Seventeen Years of Blessed Time

A Diagnosis and a Diary

I have just read through the blog I wrote 17 years ago today, and I can only be amused at the humour that infused those pages: an admission to hospital that lasted 18 days, a cancer diagnosis, and the possibility that I had only five weeks to live. That earlier writing found the light amid it all, and reading it back now, I am struck by the tone I managed to keep.

An AI-generated infographic on the blog content. (Click to enlarge.)

That was how serious things were. I was in unbearable pain that medication did not seem to manage, and could barely tolerate. As long as I was lying flat, I was fine; the moment I put my left foot down, I was in agony.

The Path to Referral

I still remember the conversations that led to this, beginning on the Wednesday before. From the moment I saw my doctor, who took one look at the sole of my foot and immediately said, "This looks serious, I need to refer you," things moved quickly. She was soon on the telephone, urging the hospital to register me for the next available appointment as a matter of urgency.

She bandaged my foot, sent me home with painkillers, and secured an appointment for the Friday. When I attended the hospital that day, the staff decided I had to see the internist, who was not available until the Tuesday. No further palliatives were on offer, yet I somehow survived the weekend without the need for an emergency evacuation.

Admission Day

On the Tuesday morning I was chaperoned to the hospital. I took only a change of underwear, for I had no idea what to expect. For the first time in my life, I sat in a wheelchair, exhausted by the pain, when the internist, after the briefest of introductions, did not hesitate to say, "You're not going home; we have a bed for you upstairs."

I was registered, prepped, and soon wheeled on a gurney to the ward, where my vitals were taken and the process of medical triage and diagnosis began. They first ruled out diabetes by taking my blood pressure at my extremities, at my lower arms and below my calves. Then I was cannulated and given an intravenous infusion of saline solution with antibiotics. Thus began my first day in hospital. The very next day, my netbook was delivered to me, and with it the chance to write from my bed.

A Note on the Bread

With the netbook at hand, I set about recording the daily indignities, and here is the sort of thing that occupied me at the time.

"I ended up with the gluten-free bread meant for the patient in the next bed – tasteless, YuK! Yuk! I was, however, bothered because the bread was clearly labelled for the lady; I do not remember undergoing a gender reassignment overnight."

That, more or less, was my state of mind: frightened, in pain, yet still affronted by a bad slice of bread and a case of mistaken identity.

A Prognosis of Weeks

From a medical perspective, I am not expected to still be here. At prognosis, I was told my condition was treatable, but only if I could tolerate the treatment. The internist, who was also an MD, said, "If you cannot tolerate the treatment, you probably have only five weeks." Beyond that, studies at the time suggested that people presenting with my symptoms did not last a decade.

As it turned out, I could tolerate the chemotherapy, and it worked. For me to be here today, 17 years on, is a miracle of mercy and grace, blessed time rather than borrowed. I am thankful for each day. I have even survived another episode of cancer, and it is almost two years since I completed radiotherapy for that. That day is etched in my memory, and I am grateful to God, to my doctors, the nurses, my friends, my neighbours, colleagues, and the many well-wishers. You are all part of this amazing story.

Between the Pain and the Healing

I shall borrow an excerpt from the blog I wrote about my admission then, the closing paragraph, and whilst recollections might vary, through the pain and the ordeal I also saw beyond it. "Even in all this, one has many things to be thankful for; health is wealth, any day, any time. For all that suffer, I wish them a speedy recovery – yes, I got my netbook delivered to the hospital – there is much to talk about, between the pain, the sheets and the healing." (Yes, I used em-dashes in 2009.)

Thank you.

Blog - In hospital to kill the pain (September 2009)

A Gemini Notebook AI Podcast on this blog

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.

Having a spirit of gratitude

Guy Penrod - Count Your Blessings (Live) Gaither Music TV.

With tears of joy

“I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.” Helen Keller

There are variations of the quote above attributed to others in sermons, books, or articles, however, Helen Keller was profound in the fact that she was both blind and deaf from the age of 19 months old.

What is significant about this saying is having a great sense of gratitude regardless of your circumstances, because there is almost definitely someone quite worse off than you are.

Sometimes, I just watch one of those talent shows to see surprising performances from amazing and extraordinary people who have overcome serious adversity to showcase their talent before what eventually is a global audience. The times I have cried for joy on their behalf are innumerable as you reflect on the goodness of life you enjoy.

Join with the blessed

Learning not to be pitiful, but exceedingly thankful is a state of mind; maybe even the grace of being able to put things in perspective. Giving not too much weight to what is going wrong when you can lift your spirits with what is going right.

Knowing how to count your blessings, great and small, naming them one by one like the old hymn says, can make all the difference to how your day is going. 

