell on that feeling at all. Every time you escape the dread it portends, you are grounded by the good fortune of survival and by the uncertainty that reliving it might present.

Above all other questions, it did occur to me whether I had it in me to face another cancer diagnosis. As much as I presented as stoic two years ago, my concerns and anxieties were a rumbling thunderstorm in my mind. I reached for comfort in sermons and in the faith that things, no matter how bad, would be fine.

A Diagnosis Already Known

However, when I saw the consultant at the Christie Hospital in mid-June 2024, it was not to discover anything new. I had already known for a week that adenocarcinoma of the prostate had been diagnosed, because my medical notes from another consultation had been merged with the findings from a biopsy taken three weeks before.

The doctor who made the mistake offered to redact the notes, but how do you unsee the facts as they were presented? The damage of letting the information slip through, without the essential conversation in a controlled setting, had been done.

I was reviewing the consultant's notes yesterday, and I wondered whether there had not been a haste to act, considering the stage at which the cancer was found, given their recommendation of active treatment as opposed to active surveillance.

In the haze of the moment, you do not see everything your medical results indicate; you grasp at the headline and let the detail blur. Looking at the same notes two years on brings a new realisation, a clarity that was simply not available to me then. Yet what can one do now? The decision has been made, the treatment taken, and hindsight, however sharp, cannot rewind the clock.

Registered Without Consent

I attended the consultation with a friend, but what shocked me still more was that, once cancer was diagnosed, I was immediately added to the National Disease Registration Service (NDRS), which comprises cancer diagnosis and analysis along with congenital anomaly and rare disease registration. No one told me I could opt out.

Then, on the matter of cancer, I have always felt that all who have encountered it are treated on the basis of the body of knowledge acquired from survivors and non-survivors alike. We are rarely pioneers of this unfortunate human condition.

Brian, because of his exposure to the medical field, would have been aware of what was developing, but I wanted to tell him when we met up in Cape Town, and that was just over a week away.

Weighing the Options

Meanwhile, between the visible and painful skin cancer of 2009 and the invisible, seemingly benign prostate cancer of 2024, I was totally conflicted. I was hoping that chemotherapy, of which I already had some experience from the last time, was an option, but I soon learnt that the only options were surgery or radiotherapy.

The treatment I eventually had was hypofractionated radiotherapy, effectively External Beam Radiotherapy (EBRT), over 20 weekdays in September and October 2024.

This week, NHS England will begin to offer a more targeted radiotherapy treatment for prostate cancer called Stereotactic Ablative Radiotherapy (SABR). This was first proposed in 2021; it's only five years late.

This focused treatment is down to five doses over a fortnight and lends itself to fewer side effects. [Sky News: 'Cutting-edge' prostate cancer treatment to be rolled out by NHS from next week]

Proposed Patient Pathway
Stereotactic ablative radiotherapy (SABR)
for patients with previously irradiated, 
locally recurrent primary pelvic tumours [PDF]

Progress and Its Price

More recently, the website of Elekta, the company that supplied the radiotherapy equipment for my treatment, features equipment that could offer the same radiotherapy in two fractions. MR-guided adaptive radiotherapy even promises minimal side effects compared with other interventions.

The selling points are that it lowers acute Gastrointestinal (GI) and Genitourinary (GU) side effects while better protecting erectile function. That is the elephant in the room that rarely gets talked about, where cancer treatment saves the life yet does little to preserve the lifestyle.

Then, one must acknowledge that these advancements in technology are welcome progress in tackling these issues. One cannot live in the regret of not holding off on essential treatment to wait for better options to select from. You work with what is available, and you study the changes that come along.

The Elephant in the Room

Even as I insisted on not being co-opted into a form of chemical sex to ease the issue of sexual dysfunction, I was invited to take a prescription of sildenafil citrate, typically at half the normal strength. I feel like the boy of fifteen whose first job was in a brewery, working in the laboratory, where the first wort was said to be an aphrodisiac.

Hey! Medicine expects that, if you can get it up, you already have the sexual confidence for everything else to follow. I beg to differ, as the package gathers dust in my bedside cabinet.

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A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Twelve Years a Resident, Fourteen Years Away

Memory and the Reason for Writing

Fourteen years begin to tell you how dull the memory really is. I suppose that is why we write things down, and probably why this blog exists as a journal of stories and experiences.

My visit to Amsterdam, both impromptu and incognito, was for the single purpose of maintaining the status of a loyalty scheme; one that gives benefits and privileges money might buy, but at a higher cost.

My preference was Paris, but Brian adamantly withstood me, fully expressing his concern for my safety, and only he could know why.

Returning After Many Years

I was tempted to let people I knew through my Holland odyssey, which began in May 2000 and ran for the twelve years I called the Netherlands home, in on the visit. To think I found a hotel in Hoofddorp, where I started my first job with AUCS Infonet 26 years ago, is quite something. I was charged city tax; Hoofddorp is over 10 miles as the crow flies from Amsterdam.

