Gosh! I'm giving writing advice

Maybe I can write

I inadvertently found myself giving some advice on writing the other day on my way to the hospital. I get commended more for my ability to write even if I rarely appreciate the talent I am supposed to have in expressing myself in words.

Then, after over 20 years of blogging, I might have earned a basic status from the act of practice, called experience that may help others along the way. I know there is no formula to it, but we tend to stress ourselves so much that we are left incapable of doing what we hope to do.

How I tend to write

Putting my views into basic tips, it can all boil down to the following:

• Writer's block happens to everyone, you're overthinking the piece like counting your chicks before they are hatched, and that’s why it seems quite hard to start.
• Discipline yourself to just start writing and the rest would flow. You can review it later to make the adjustments, clarifications, and editing later. And much later after it has been published.
• I have rarely written a blog the way I originally imagined it would turn out. In most cases, I have just a word or a phrase, I develop it like a seed and water it with words that follow.
• Trust the process, trust your skill, start the journey and follow the route wherever it takes you to any amazing destination you get to.
• You can abandon something for a while until the framework or ideas reform into something you can use. Do not beat yourself up for that.
• Only what you publish gets read, what is left in draft form is like opening a restaurant but serving no customers.

This may only work for some; you eventually emerge with your own way and style of writing that you begin to type, and your new tapestry of ideas begins to unfold. However, what you must never do is stymie or kill the urge to write. Your story matters, you never know who will benefit from your experience.

Thought Picnic: Everybody who hurts can find healing too

R.E.M. - Everybody Hurts (Official HD Music Video)

In strength and weakness

I may have a listening ear, and to some, who are close to me, I have had outbursts. Much as I attempt every means of self-control and restraint, the dam can hold no more water and it bursts. I have to remember sometimes that I do not have the answers, the understanding, the knowledge, or the wisdom for certain situations.

Even where I appear to be wise, it is usually a gift of inspiration that I cherish a lot, how to put things in perspective, cutting out the unnecessary, the sentimental, the subjective, or just the emotional. Clinical is not always what people want to hear, but the truth is a salve better than the succour of false comfort that barely addresses the issue.

We all need somebody

Then, I wonder, what am I doing for myself? How am I healing and getting the rest I need to have the peace and comfort I desire? The quest for happiness caught in snatches of time, impeded sometimes by the insufficiency of means, yet powered by an irrepressible force of faith and hope, watered with love that thrives in all circumstances. In that alone, I feel blessed.

We bear many burdens, to many we have unlimited resources of strength in mind and character, our figurative and proverbial shoulders stretch like a mountain range, grounded in the core of the earth and found in the lofty reaches of the clouds, covered in snow to cool the heat of things upset and upturn lives in unimaginable ways. Life is not a simple story; we just make every moment count.

Everybody cries, everybody hurts, and everybody feels, all in different ways with myriad ways to express themselves in the things that affect them. The silence might be screaming so loud inside. The smiling might be weeping thunderstorms of distress and turmoil that the face hides in a veil of the indecipherable. What I hide under the finery of my appearance and apparel is a world of my own humanity and vulnerability that probably finds words of expression here.

Seeking to live the dreams

Then I want to find my own foxhole to burrow deep into to hide from the world for a while, to slip into a kind of hibernation of absence where the dreams that play are of the beauty of heaven, the joy of living well, of strength, facility, and immeasurable ability with the daring that blows the mind.

That also does not have to be just a dream, for the dream maker seeks to make those dreams come true beyond anything we have ever thought, wanted, sought, desired, seen, heard, or imagined possible.

I have always thought there is a better way, many times I scramble to find the door and fall on the way, but I will never relent in seeking to walk the path that the mighty have walked to tell better stories than those ever told before.

The note that crept in

As systems are wont to do

Not that he needed to eavesdrop,
Nor stand at a door kept open with a prop,
It was written between the lines,
The new realities it seeks and clearly defines,
As they whisper in hushed tones,
The citadels shiver with the moans and groans,
A moment of indiscretion,
Brings forth the stark facts of a revelation,
Obviously, an explanation was sought,
Then came an apology to stem a rage to report,
Maybe it is still in process,
Before we make it something we confess,
And some time of just waiting,
Your breath belaboured and then abating,
What the future holds is heaving,
Trust the Lord to keep in the land of the living.