I take much encouragement from the beauty and support that surrounds me, Brian, who is ever loving and unstintingly filling my ears with loveliness, friends who have my back through thick and thin, God, my rock, my shield, my shelter, my comfort, and my strength. [Hymnary.org Count Your Blessings]

When the going gets tough, and the outlook seems rough, you feel you have had enough. “Do not be discouraged, God is over all; Count your many blessings, angels will attend, Help and comfort give you to your journey's end.”

I shall not be moved

Phone in a nature call

Leaving church yesterday I found the need to visit the public conveniences in the shopping centre before making a collection which had me queue up on one floor only to be told the collections department was two floors below and again, another queue.

After I collected the goods, I stepped out of the shopping centre and reached into my side holster to retrieve my mobile phone, it wasn’t there, it could not be anywhere else, it had to be in the toilet cubicle on the toilet roll holder, something I have never done before, leave my phone anywhere but in my holster or my pocket when I am away from home.

Catching myself from the irrational

A flood of panic was about to overwhelm my thinking, you do everything on a phone, is it replaceable, how do you recreate the user experience and convenience curated and cultivated on your phone and a million other thoughts.

I had to catch myself, Akin keep your head and calm down, to override the hyperactivity of my imagination, I had no intelligent words to speak but to speak in tongues which focused me towards knowing whatever the case, I would have my phone.

Moved to thankfulness and gratitude

The cubicle I used was vacant and the phone had gone and immediately I thought of going to the information desk of the shopping centre as there was no toilet attendant about. I found the information desk and told the man there; that I had just lost my phone in the gentlemen’s toilets. He asked what brand it was, and as I told him he produced my phone saying someone had just handed it in some five minutes before.

Great relief and thankfulness, angels ministering even when you have done silly things. However, as I meditated on the situation looking for a place to sit down before calling Brian, I knew for myself and the many things that I have been through then, before, and after, I shall not be moved.

I’m a child of silent wonder

I’m a child of silent wonder

I’m a child of silent wonder,
In the things I quietly ponder,
When I thought I was under,
I learnt of love more funder,
I serve a God of wonder.

I daily see the miraculous,
Putting aside every loss,
Not in how I fought to win,
But in the grace of him,
Who came for the great cause,
My weary soul to win.

The times I felt dejected,
When I was often rejected,
So many things were affected,
As if nothing was protected,
Good left me neglected.

Yet in the soil of my wailing prayers,
Dead seeds planted of failing affairs,
I cried lakes of sailing tears,
Almost fell to availing fears,
But I saw his prevailing cares.

Wait, I have a testimony of praise,
Not just of a passing phase,
From every slump he will raise,
Set your crazy life ablaze,
To sing of his goodness always.

Gratitude as a salve of calm

Choosing gratitude over all

You find that you must purge yourself of things as situations and circumstances are taken out of your hands and superseded by the actions and activities of others. It is where you need to be given the allowance to process things at your own pace.

Everything points to the urge for annoyance, grievance, upset, or anger, but you catch yourself thinking that your reaction to any situation makes the difference regardless of what happened to you.

It is with that in mind that I will count my blessings, be thankful for the wonderful friendships and relationships that allow me to review, reflect, reassess, or even reject things that do not help me feel the way I hope to be. It is not just a matter of need, but one of purpose, to be grateful and full of gratitude that the times of now are hardly defining of all times, phases create the experience for insight and knowledge for living.

In my clam for calm

If anything, I hate drama in my life, there are reasons why I am protective of myself, my mind, the influences that aim to intrude, the voices that seek access to my hearing, the scenes that present for my viewing and observation, they are all for finding my place of calm that some think is me clamming up.

Then maybe, I do need to clam up, some things are just that way as we use the mechanisms newly learnt or from times past to command state and status to stand firm whatever wind blows one’s way. I cherish the deep friendships that help to think things through, even as that shell is a place of temporary safety for that need of some security for self and welfare.

57 encounters of blessings and thankfulness

I guess you already know there’s always a complementary birthday blog.

Hope alive beyond today

57, that is like three lives of 19, a number or a milestone, but either way, it is a celebration that I am grateful to memorialise and journal, for of many that I know, I have been the most fortunate and blessed to have the stories I get to tell.

Indeed, I would have loved to celebrate today in the company and the arms of my partner Brian in the warmth of the summer of the southern hemisphere, but the best laid-out plans can so easily be disrupted, the present disappointment prepares us for greater adventurous prospects of fun and more beyond what we might ever desire, it is not a train smash, he would say.

Life-affirming faith and love

Besides, it has been an interesting year, tough at times and exciting at other times, but that is the stuff of life. When I think about my circumstances 13 years ago, I could not have imagined and I could not see as far as today as everything was just so absolutely dire, yet the intervening years have brought a storied existence of life reinvented, happiness reconsidered, joy reverberating, and love rejuvenating, I am highly favoured.