Back then, I lived in Amsterdam and commuted out to Hoofddorp by train each morning; now, all these years later, I was sleeping in the very town I once travelled out to. So much has changed, and yet other things remain the same.

Arriving in Amsterdam yesterday, I made for the public library that opened on the 7th of July 2007, intending to have a meal at Vapiano, not knowing they had closed their business in the Netherlands the year before.

Then I thought to walk up to my old apartment block in the Oostelijke Havengebied, the eastern docklands. The flat, which I bought in November 2001 and sold on the 1st of May 2012 when I handed the keys over to the new owner, was on the 7th floor and overlooked two stretches of water: IJhaven and Eersthaven.

These harbours separated my building from Java-eiland and KNSM-eiland, the two long, narrow islands that, together with my side, make up the regenerated docklands.

The Lessons Wasted on Youth

The funny thing is, for all the ten and a half years I lived there, I never once walked from the city centre. I took the tram, the bus, or rode my bicycle. If only I had known the benefits of walking back then, but this kind of knowledge is wasted on youth.

I did not have a flood of memories when I got there, but soon enough, a resident from way back then wheeled out from the garage. We both had a moment of recognition and greeted each other.

That was enough; my plan to attend my old church on Sunday was now under review, as I wondered whether I could handle the emotional overload of so many reunions. I honestly was not prepared for that.

A City Subtly Changed

Tram numbers had changed. What was once Tram 10, which had not yet been built when I first moved there, is now Tram 1. Tram 25 to IJburg is now Tram 26, with the terminus moved to the back of the central station, on the IJ River side.

Then another face I recognised, still looking good, not weathered by time and deserving of a compliment, which I gave liberally. The things you think you remember, only to realise that your memory is a bit jaded.

Even so, all these encounters encourage the recollections of people, events, and ideas that made those times significant in their different ways. For instance, I sent a message to an old friend whom I had once helped pick out gilets and outfits for his wedding, drawing on my familiarity with the outfitters around Amsterdam and my comfort with formal wear.

We had gone shopping together on Nieuwendijk, one of the city's oldest shopping streets, running north from Dam Square towards the Central Station.

Walking the Singel

Today, I went looking for a restaurant on the Singel, thinking it was further down the canal. I had walked all the way in the opposite direction before retracing my steps, only to find it was nearer the central station after all, and that I needn't have taken the tram in the first place.

After my breakfast, which had Danish bacon as it should be, but hash browns as something else entirely, I set out on a small adventure into the past. My first residence had been in the Jordaan, where I rented from June 2000 until November 2001, when I moved to the apartment I had bought in the eastern docklands.

The Jordaan place was a large garage converted into a one-bedroom apartment with two separate toilets, on Palmstraat. It was all unrecognisable now; even the old had been seriously gentrified.

The Indignities of Travel

You could easily be housebound in Amsterdam, as I saw no disabled toilets. The public toilets at the central station charged a hefty €1.10, which is just unforgivable, and there were no staff on hand to help out with failed automation. But that was yesterday.

There was a time when wearing glasses was considered a grave disability, so much so that once laser surgery for corrective eyesight became widespread, the Dutch were beating a path to every practitioner offering the service.

On toilet anxiety, today was worse, as I was far from any known facilities, and the accident happened. By the time I eventually found a toilet, my underwear had to be binned. We suffer in silence, hiding the shame that cannot be avoided because of nature or affliction. Yet we must live life as best we can, for that is the better story.

The Living Existence of a Life Story

I can boldly say Amsterdam is not about the lost, but the living existence of a life story; visited by adversity and failure, but blessed by the gift of life, the promise of a bright future, and undying hope that makes every travail transient.

Beyond my expectations, there was even an ocean liner at the passenger terminal. So much for reducing seafaring tourism; the reality bites harder than ideas in a council meeting with harebrained resolutions.

The old lady of green politics in the Netherlands of the days of yore is the mayor of Amsterdam. Femke Halsema, I doff my hat. Respect!

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

I Am Not Your Gayologist

The Courage to Deviate

I cannot say how it works for everyone, but eventually, some people must find the courage of their convictions to deviate from what is considered the norm and set their own conventions instead.

To them, their norm, whilst being different, is their existence, their expression, and their life. To choose to live that life fully as themselves, without having to apologise for it, is probably what many others might have wished they dared to do.

In my own case, I did not set out to be unconventional. In the beginning, though I knew my inclinations were different, I did not understand why, nor whether there were others so inclined and ready to explore the possibilities that such difference offered.

A Diverse Humanity

The societies in which I have grown and lived have met this situation with varying levels of acceptance or revulsion. I suppose that is the story of our humanity: we are offered such a range of diversity that keeping track of divergence can be overwhelming. Yet, we can all belong to one celebrated and richly diverse humanity.

Behind all this are stories, very personal and intimate stories of struggle, fear, anxiety, confusion, guilt, grief, or rejection, all borne without a means of sharing one's deepest feelings.

We may never get to narrate those stories if the circumstances do not present the opportunity, but when such a moment does come, even the things you thought you might never share come out in ways you could not have anticipated.