Telling new tales again in blood

Just for the blood

I winced in nearly excruciating pain as the phlebotomist tried to extract 10 vials of blood from my veins and was most assuredly doing it from a muscle or tissue in my arm. The flow had stopped early and the wriggle room she found was a bruising stab with push and ease to fill the vials with blood.

This was the most ever that had been extracted for tests since I attended a follow-up consultation for my biannual checkups. In my discussion with the consultant registrar who saw me on Wednesday morning, I presented all my concerns with the results I had been getting for the past 8 months to determine any trends to address issues early.

Before giving blood, I was asked for a urine sample, the colour was richly white wine yellow and not too bad a bouquet, as I explained to the nurse to account for the fact that I had a prostate biopsy a few weeks ago, and this might affect the quality of the urine sample. It was however the most painful blood clinic I ever attended.

Even when they could not find blood and I had been punctured to the effect that I could pass for Swiss cheese, pain was never a component of that experience as this was, the comforting just-a-scratch statement before you are stabbed with a hypodermic needle was replaced with the phrase, ‘almost done’ and there were still 5 vials to go. It was her poor technique and nothing to do with me having latent or actual belonephobia, which could easily induce the fear of medical procedures if I remember the staple gun sound of the biopsy procedure.

Turning up and turning out

However, the day started slowing with what was a night of not enough sleep and as I planned my journey to the hospital, I decided on an easier ride that took me through backroads I have walked many times but never plied in a vehicle. The driver was the first of many who complimented me. The desire to present a sunny disposition regardless of the circumstances remains one I enjoy.

As I stepped out of the vehicle when we got to the hospital, a nurse stopped me in my tracks too and with her compliments said words to the effect, “It is nice to see a gentleman take the time to dress up nicely.” It might be a hospital where we all come to a humbling of our humanity, but that should not mean the absence of humour, goodness, brightness, and something to put a smile on people’s faces. I think my mere appearance did as much for some.

More than miscellaneous

Having printed out my notes from that last visit that needed updating and corrections, we dealt with my health, my welfare, my social situation, the many questions I had, the opportunities for a new line of therapies I was not ready to assume until I had read up on the study. Strangely, medical decisions had been made to include this in our regimen even as Europe, Australia, and New Zealand, along with China and Japan did not have any participants in the cohort study. I had my misgivings.

As I asked for another serum folate check which determines whether I have a folic acid deficiency, another one could not be booked as there had to be a 90-day lapse from the last check in the hospital systems. I then realised that my general practice and the hospital shared the same blood laboratory. The hospital had visibility of all the results, whereas my general practice could only see the results of the tests they had ordered.

The integration and agglomeration of systems cannot come sooner, they need to be reading from the same set of data, not repeating tests to confirm situations. I sought and got an alignment of my pill regimes which had gone askew since 2018 but had me putting in a new prescription for one of them last month because my usual April – October consultations had drifted to November – May, and now is on a June – December biannual cycle.

It was a nice outing to the hospital, not much bruising in my arm and I caught up on much-needed sleep.

Men's things - VIII

Interpreting bloods and dreams

In preparation for my biannual consultation today, I printed out sheaves of information for which in the analysis I would hope to have satisfactory, convincing, and comforting medical assessments of the situation. Like the kings of old, their dreams then and our blood results today, need interpretation. They hold some keys to the future.

The bloods have been telling wild stories of rage and range that has led me into many lairs of the medical establishment for observation, through inspections, radiography, biopsies, and another set of appointments and scheduled tests. It is tough if a king cannot remember what they dreamt, just as it is difficult if you cannot review your blood and other results to ask pertinent questions.

Silence is never an option

Having a long-term health condition you have effectively managed for about 15 years gives you some experience handling how doctors relay or disseminate information. You have to read the obvious and then read between the lines. In the UK, they are not as direct and forthcoming as our Dutch neighbours, they are reserved though a certain cohort is abrupt with a patrimonial bedside manner.

The Dutch are interventionists, they do not wait and see how things develop, they go after the issue with alacrity and immediacy. I recall my Dutch doctor saying, “This looks serious, I have to refer you.” She was already on the phone making appointments and speaking with urgency, I could be in no doubt about the seriousness of the situation. When I saw the professor, a few days later, he said, “We have a bed for you upstairs.” That was the beginning of an 18-night stay in the hospital in September 2009.