Friends and family have been an unerring source of support and providence, I have been lifted and kept aloft with kindness, goodness, generosity, and love. I sometimes pinch myself, all this for me? At 57, I am grateful to God and the providence that took that little child that needed an incubator rather than a manger that Tuesday morning into a journey of the life celebrated today.

Unspeakable gratitude with thanks

I am full of thanks for the encounters brief and longstanding that have given me meaning and reason to strive to be a better person in every way possible. I can imagine maybe things that could have been, but I am encouraged that this is the best existence, it has the best stories and the wildest adventures, along with the goodness and mercy that follows me every day.

Having decided it will be quiet and without drama, I will still make it a day to remember, every birthday is a day to reflect, celebrate, and appreciate the wondrous grace of the divine that showers blessings in abundance over me.

We live not just to survive, but to thrive, we speak not just to be heard, but to be impactful, we love not just for companionship but to be examples of assuring togetherness, we write our stories to contribute our small part to the concept of humanity, and that is my resolve daily for as long as I have breath. To my 57^th birthday and the hope for many more to celebrate. Thank you.

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On a Tuesday, 56 years ago

Four days to Christmas

On a cold Tuesday morning, a boy-child was born, and for a manger, he had an incubator in which he lay for just over 2 months. Mary, the mother was soon back in the fields of work just after Joseph, the father had handled the hamster-sized boy and signed the papers to have the boy taken out of town. That is my nativity in a nutshell.

My heart is full of thanks and gratitude for the celebration of my 56^th birthday, and what a year it has been, but we cannot dwell on the difficulties and hardships when there is much to be grateful for, for the blessings and the grace to see another year, in warmth, with love, and buoyed with hope for the future.

Do not fold to old

Much as I am excited, a little voice of distraction whispers within that I always strive to interrupt and challenge myself about the possible, the attainable and the achievable. I have to believe that at 56, there is no barrier to adventure, new horizons, long-term planning, fresh perspectives, knowledge and new ideas.

Indeed, things are harder as youth begins to creep away into the distant past, nothing is impossible. Obviously, I have to lay out plans, things to do, things to undo, places to go, lives to impact, even legacies to build amongst the myriad issues of life. My health is good, I have worked to attain some fitness, taken precautions in the midst of a pandemic, applied my energies where they can be productive and profitable.

Thanks and more thanks

My very close friends, Kola, Funmi, Steven, Patrick, and Sola, have supported me marvellously, urging me on through the days to the better and the brighter, they are all so different and yet together in their relationships with me bring a kind of completeness into the things that concern me. Thank you.

My longsuffering siblings and even niblings (nieces and nephews) who all can supplant me as firstborn, not on a pot of soup like Esau, but in my demonstrated childlike demeanour, they give me such purpose, I am fulfilled. My aged parents being who they always have been, I love you all.

Most of all, I celebrate today again with the love of my life, Brian. You are my joy, you have persevered through these uncertain times of limitations, restrictions, and distance. I have truly been blessed with the incomparable companionship of an angelic being. You are the best.

I live like that there are not many tomorrows to come and as each day comes, new dreams tell of tomorrows I could never have anticipated with the hope and assurance that much more would be seen to laud, celebrate, and cherish. I am thankful for the day, today, the blessings, the prayers, the love, the life, and the joy it has brought. Faithful, my God is daily and always.

Making possible out of apparent impossibility

When the minor is major

There are times when I think I am going to do something rather impulsive triggered by a stroke of luck or good fortune, I am primed and ready in mind and thought as if to act and pounce upon the opportunity when it arises. That part is somewhat set up even if the practicalities of it have not yet been fully considered, I have the confidence that is a mere formality.

Then, there is a passage of time and fortuitously as the apparently mundane in life is happening, there is a confluence of events not exactly as the hope for that type of luck desired, yet it is a build-up quite unexpected but just as significant. A landmark is reached that makes you realise you have been sitting quite unbeknownst on a blessing, your unawareness is gifted by the fact that it is not so obvious or sudden, like miraculous or lucky.

Count the blessings, always

This is where we risk the mundane leading us into moot ingratitude and the apparently normal makes us seem unthankful and by that unreflective of how so wonderfully blessed, privileged and successful we are. Rash as one can be in decision-making, then determined as one can be in purpose, all things and I mean all things do work together for the good.

I am thankful that goodness, mercy, favour, and more surround me, that I am given more than enough sometimes as of right, as of requirement, as of worth, or as of just the way things work out, all of which one should not be ashamed to live in the reality of, then never forgetting to show that what has become possible to one should not be an impossibility to others who can just dare to dream it.

To what end ... is ingratitude?