Telling Your Story

How anyone reacts to that story, once told, is left to them. They can listen to the telling or read the message, then respond in whatever way they have been affected, having been given a different perspective on the person they had heretofore thought they knew.

Understandably, we hold high expectations and too frequently are met with indifference or ignorance. Yet a few respond with understanding and empathy; they see you, and that might just be enough to know that everything which became your story is not meaningless.

A Uniquely Owned Experience

Even that premise can be challenged. Why should someone else's viewpoint change your own narrative, even when they have attempted to walk a hard, long mile in your shoes? Nobody can live the life you have lived. They can understand, comprehend, appreciate, embrace, or even endorse it, but your experience will always be uniquely yours.

I started this blog hoping to say that it is not my responsibility to explain my sexuality to anyone. I am who I am, as you are who you are. You not understanding or acknowledging it does not make it insignificant or irrelevant.

Neither is it my problem if you cannot accept me and the choices I have made, without regret or second-guessing myself, in trying to live up to the requirements or standards of others.

Not Your Gayologist

The title of that blog would have been, "I Am Not Your Gayologist." Forgive the neologism; there might well be a blog with that title when the words are fully formed for that range of expression. I guess this is it.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Recuperation is something you should make time for

Learning to Prioritise Recovery

I completed my last chemotherapy session on 8 February 2010. There was another session scheduled for 1 March, but when I saw the ninth session was set for 22 March, I protested, telling my consultant that I saw my life resuming after 1 March and was not mentally prepared for further chemotherapy beyond that date.

My objection resulted in my multidisciplinary team cancelling the eighth session, but that was not my original intention.

Having been given my life back, I was back on the job market, seeking an opportunity, when my consultant said I needed another six months of recovery before returning to work.

Although I had a very generous welfare package, I wanted to return to work. My sense of independence drove me, just as it was clear that bills and the mortgage had not taken a break due to my illness.

The Cost of Returning Too Early

Within seven weeks of my last chemotherapy session, I was back at work. Then my body told me a different story: I neither have the strength nor the capacity for this responsibility. I need to negotiate an adjustment or resign.

The management was very understanding, and I was granted Wednesdays off. This break helped greatly throughout 2010. It was clear I had not allowed myself enough time to recover. However, I did not have the luxury of taking extended time off, as I was self-employed.

More recently, when I was diagnosed with malignant prostate cancer in June 2024, I chose radiotherapy and decided to work through the treatment in September and October of the same year.

On three weekdays during treatment, I had to finish early due to unmanageable fatigue, a known side effect of radiotherapy.

Pushing Through Despite the Warning Signs

Yet, after radiotherapy, I worked for another month as my strength waned, and I realised I needed more specialised care, for which I am grateful Brian provided in Cape Town. I was on sick leave for seven weeks, and although I was paid, I felt the urge to return to work halfway through the leave.

I returned on the first working day of 2025. I was not fully ready, but my spirit was willing; my body struggled beyond its capacity. I pushed through when another two months off would have been ideal.

Throughout 2025, aside from my holidays, hospital appointments and an episode of epididymitis—after attending the hospital, I returned to work; by December, I still had 14 days of annual leave remaining.

For someone coming off a cancer diagnosis and radical radiotherapy, I had overworked myself out of recovery and into a demanding work environment, complicated further by political issues within management. The mentality of just powering through.

A Wake-Up Call

When, on Monday, I experienced the recurrence of unexplained juvenile stomach cramps, there was a suspicion that I could endure the pain, and I did for hours.

A contractual obligation that we delivered to the client every Monday, which I controlled, I promptly completed ahead of schedule, posting the results before I left the office.

While the stomach ache did subside, it took its toll. I was in bed all of Monday, on nil-by-mouth except for essential medication. The same continued through Tuesday and most of Wednesday.

Amidst this, I realised: I do not give myself enough recovery time because I am driven, compelled or obligated by responsibility, circumstance, or situation. None of which is healthy.

A Commitment to Change

It is a realisation I must keep in mind. I am not in a competition of appearances. Good health will always lead to greater productivity; any shortcomings become visible somewhere.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Paying respects to a colleague

Making the Journey

Yesterday was devoted to one main activity: bidding a dear and well-liked former colleague a befitting farewell. As the situation was, the only thing to do was to pay our respects and honour him.

His wife had advised in an email response to my indicating an intention to attend the obsequies that the best station to alight from was Poulton-le-Fylde, as it was the closest to Carleton Crematorium.

Leaving home early, I initially thought of going to Blackpool and then, closer to the time, making my way to Poulton-le-Fylde. However, after exchanges with another colleague who was changing trains at Preston (Lancs), I alighted at Preston and ended up at Brucciani’s Café, where the serving of Eggs Benedict left much to be desired.

Gathering Together

The rendezvous at the station later on saw the meeting of five more colleagues. We set off to a nearby pub, some steeling themselves for the occasion with a tipple.