Be thankful for everything

I saw a tweet earlier that made me reflect on the power of gratitude and the curse of ingratitude. This person out of the blue had paid into the account of a cousin, not substantial and yet not insignificant. The cousin rather than thank his benefactor suggested he was too big for the ordinary sum of money paid into his account. As fate would have it, the transaction was reversed, the benefactor richer with the opportunity to bless someone else, the cousin left with nothing.

So many thoughts crossed my mind about the reaction of that cousin, the thinking that informed him that it was better to project entitlement rather than gratitude. We make interesting assumptions about others when we have needs and ask for help without any inkling about the other responsibilities and calls upon the resources of the benefactor.

The tendency to feel that in the midst of our pressing need we have become the centre of the world to which everyone else should beckon first with priority before anything else is inconsiderate, selfish and demonstrate a lack grace.

You can’t decide for others

You cannot decide for a benefactor how they should dispose of their resources whether they be parsimonious or generous, it is their prerogative alone to decide who to give to and whether they are disposed to give at all. Now, even if the beneficiary is a person of great means that the gift is little or insignificant, the better sentiment is to think of the motive and the consideration with a thankful response.

I constantly check on my thankful spirit, whether I have been appreciative of the little as I have been of the much. I want my sense of gratitude to be alert, full of initiative and ready to give expression long before it is instigated. Its importance can never be overstated.

Gratitude as talent

I am reminded of the parable of the talents in the Bible, where a master about to travel distributed 8 talents amongst three servants. To one was handed 5 talents and I presume that servant had the capacity, the aptitude and the responsibility to handle 5 talents, when the master returned, he had doubled the investment. To another was given 2 talents according to their ability and the same doubled that investment. [Wikipedia]

The last was given one talent, my view is the servant given the talent for that sake of not being left out, the servant from the master’s opinion had none of the capacity of the other two servants and the master was proven right, the servant buried rather than invested the talent, then blamed the master for his failure to act like his wiser colleagues.

That one talent servant had the talent taken off him and given to the servant who managed 5 talents. The one talent servant was then thrown out of their job into destitution. In today’s setting it could be an unproductive employee who gets no promotion then gets sacked and receives no positive references to help them along.

Appreciating the power of gratitude

Yet, the spirit of gratitude is an enabler in ways we can never fully appreciate, it is in the being helpful, being considerate, being respectful, being available, being generous, being empathetic, having a listening ear, it is the open mind, the open heart, the open hand, the accepting rather than rejecting, the presence of mind to find a good perspective regardless, overlooking offence in the quest for agreement.

You get remembered favourably when opportunity comes, next time the benefactor has much more to give, I doubt the cousin will be in the list of those to be blessed. Ingratitude closes the small doors that lead to the grand gateways to amazing things in life. Sometimes, we need to have periods of introspection that help us realise whether a sense of ingratitude might have closed the door to new opportunity and make to redress that failing.

I have too many examples of where my perception of the power of gratitude as expressed in this blog has given me amazing opportunities and successes. I am thankful for the little and the plenty, every blessing is worthy of a sincerely grateful heart. There can be no good end to ingratitude but loss, penalty, punishment or to be forgotten where others are remembered, it is self-harm masquerading as arrogance, pride, delusions of grandeur, or an inflated sense of self.

Courtesy of the William Kentridge exhibition at Zeitz MOCAA, Cape Town.

A decade from AIDS to life and living

A day of thanks

Today marks an anniversary, a celebration of life in thankfulness and gratitude, quite a miracle too, but I cannot be any less grateful.

As the church service ended, we are asked if we have a point of prayer, we could visit a chapel to be prayed for. My prayer point was one of thanks, I told the priest that 10 years ago today I was admitted in hospital with full-blown AIDS and just a week later, I was told I only had 5 weeks to live if my physiology could not tolerate the medicine.

The week before my admission, I had visited my doctor with an unbearably painful weeping sore on the sole of my foot, it had started as what I thought was a fungal infection, probably Athlete’s foot in the summer, but it didn’t seem to go away.

My foolish pride

Meanwhile, I was praying and hoping that I might just get a miracle cure, I had gone to London the week before because one of the faith healing preachers that I had grown up with, in a fraught and challenging Pentecostal, Evangelical and Word-of-faith suffused environment was visiting. I was there expecting Jerry Savelle to lay hands on me and suddenly I will be made whole.

I battled with the wisdom and foolishness of my situation, hinting to my friend at one time that he must think I am mad to endure so much pain and not seek essential medical attention. I was looking for a quick-fix to a situation I paid little heed to until it was impossible to ignore it.

By the time I saw my doctor on the 15^th of September 2009, she was in no doubt that the condition I was in was serious. She plied me with painkillers and immediately scheduled a referral to a specialist hospital, the day after.

In the truth of my pain

At the hospital, they booked an appointment for me to attend the internal medicine department at the earliest possible time, that was 4 days away including the intervening weekend.

When I arrived at the hospital, the pain could only be eased with my foot up, whilst I was not yet in delirium, there were times I just cried out of utter anguish. I was in a wheelchair when the professor arrived to have a look at me. He said, under no circumstances could I return home, I looked too ill. In the next sentence, he said, “We have a bed for you upstairs.”

That began the first day of the 18 nights I eventually spent in the hospital. A battery of tests with processes of elimination followed, more importantly, they needed to be sure my condition was not a complication of diabetes, after which blood tests and a biopsy determined exactly what I had.

AIDS-defining cancer

On the sole of the left foot was advanced Kaposi's Sarcoma, a kind of skin cancer redolent of advanced AIDS complications, but also common to West Africans, mine was AIDS-defining. They could treat it with liposomal doxorubicin with the brand name Caelyx, a chemotherapy drug as long as I could tolerate it.

At the same time, I was put on antiretroviral drugs, the morphine painkillers had to be changed because after two days, I could keep nothing down, I had to tolerate the pain more than was necessary, but I was already on the mend.

On the blood test results, my HIV viral load was astronomically high, my CD4 count was at a nadir of 20, whatever was keeping me alive was beyond medical explanation but my consultant believed if I responded well to the concoction of treatments, I will survive this life-threatening situation.

And after this?

We had no discussion of life expectancy after this dire situation, but I had read a study that at my CD4 count before commencing treatment, rarely had people lived up to 10 years. That thought lingered in my subconscious as I realised and understood that I was beginning a new life after cancer.

And so today marks the day that I became an exception to the study, not so much one of my triumphs, yet, the marvel of modern medicine is revealed my body and the state of my health. Beyond it, I have lived an enchanted life, full of thanks and better attention to understanding my health, my options, adherent to advice and where I have had doubts, challenged the accepted premise. It is my body first before it is anyone’s guinea pig.

Giving thanks

I have medicine to thank, Prof Dr Kees Brinkman is exemplary and exceptional, with other consultants, nurses and medical personnel who have contributed their expertise towards my having this day worthy of note, I will soon visit to thank again.

My friends who stood with me through the toughest times of my life, I can neither thank nor repay enough, Kola, Ola, John (deceased), Sola, Kayode, Peter, Steve, Marc, the de Wolf family, the Kiran family, my C3 family in Amsterdam. Then many other people have in my frailty and my limited ability given opportunity, access, and chances to rebuild my career.

Then, I have a man who has put one of the widest smiles on my face, happiness in my life and joy in my heart, Brian. I am fortunate and thankful; I am probably one of the luckiest persons on earth today.

Postscript

One final note is to stress the need for regular testing, early diagnosis, getting involved in reviewing options for treatment, the immediate use of therapies and an understanding of the prognosis, the condition, and the prospects you have. Medicine offers the best outcomes for HIV/AIDS situations, and where other remedies intervene, their efficacy must always be tested and verified against medical results under supervision of a consultant. Only let medicine be the ultimate arbiter of any claim of a cure.

Finding me do what I would not do

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In the knowing

You cannot overdo appreciation as it stems from the acknowledgement of person, deed, event, or action. You acknowledge and notice, commend and compliment, give praise and sometimes as lavishly as the mode of communication chosen can afford it is all part of gratitude.

I have learnt to be thankful, thankful for so many things, the gift of life, the lifting from deathbed to enjoy life from a new perspective, the blessing of means to do things that would heretofore be impossible, the honour of friendships, people who give time, place, love, consideration and more for reasons you sometimes cannot comprehend, but you are grateful for them being around.

In the doing

The appreciation of love is a higher calling, one we tend to take for granted because love is always there open, ready, willing, able, exerting beyond duty, empathising in a oneness of spirit and soul, ever giving rarely demanding, it is mysteriously powerful.

To it we must respond with consideration and without confusion, knowing the genuineness in which it is offered and we learning to reciprocate in ways that enhance that exchange that is deeper than can be comprehended.

In the living

We must appreciate, we must celebrate, we must immerse ourselves in the beauty of love’s expression and in that find healing that no other medicine can give. It mends the hearts, glows in the face, puts a spring in the step and renews the youth tremendously.

There probably isn’t anything that can’t be done for love, because when it comes to it, it is unconditional and unconventional, selfless, and generous to a fault, you will do for love what you normally will not do. That is the full expression of appreciation.

Thought Picnic: Don't lose the honour of the opportunity to help

Regaining opportunity

“Opportunity once lost, can be regained, albeit, after a temporary setback.” This was a saying shared with me by an uncle figure when I was in secondary school. It became one of the most important pillars that stood for times when everything else seemed to have crumbled around me.