Another colleague joined us there, and he drove us to the crematorium. As we got out of the car, the funeral cortège was coming up behind us.

A Celebration of Life

The gathering was a humanist celebration. The venue was filled such that there was standing room only; I took to leaning on the wall for support.

Such fantastic stories were told of him, including a very moving tribute from his wife. Many women cried, and even some men cried like boys. He was held in such great affection and deeply loved. A sombre, yet celebratory farewell it was.

The Reception Wake

The reception after the funeral, termed a wake, took place at Carleton Bowling Club. I did note, though, that we had barely exited the chapel when the next hearse had arrived, and there was going to be a last one after that, each session given 45 minutes. A commodification of death, in no uncertain terms.

We got to talk to friends, relations, his wife, and his mother, all appreciative of us making time to attend this farewell.

The Journey Home

Three of us left after dark to catch the trains, a 19-minute walk from the reception. We arrived just in time to board a train to Preston.

I changed at Preston for a train to Manchester, and it was on that train that a conductor not only checked my ticket but also asked for my railcard. He then said, "However you got that railcard, what's your secret?" Not the challenge I expected, but I was also being paid a compliment. It took a full month to be officially recognised as a senior citizen through my Senior Railcard.

An Unexpected Conversation

Then, guess what? The young chap sat beside me, fascinated by the chatter between the conductor and me, struck up a conversation. He was just about to commence his A Levels, attending a boarding school in Cumbria.

His intended career path was history, and I shared with him what I did. He had been in Cape Town last year with his school's rugby team, and he spoke of South Africa in such glowing terms.

What did we not cover before I disembarked at Manchester Oxford Road Station? Chance encounters making a journey and a day end on a jolly note.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Our Awesome God: Eternity Beyond Earth's Limits

Phil Wickham - What An Awesome God (Official Lyric Video)

The Vastness of Existence

Living on this planet Earth in the vastness of the universe presents an awesomeness about our existence and what makes us exist. Sometimes, I think we are hardly well acquainted with the lifeforms we share this Earth with. Limited by the natural elements of sound and light, our ability to perceive is lacking, even with instrumentation.

In my view, all the planets could be inhabited with lifeforms so radically different from us but fully adapted to the environments they are in, just as fish take to water as we take to land. However, that is another story.

Time in the Eternal Spectrum

We live in a spectrum of eternity; time as we measure it is an infinitesimal fraction of that expanse. In the infinite stretch of eternity from the past, through the present, into the future, everything exists and then does not. Yet we have the imagination of time travel in both directions that can surmise everything is happening at the same time, though our experience of it is limited to the present.

A star somewhere in the firmament is born as another dies, yet it could take billions of years for the light from those stars to reach us. What we then experience in the present is in the distant past of that star. It is a mystery, and there is likely more that transcends the limitations of light in speed and for sight, that could carry us into any time in the span of eternity.

Wheels Within Wheels

In the Scriptures, we read of wheels within wheels. Viewed in the context of time, each wheel has a hub and spokes to the rim and edge of the wheel. If eternity were a wheel, from the hub, you could have a view of any part of the eternal landscape that presents as a sphere of wheels engineered in awesome craftsmanship that defies explanation. Time becomes a place you choose to belong in or observe. [Bible Gateway: Ezekiel 1]

Another wonder is shared by Apostle Peter about the concept of time in the eternal scheme of things, when he says, "that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day" [Bible Gateway: 2 Peter 3:8].

Eternal Life Beyond Earthly Limitations

The longest-lived man in the Bible lived for 969 years; Methuselah did not live the length of a Lord's Day. Then just consider the coming of Jesus Christ, who gives eternal life to those who accept Him as Lord and Saviour.

We are taken out of the limitations the Earth, light, and time impose on us as we decay in earthly living to a dimension that is sure to blow any earthly mind away. Our God is an awesome God.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Between the Window and the World

Window Observations

Looking out of my window again this morning, the story remains the same. On the second floor by the window sits the man I wrote about over four years ago. However, for the first time, I saw him eating. It might have been some fruit, as he was using his hands, and what looked like a large potato wedge might have been cut from an apple.

Blog - Coronavirus streets in Manchester - XLII

Surely my eyesight can't be that good, yet I cannot doubt my powers of observation. Brian, on the other hand, seems to have sent another pair of reading glasses to the ocular orthopaedic hospital, one leg lost to the incident of backside indiscipline. No other excuse could be manufactured on the fly.

Blog - Thought Picnic: Sitting pretty and bringing calamity

Anyway, back to my neighbourhood. There is a new arrival who steps out of the apartment, takes a few puffs of her inhaler, then lights a cigarette. How you could clearly have a respiratory condition and then compound it with the gradual destruction of your lungs is a case of utter bafflement that escapes me.

Beyond the Window

As I stepped out to attend church, it was minus four degrees Celsius, but fresh and sunny. By the time I left church, it had snowed, the ground coated white. I was fortunate to have the right kind of shoes on, the soles with ridges that gave a sturdy grip enough to stop me from slipping.