My parents from what I know were high-flying successful people in their academic lives and into their careers that I am not aware for any failures in anything they were educated and trained to do, except when they appeared to dabble in areas where they had no expertise. What I learnt from them was more along the lines of the age-old saying, “Opportunity once lost, can never be regained.”

Confidence and nothing over

Invariably, apart from aspiration and confidence, I cannot say I learnt anything about facing failure, really failing and finding the resolve and wherewithal to rise from that scrapheap to find new achievement. My dad would have been top of his class in his accountancy examinations in 1969, whilst he won other prizes, I am told he fell short out of over-confidence.

That story was told me when I decided on a minimum of 6 subjects for my West African Examinations Council finals out of secondary school in 1981, my mother intervened citing that I was exercising the same over-confidence that plagued my dad and ensured I had 8 subjects to contend with.

On finding opportunity after failure, that honour and privilege goes to other uncles who faced failure head-on, understood what it meant to fail and fail again, yet never relented until they succeeded. It is to them that I owe that other story of my life’s achievements, successes, privileges and good fortune. To them, my gratitude must remain inexhaustible.

The honour of opportunity

Which brings me to another perspective of opportunity and the use of the situation for the benefit not of ourselves, but of others. In all walks of life, we are provided to opportunity to open our hands and open our hearts, someone needing advice or help, a recommendation or reference, sometimes we are given the magnitude of influence to affect the future of someone else in ways that would put them on the trajectory of success well beyond what we could for ourselves achieve.

At some point in the life of another person, we are the sentinel, the gatekeeper, the possible force for good, that opportunity that has come in its time, yet, I am privy to information and circumstances where the myopia of some has beclouded their ability to see that for them to be in that position, it is an honour and a privilege, for that time alone, everything depends on them, and what do they do, they close the door.

You are not omnipotent

They have the power, the influence, the authority and maybe even the audacity and for their small-mindedness, they refuse others the allowance to progress. To them, there will never be gratitude, no praise shall be sung of them by others because they have sown bitterness and the curmudgeonly in the hope that all opportunity is destroyed.

Opportunity once lost, because of what you have done or refused to do, can be regained without you eventually, albeit, after a temporary setback that you put in place, but power and influence in transient.

The opportunity you once had to help can be lost forever, that does not mean opportunities are closed to the person providence honoured you to do something about at a particular time. The help you give is just a bonus, it makes you part of a better story, people would succeed with or without you.

Prepare yourself for gratitude

Yet, I must come back to the need for thankfulness and gratitude, honour those who see the honour of helping you as a privilege they would never let go of until they have contributed their utmost to the very best to see you get along. We have good people in this world amongst the fair-weather friends who are hollowed-out dregs of humanity, who pretend to smile with you only to find ways to be your detractors.

You know yourselves, you have betrayed the sacred trust of friendships and relationships, when you had the means to make a difference for the better. Your time will pass into ignominy. I am saddened to have lost respect for those of whom much more was expected.

Gratitude is an amazing uplifting spirit like I had my contract extended without prompting last week, on getting the news, I wrote to my managers thanking them for their confidence in me and the contract extension. In response, my manager wrote, “You’re welcome Akin, you deserve it!”

Thankful for the privilege my parents created for me

As Pharaoh.

A thankfulness reappraised

Sometimes, I just want to appreciate and be thankful for some of the things that have become the stories of my life.

In a life filled with privilege, opportunity, good fortune and blessings, or is it sheer luck, you can only be grateful. I was watching a programme on television yesterday title Rich House, Poor House on Channel 5 which is a documentary-style reality television programme that follows two families from opposites ends of class and wealth divides swapping their homes and lives for a week to experience what the other side lives.

On an abstract level, it was just entertainment, but it was also a social anthropological study to which one can begin to relate and understand the broad spectrum of society, the depth of empathy, the ability to reflect and the willingness to adapt.

Money helps but there is more

In yesterday’s show, you saw the amazing dynamic of community and neighbourliness in what one might call the deprived, yet the absence of means did not define them as lacking in humanity, love or the sense of belonging. The lack of money is not necessarily being bereft of happiness.

On the other side, where there was hardly any neighbours and a weekly spending kitty ten times what their counterparts in the exchange had to live on, the father of the house had cut down on life as an executive for health reasons and his wife reflected on how he could have worked himself to the death and whether life would have been worth it to be a rich widow. It is not all about money.

Yet, I could see privilege and opportunity in different guises in both families, the aspirational in terms of exposure and the inspiration in terms of experience ministered to me as lessons in life.

The lessons outside classes

What amazing luxuries that accompanied my early education in an international setting of races from all ends of the world in Nigeria, I born in a foreign land and those, not of Nigerian parentage born in Nigeria, we all equal and the same without one being favoured over the other.

The daughter of the headmistress once pinched me and when I returned home to tell my parents, my dad said I should never let anyone take advantage of me, I should retaliate. So, the bully who was older and bigger came again and I did to her what she did to me, she went crying to her parents. Her father was the head of the company where my dad was a middle manager.

A conversation ensued between her mother and my father, they settled on the fact that she was the bully and I refused to be bullied. She never tormented me after that and we became friends. The lasting effect of that encounter cannot be discounted.

Of privilege and access

My extra-curricular activities after school like being driven to art classes and my sister to ballet classes or when I was Pharaoh in our school’s production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, exemplified the richness of education unquantifiable in examination scores but trenchant in character building, self-affirmation and confidence bordering on exuberance. You find the ability to express yourself in places where normally others would be tongue-tied.

The parental quest to toughen me up and give me a sense of my cultural roots was sending me off to boarding school hundreds of miles away from home. In some ways, it was a hellish experience for the first few years, but I adapted.

I had other classmates who travelled by train from the north of Nigeria alone, catered for by strangers until they made it to school and they endured the same on their return home. I was put on a plane, there was someone to pick me up and ensure I was delivered safe and sound to the care of the housemaster. I also had relatives close by for the short holidays as well of visitors who when they came to visit their wards made it a duty to see me too.

Knowing who you are

I was raised in a bubble of sorts, an idyllic existence in Rayfield, Jos and in Tudun Wada, Kaduna, desperately shielded from many influences, though some were unavoidable due to proximity or circumstance, they became defining moments of exposure to sexual abuse, morbid fear, extreme religiosity, encounters with fetish priests and much else. All this is part of the narrative that has become my story.

In many ways, I have retained the accoutrements of privilege which have given me the various instances where I have been able to seize upon opportunities. It does not mean that I have not been visited by failure, infirmity, incapacity or misfortune, but they are not definitive of who I am, rather they are parts of the journey of life for which I have been grateful to traverse, survive and thrive.

I owe the grit and the suppleness to the exceptional upbringing I had and one more thing I would never repudiate is that I have been a child of privilege, not necessarily born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but given the tools and the means to navigate wealth and class in having both or neither without losing the quality of the person that I am. I have my wonderful parents to thank for that and I am always grateful to them.

Other members of the cast including me at different times in the musical play.

Note: All the pictures were taken of our performance of the musical, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the Sacred Heart Primary School, Kaduna in December 1975. I was Pharaoh of All Egypt.

Loving 52 and the stories that tell themselves

My miraculous existence

It is almost stranger than fiction that today marks my 52^nd birthday and this is for many reasons. It is my ninth birthday after cancer and I am still scarily within the timeframe of studies that suggest a precarious survival rate after the condition in which I was diagnosed.

Yet, I feel blessed that each year that I celebrate a birthday is one in which I can only be full of thankfulness and gratitude. Each birthday is for me very important, I mark each of them since 2009 as it would be my last, well aware of my vulnerabilities and still amazed by the grace, the favour and the resilience of the human body to recover where medicine seems to have reached the limits of its favourable interventions.

Emotional upheavals of thrills

It has been a long exhausting year which started with the lovingly sympathetic sharing of my story by my good friend Funmi Iyanda in forAkin on Bravery, Honesty and Thriving, a few days after, the love I thought I had was not ready for my love, it hurt.

Just imagine meeting your sister after 27 years, at The Terminal in Frankfurt, it has been a roller-coaster of emotional upheavals from the marriage of one sister, to the death of our baby sister to the rendezvous with my second sister.

In March, I made a radical career decision, one morning, I walked out of a job I had been doing for three years because I had endured enough of a new manager who over the 6 months of my reporting to him reduced me to nothing through disrespect, discourtesy and worse. He apparently did not last another 6 months after me, I neither applaud nor deride him.

Away but not astray

Since then, I have spent weeks away from home for work flung out to corners all around the United Kingdom, getting involved in challenging projects and meeting interesting people. I could not have planned how the year turned around for me that the greatest recommendation and support for the role I started in November came from one of the colleagues most affected by my departure in March.

I pinch myself at times wondering if any of it is real, considering August was a month where I literally had nothing and there was the sure and the steady rock of a friend like no other who kept me believing in tomorrow and myself. Kola Akinola, this is for you.

I am happy and thankful

In August too, my father found my story, his initial reaction was negative, then after an exchange of some long memories, there was reconciliation and acceptance, he remains one of the most reasonable people I have known in all my life. I have a mother too, that is all I can say for now.

To a point, I am very happy, I could be happier with someone to love and to share moments and experiences with, I need a man.