It was already above zero. After a cup of lapsang souchong tea, I was ready to have a nap. The man at the window was back, taking another glimpse of what might be unchanging but for the traffic, yet exciting enough as a variance to routine.

Then again, as he observes his little world from that window, a flurry of snow seeks to obscure my line of sight. Life continues for all, but I'm blessed to experience a bit more by getting out and meeting people.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: The Ephemeral Gift of Life

A Final Gathering

My very first conversation on Microsoft Teams this morning, returning to work, left me numb with shock as I was unexpectedly told sad news that brought tears to my eyes.

Only six weeks earlier, I was in Lancaster for a leaving gathering. We had been colleagues, then he led my team before an opportunity he could not refuse arose, and he was off to a new adventure. We all wished him well.

Since I work remotely, that gathering was our first meeting; it turned out to be our last. How ephemeral life can be. It can be simultaneously resilient and enduring, yet also so transient.

In times like these, I find comfort in the words of the Bible: “How frail is humanity! How short is life, how full of trouble! We blossom like a flower and then wither. Like a passing shadow, we quickly disappear” [Bible Hub: Job 14:1 & Job 14:2].

Numbering Our Days

The Psalmist says, “So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” [Bible Hub: Psalm 90:12]. I do not make New Year's resolutions because life is already a challenge. Maintaining the routine is hard enough without stressing over unattainable goals that fizzle out in months, if not weeks.

I am grateful for each day; it is the present, which is a gift of grace. Everyone runs their race, and no one knows when they will reach the finish.

Then we are swept into the eternity of memories and dreams. At that point, we console their loved ones and cherish the indelible mark they left on us during the brief time life afforded us.

May their soul rest in peace. What a sad start to the year.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Seven Years of Hope, Faith, and Love

Finding My Own Path

Unconventional would probably define much of what can be said about my perspective on life and living, not out of trying to be different or rebellious, but seeking out what gives me purpose, joy, and fun.

Nothing in my work life resembles what others before me have experienced. I chose a path driven by curiosity, exploring what interests me, and finding opportunities where I was recognised for my abilities and how I might change things. It has been turbulent, successful, and rewarding.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Yet, it is in the pursuit of happiness that I might have been the most misunderstood. It is as though living your own life becomes a challenge to others, through no fault of your own, viewed from cultural or societal perspectives.

However, I do not want to make this a weighty piece of psychological reasoning, as it is a day of celebration. Reflecting on how finding someone special can change your world, that is an undeniable fact.

Seven Years Ago

Seven years ago, I met someone whom I would not have initially approached. They came to say hello, and we started a conversation. As we sat at the bar talking, the world faded away; an undeniable connection between us was established.

We met again for lunch before parting ways, one thinking it was a fleeting holiday encounter, and the other wondering what might develop. I saw a future after nearly a decade of silent grief at the death of someone I loved, but I was too timid to pursue that relationship boldly. In my youth, I saw obstacles, barriers, hurdles, and excuses; we all suffered for it.

A Leap of Faith

When this unexpected turn came, as I was not even actively seeking it, it felt different. It was new. I didn't hesitate; I seized the moment. A long-distance relationship, nurtured against all odds, fulfilling in countless ways, grounded in hopes fuelled by a dreamlike imagination that only living can make real.

Every moment is lived and cherished in the realisation that I am truly, madly, deeply, and wonderfully loved. We have laughed, cried, fought, and made peace; struggled and triumphed, but most importantly, we discovered the power of companionship, trust, love, joy, and the enduring strength of desire in making things happen.

A Happy Anniversary

To all of this, I wish you, Brian, a very happy seventh anniversary. You mean the whole wide world to me. I love you dearly and thank you for your indescribably unconditional love.

Sixty and not tiring to retire

A Miracle in the Making

Considering only man's machinations and all the wiles that deceive us, when that little boy was placed in the hand – not hands – of his father, they were solely thinking of his next breath. That was the precariousness of the situation as it was conveyed to me.

Then came the subsequent hour, for only a city could support him; my small town lacked the medical facilities for such an early arrival. Then the weeks in a bottle, or more accurately, behind glass, and then years have turned into decades. Today marks a diamond jubilee.

Living Proof

I am a living miracle of blessing and good fortune. There have been many doubts and confusions suggesting this day might not be seen, an endless list that needs no further mention.

Congratulations are also owed to my parents. They have a child of 60, yet I still navigate the parent-child dynamic, as if I had never become an adult. That has spawned many stories as well. I am simply filled with gratitude. It is incredible: I am really 60 years old, and I get to tick that other age group box.

Gratitude and Partnership

So many people over the years have shaped this story, and for the past seven years, my partner Brian. His unwavering presence has been a steady source of strength, especially during some recent uncertain moments of my life. Work and health issues, marked by fragility and doubt, created challenges and milestones; Brian's support has been invaluable.

Sharing this part of my extraordinary journey with him has inspired dreams, ignited hopes, and declared visions. We are not tiring to retire but eager to aspire and grasp the essence of our imaginations. Thank you for celebrating this jubilee with us.