As I celebrate the number of years as there are full weeks in a year, even in my relapsed religious faith, I am thankful to God, grateful for friends, appreciative of moments, awed by experiences and looking forward to the opportunity to write again of another year of stories worth telling.

Thank you all for being here, being there and being near.

In gratitude and thankfulness

Thankful and joyful

Gratitude is a feeling that words never really find the breath and scope to express. Yet, one must never fail to be thankful for the mercies large and small that form the basis for lasting gratitude.

Eight weeks ago, I entered a regime of medication that was to treat an ailment that was discovered over three years ago. Doctors and committees disputed and vacillated in three different cities about the prognosis, the options and invariably the cost.

Blog - Thought Picnic: Facing it alone again but it is well

Fear and fair

New treatments were coming on-stream to replace older therapies that had been tried and tested, but were gruesome and difficult to handle, that was the prospect I faced just over 8 weeks ago and I was not particularly ready to suffer the ordeal.

When I got to the hospital on that day, I learnt that I had been considered for the new therapy, just a pill a day for 8 weeks with check-ups at Week-2, Week-4 and the end of treatment at Week-8.

The tests at Week-2 showed an amazingly dramatic improvement of my condition, the Week-4 result that I received today also showed such markedly improved progress in my condition, my organs recovering as a result of the treatment.

The expectation is that the visit to the phlebotomist today will indicate a complete eradication of the condition. Though, the assurance of a cure will only be determined at the twelfth and twenty-fourth week after the treatment.

Done and gone

I am very hopeful that this situation will become a part of my history as well as a heart full of thanks to the doctors, the nurses and the institution of the NHS that has given me many opportunities to survive since the day of my birth and consequently, I have thrived thereafter.

For all its many failings and problems, I have been blessed with option and opportunity in the NHS, sometimes slow and sometimes late, but still working, helping, encouraging and supporting the healing process.

Thanks and gratitude

There is no doubt that without the European health services I have availed myself of in The Netherlands, The UK, and Spain, I probably would not be writing this piece.

Beyond this, I am also grateful to my friends and family, my various acquaintances on social media who have offered support, prayers, encouragement, consideration and succour.

Thank you all, I am blessed.

Akin Akintayo: My inexhaustible gratitude at 50

The unlikely beginning

This evening, I sit in my hotel room, my heart full of wonder and gratitude at the amazing story of an event that had the possibility of never taking place.

One Tuesday morning, in the witching hour, just after the weekend, a young couple in a foreign land that had moved house from a major city to an almost rural town had to visit the hospital because the wife was feeling a bit unwell. She was kept under observation whilst her husband was sent home with the advice that he did not have to worry.

He woke up at 7:00 AM that morning to a telegram that not only had he become a father and he was needed at the hospital to sign some papers to allow for the child to be taken to a hospital in a bigger city because the maternity ward did not have the facilities to keep the child alive for long.

The improbable situation

That became the first story of a child, no bigger than the full stretch of his father’s hand, as he set off to spend some two months in incubation and his mother returning to work that day, no one the wiser that she had been a mother. The celebration had to wait.

Then six years ago, in his prime, after excess and much else that makes the story of a soul that walks this earth, there came another great threat, at the end of a diagnosis of cancer was the very probability that he only had five weeks to live, another difficult incubation of adversity, loss and recovery redefined his perspective as a survivor again. The bigger celebration will have to wait.

The unexpected results

Yet, the day cannot pass without an acknowledgement of the grace, the mercy, the love, the thankfulness and the gratitude for what in my seemingly ordinary life is turning into an extraordinary story.

Each day counting up to year and decade and today, I find that the improbable, the unlikely, the unexpected and the unusual have gathered into my story to make the remarkable at least to me and to the very many who have contributed so significantly to the life I now celebrate.

There are influences in my life that have shaped my outlook, my philosophy and my thinking, for this season, I am like another nativity scene born into stringent circumstances and given the opportunity to survive and thrive. To God be the glory for this day and this life, for my eyes have seen such beauty and wonder beyond my wildest dreams, my heart has felt heavy and full, my body has borne pain and pleasure and my feet has walked the paths of hope and adventure to fulfilment time and again.

My inexhaustible gratitude

My parents, my siblings, my wider family of uncles, aunties, cousins, relations, my friends and friendships, my acquaintances, helpers, succourers, neighbours, the loves of my life present and departed, the memories and there are many, thank you for having me and seeing me as one of you, as you have been burdened with my frailties and congregated to celebrate my successes, I am honoured beyond words can suitably express.

May we all find better stories to tell beyond where we are and find in our pursuit of happiness the joy of living, the appreciation of things great and small, counting our blessings daily and being thankful for all things.

I present myself to you again, a man at 50. God bless you all.