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It's A Wonderful Life

Help is coming

Sometimes, it is not clear what things people are going through: demands, pressures, trauma, psychological issues, unmet goals, unfulfilled dreams, or just the humdrum of daily life. In all this, one must continue to live and seek to thrive, because that is what living is all about.

I just finished watching an abridged version of the 1946 film, It's A Wonderful Life, on Amazon Prime Video, which would form the themes of our discussions in church during the Advent season that started last Sunday, but was deferred for the silver jubilee of our bishop's enthronement as a bishop in the Church of England.

There were times when I shed a tear while watching the film, which, on its release, barely broke even at the box office, but over the years, has become a Christmas staple of generosity and redemption against the odds. The need for a life partner, for prayer, and knowing you have a guardian angel can make all the difference to an existence bordering on despondency.

“Senior Angel: A man down on Earth needs our help.
Clarence: Splendid. Is he sick?
Senior Angel: No, worse. He's discouraged.” A conversation in heaven from the film.

Under the darkest clouds

The concept of being discouraged stems from various factors, including losing confidence or hope, feeling that one's efforts don't make a difference, or believing goals are out of reach. These issues meet us in different places and affect us to varying degrees.

There may be the kind of resilience that helps one see beyond the present, or sometimes one can get overwhelmed to the point of seeking an outlet. Either way, this represents the fragility of our humanity, which is difficult to explain to people who see us as stalwarts and leaders, in thought and deed.

In the last few months, even as I seem to have powered through a lot of things in health, at work, and in general relationships, I am drawn to the realisation that I might be exhausted. Feeling a lot better after cancer treatment, whilst grateful for the developments and progress, does not make it less impactful. It was a daunting situation, with support coming from just a handful of people.

The safety of withdrawing

Apart from the two weeks' break I had in August and September, I have worked since the first working day of the year, returning from sick leave and hardly structuring the return to work. In terms of family, most just thought it was another headache; only two of my siblings kept engaged from when I was diagnosed through my treatment.

I began to cut down on my social interactions and withdrew into my shell, my engagements mainly limited to my partner, my best friend, my church community, the work environment, and a few friends. I need the time to myself without shouldering responsibilities or fielding issues. I have done enough for the purposes of legacy, if that matters at all.

Even at the emotional low points, I must encourage myself. I see possibility within the flux and the fog, knowing the dark clouds have to shift for the sunshine to give light, warmth, and life.

Most of all, I am truly fortunate, exceedingly grateful, and amazingly blessed. “No man is a failure who has friends.” I am thankful for the friends I have; they pray for me, support me, encourage me, give me hope, and restore my faith, showing me such undeserved, unconditional love. It is indeed a wonderful life, after all.

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Junk the funk

Gloom Over Bloom

The number of times I have written about the joy of living and the pursuit of happiness would suggest to some that I never experience periods of funk, where dark clouds loom as harbingers of the rains of depression.

Like a cloud, it creeps up on you from a height where things might not seem discernible until the cool of the shadow hits your skin, the direct impact of sunrays abruptly taken from sight. As you look up, you hope the cloud is moving and that soon the sunrays will return, but you can never predetermine how large a cloud might be.

Depending on the weather of life, the cloud might linger for longer than is comfortable for the soul and body; it begins to affect your spirit. This is where you need a lift.

Count My Blessings

It was in the shower this morning (and a lot of interesting contemplation happens under a showerhead) that I realised I seem to have lost that lovely feeling, a kind of lethargy where the desire to do anything is lost. Plans percolate in the mind but never reach an execution stage, with procrastination unwittingly taking the fore and control.

There are many things I have had the intent to do but cannot seem to be bothered with, apart from feeling swamped by the underachievement or the lack of it. The inability to produce is like an infirmity.

I began to think of how to get out of this rut: by cultivating a spirit of thankfulness, getting out to do something even though I do not feel that sociable, then reflecting on what things I have wanted done. Moreover, I should stop thinking in terms of the means but rather the opportunity to do.

Men's things XXV: Prostate cancer under control

Gathering my thoughts

There are many things to be grateful for: life, health, relationships, friendships, hope, faith, and the love that conquers all.

It's now been over a year ago that I began the twenty sessions of hypofractionated external beam radiotherapy for prostate cancer, the aftermath of which includes an extended time of monitoring and care. [NHS England: Hypofractionated external beam radiotherapy in the treatment of localised prostate cancer (PDF) 25 pages.]

After meeting with the multidisciplinary team in March, in conversation, I was to be seen again in 4 months, but the letter to my doctor indicated 5 months. But I received no appointments, so I had to consult the oncology department secretary about it.

It took her just over three weeks to respond. That was after I placed a phone call to her number and left a message that got a nurse to call and plan to be seen within three weeks.

Reviewing the process

Any appointment would have required first doing a serum prostate-specific antigen (PSA) test and getting the results before the appointment, and the secretary gave me just 6 working days to my next appointment to get that done.

Thankfully, for my Monday appointment, my GP surgery invited me on Thursday to provide a blood sample, and I was able to access the result on the NHS app last night.

I was concerned because the PSA results from February 2024 and the 5 test results altogether have fluctuated in ways that if I had not taken decisive action to act on the possible presence of prostate cancer by urging my doctor to be engaged, responsive, and proactive, the malignancy would have continued untouched to a seriously life-threatening situation.

This is because, in early February 2024, the PSA was borderline high at 3.5, then 7 weeks later at the end of March 2024, it had risen to 4.0 and needing further investigation, that started with a Digital Rectal Examination (DRE), through a multiparametric MRI (mpMRI) scan in April 2024, an ultrasound-guided transperineal biopsy of the prostate gland in May 2024, and a stage-2 prostate cancer diagnosis in June 2024 with the recommendation that I undergo active treatment.

Making your decisions towards the best outcomes

In July 2024, I made the choice between a radical prostatectomy and radical radiotherapy, opting for the latter, though on seeking a helpful opinion from Prostate Cancer UK, the nurse thought it was better to opt for active surveillance or watchful waiting.

I was not going to wait to watch what a clear diagnosis of cancer was going to do in my body, and worry myself silly about what I could have done on the back end of having this knowledge. That was the last time I called Prostate Cancer UK, because having come this far, I needed encouragement and support, not dissuasion.

As I prepared for radiotherapy, we had another PSA test at the end of August 2024, and it had fallen to 2.0. That sneaky thing could have been a dangerous signal to abandon treatment, as the reading had fallen below the danger zone into the normal range. However, that did not mean the cancer had suddenly disappeared. Either way, I was going through with the radiotherapy.

This began on the 12^th of September 2024 for every weekday until the 9^th of October 2024, and I worked through it, even as the side effects of chronic fatigue and bladder issues took hold. A month after treatment, I took an extended sick leave that lasted just under 2 months, spending most of that time with Brian, caring for me in Cape Town.

After treatment monitoring and beyond

When I went for my first post-treatment checkup in early April 2025, the PSA test I took, the previous week at the end of March, read 2.6 and this was the cause of my concern and it led me to question the reliability of the PSA test as an indicator of reduced prostate agitation, especially after radiotherapy, but then I also realised that the period of recuperation could be long, as exemplified in my strength, and voice.

My reckoning was that if the PSA result did not fall at my next appointment, I would request a second mpMRI scan. I am glad to say that on my receipt of the results last night, that might not be necessary as the PSA has fallen to 1.3 micrograms per litre (µg/L).

However, for my meeting on Monday, I am on alpha blockers since that regulates prostate function, since October last year, and I might be on that for some time, and I have had two episodes of epididymitis in May and August. We might have to discuss the hows and whys of that.

Apart from the occasional insomnia, the fluctuations in my voice, irregular occurrences of fatigue, and some restlessness that besets me at various times, I am doing quite well and happy with the improvements, grateful for the support from many people who have helped me through interesting times.

When I am presented with the opportunity, I talk about men’s things, the need for us to be conscious of the health of our bladders, bowels, prostates, testicles, and sexual organs. These things matter, and catching anything going awry early is of the utmost importance.

Here’s to life and living. Thank you.

References

Blog - Photons on the Prostate - A year from starting radiotherapy

Blog - A prostate cancer diagnosis, one year on

Blog - Photons on the Prostate - XVIV - I Just Can't Wait

Blog - Men's things - XXIV - A presentation

Blog - Men's things - Prostate Cancer blogs

Thought Picnic: How we weep more than the bereaved

Managing the inputs

I have experienced bad dreams, some quite vivid, usually caused by medication I am on, but I also have a very active imagination. I can easily conjure up anything, which is why I control the kinds of input that enter my thoughts, especially what I see or watch.

For that reason, I do not watch horror films; childhood memories of terrifying events keep me guarded about the conversations that reach my ears.

When I was twelve and in secondary boarding school, one night I dreamt that something terrible had happened, and I believed that dream. I was inconsolably distressed most of the day until I received news that everything was fine and that the situation had been a creation of my mind and imagination.

Controlling your thoughts

The mother of a friend used to enquire about him, but her thoughts were filled with worries about something bad happening to him. Although he might be prone to mishaps, I gently advised her to change her thinking and to remove her anxiety by thinking good thoughts when they had not spoken for a while. I told her to surround him with positivity rather than dread.

A certain principle applies: if you have nothing good to say about something, then say nothing. Similarly, I suggest that if you have no good thoughts about something or someone, abandon the negative thoughts and seek better ones for your own peace and well-being. Your thoughts do not necessarily control the person you are thinking about.

How we manage the influence of premonitions, foreboding, and anxiety depends on how we train our minds. If I wake up thinking something bad has happened, I do not immediately accept that as my reality without evidence. I am more likely to comfort myself with the thought that all is well, or to pray for peace and calm amidst the uncertainty—this is better than being driven by every gust of fear and doubt.

A ship caught in a storm will likely founder if the captain and crew do not keep calm, and lives could be lost in the process. We are the captains of our minds, managing the storms of thoughts that pass through them. Yet, we sometimes give these thoughts life by voicing them or acting upon them.

Living with better thoughts

I understand that after a cancer diagnosis, some people might be worried and concerned about me. I cannot fully imagine how they felt, but I was at the centre of that situation. I had the cancer; they only had their imagination. Perhaps if their thoughts had been encouraging about better outcomes, I would have appreciated their positivity to help my situation.

You cannot live solely by the thoughts of others, especially in adversity; you need sources of upliftment that dispel the worst fears. I did not dwell on how cancer might kill; instead, I listened to messages about healing, health, living, thriving, and being strong. Out of over thirty hospital visits, only twice did I have a chaperone—because I needed to keep my thoughts positive.

If I, as the person most affected, can maintain hope, and there are many in worse situations who are not thinking the worst about their circumstances, why then are others we consider close to us full of fear, anxiety, and worry on our behalf? It makes no sense at all. There might be an inadequacy in their development of positivity and faith.

Listening carefully

The other day, after telling someone I had had cancer twice, instead of listening to what I said, he began to talk about herbal remedies and the supposed causes of cancer. A musician by profession is quite a leap from an oncologist. I was so irritated by his ignorance disguising itself as knowledge.

I know the effects of chemotherapy and radiotherapy; they can be deadly, and side effects are horrible, but we do not abandon cancer treatment. In most cases, we manage the side effects and ultimately recover.

After all this rambling, perhaps the best thing to say is: please, do not weep more than the bereaved, worry more than the affected, or be burdened more than the truly infirm. Carrying an imaginary burden heavier than the real one is a feat beyond belief.

When we manage our thoughts properly, what might be pity or sympathy often turns into empathy. We walk that long, hard mile in another's shoes, understanding them instead of making it about ourselves, our thoughts and emotions shifting focus away from them.

It is well.

I've got everything left to achieve

Building for Life

Baron Foster of Thames Bank turned 90 on June 1st. He has left his mark on the architectural landscape of the world, collaborating with fellow architects and many designers. One cannot help but be in awe of how imagination on paper becomes the realisation you can behold.

In one of his iconic buildings, where I used to have lunch in the 1990s, the Willis Building in Ipswich, with black curtain walls contrasting with a yellow and green interior, went on to become the youngest Grade I listed building in the UK.

I remember visiting Berlin and observing how a Foster and Rogers project in that city seemed like you hire Norman Foster to transform a monument into a modern masterpiece, as he did with the Reichstag building, and Richard Rogers to create a monument by building a modern masterpiece, as he did with the Daimler complex.

Everything left to achieve

Architecture has always interested me, but that is not the primary focus of this blog. Interviewed for the Architects’ Journal in May, this last exchange—question and answer—offered an insightful perspective on the man himself.

Gino Spocchia: You’re about to turn 90, an achievement in its own right. As an architect, do you feel there is anything left for you to achieve?

Norman Foster: I've got everything left to achieve. That’s an impossible question. [Architects’ Journal: Norman Foster at 90: ‘I have everything left to achieve’]

My journey to this interview was influenced by listening to Richard Rogers on Desert Island Discs yesterday; he was interviewed in March 1990, and he spoke about his early partnership with Norman Foster, then winning the Pompidou Centre competition with Renzo Piano, and Su Rogers. [BBC Sounds: Desert Island Discs – Richard Rogers]

Propinquity to serendipity

In the 20 years I have visited Paris and sat for brunch on the first floor of Café Beaubourg that overlooks the space in front of the Pompidou Centre, I have only observed people and never entered the centre itself. Richard Rogers passed away at 88 in 2021.

I suppose one first considers the blessing and fortune of good health at such an age, to continue to have zest for life and a purposefulness that suggests you believe you still have much to do and give.

Thinking of continuing potential

For Norman Foster, advanced age is not an end; he embraces a philosophy of ongoing potential, rejecting the cultural narrative that achievement belongs primarily to youth. Meaningful accomplishment remains possible at any stage of life. Retirement is not a part of this man’s vocabulary.

For someone turning 90, this perspective embodies:

• A refusal to be defined solely by past accomplishments
• An understanding that wisdom and experience create unique opportunities
• A rejection of artificial timelines for meaningful contribution
• An embracing of new goals suited to current capabilities
• Finding purpose in mentorship, creative expression, or personal growth

I am deeply inspired by this mindset, as I contemplate returning to university to learn from and engage with youthful insights and young minds. I am convinced of the importance of lifelong learning and continuous engagement with a world of possibilities.

Norman Foster exemplifies this life-affirming stance beautifully; if we have consciousness, will, health, and resources, we retain the capacity for meaningful achievement. It is clear he enjoys what he does and will continue for as long as he can. Belated happy birthday, Norman Foster, Baron Foster of Thames Bank.

References

20^th Century Architecture: Norman Foster

20^th Century Architecture: Richard Rogers