That compared to how three different health institutions vacillated for almost 3 years on a co-morbidity that could be treated and then I was put on new therapeutic drugs, but this was after I had a conversation along the lines of, “I am well aware of my mortality, what are you going to do about this co-morbidity?”

We have to talk about it

Regardless of who you are seeing, it is evident you must have a good understanding and grasp of your situation and give full voice to your concerns unrelentingly until you get satisfactory answers leading to hopefully, your desired outcomes.

Next week, I will be attending a follow-up consultation to discuss the results of the transperineal prostate biopsy I had just over 3 weeks ago. What has been scheduled has left me almost falling off my seat. There is a multidisciplinary team (MDT) with the qualifications of pelvic and urology along with the elephant in the room, who have set something up for the day after with no detail and this has an expiry of a year hence. As it comes under the topic of upcoming tests and procedures, I am left wondering, is this adopting a wait-and-see approach, or there is really nothing to see, and we are just in close monitoring?

You can bet I have many questions for all my follow-up consultations, I am not a tough customer, just one who knows what everyone should know for themselves. “It is my body first before it is your Guinea pig.” Selah!

Blog - Men's things

Blog - Men's things - II

Blog - Men's things - III

Blog - Men's things - IV

Blog - Men's things - V

Blog - Men's things - VI

Blog - Men's things - VII

NB: I use bloods to mean blood tests.

Thought Picnic: Taking a sniff at the stalk

A stalker strikes again

There is a saying that could be haunting as it could be disturbing, but rather than consider the saying it is the thought of being stalked or watched without knowing that you have featured as a target in a sniper scope.

Without being confronted, you are affronted by an invasion seeking to upset and discombobulate, someone aims to remotely control your every move inducing a sense of paranoia and caution leaving you wondering whether you are safe from harm.

I have navigated many such stalking episodes over the years that go back decades and have had experiences of attempted blackmail, threat of exposure, or possible embarrassment. I have addressed many such occasions with the resolve that I will not allow myself to be compromised and become a pawn at the behest of some cowardly agent seeking to cause distress.

Scuppered by recalcitrance

Where I could have had an ally and supporter in these issues, there has been a blank refusal to share pertinent information to help terminate the ability of such nefarious persons to sow discord and distrust. It is their prerogative to decide what they think is best even after persuasive arguments have been made to suggest a united front against an unseen enemy against using such material to insinuate betrayal.

One thing I will not abide with is chicanery by those who should know better. I can be impulsive as much as I can be decisive. What seems a done deal can quite easily be cancelled, I will not stand for threat, innuendo, or inference. I am deeply invested, and I can also cut my losses.

The less said, the better

I suppose I will not be treated as an adult, as I am being confronted with the undertones of an allegation. In that case, I will not cower in the fear of dread of being found wanting because of some failings that could both be expressed in the propensity for a liaison without essentially acting on it. An alter ego can be an outlet for certain frustrations, it separates the real from the imagined.

Many emotions are difficult to express in the kind of directness and detail demanded, however, I will not address this elsewhere. To say I am annoyed is an understatement, when I choose to be silent over expressing my thoughts, I have decided to be foolish, dumb, defenceless, and incapable – it is sometimes the smartest thing to do. You never know, when the time is right, what was left unsaid will have more than any impact imaginable.

Trains, bloodstains, and brains

A deathly train smash

You are always trying to figure out what persuades people to bring it all to an end. Our sorrowfully sympathetic inclination is then put upon by the public stage they have adopted to bring the screaming crescendo of existence to the deafening silence of an ignominious end on a busy intercity railway line.

You do wonder if this was deliberate, a murder perhaps, or an accident. Only some days before, the transport police published a YouTube video of a near miss at a railway crossing.

A pedestrian in a pique of nonsensical urgency had clambered over the lowered barrier gate, ignoring the flashing lights or the siren to cross and be on their way. Just as a speeding train missed sending him splattering into oblivion.

Easy living interrupted

Over an hour's wait of being detained on our train at Milton Keynes Central railway station, we were told that the remains and quite likely in many places had been removed and we might soon be proceeding to London having enjoyed the train company's generosity of a free bottle of still water.

You cannot be left in any doubt, that the incident of a human being impeding a fast-moving train is almost always irrecoverable. The definiteness of being a goner is as sure as the going is quite gone that we can agree the person is totally gone.

In the aftermath of it

We may never know the name of this victim of seemingly untenable circumstances that defy understanding. That we are caught in this temporary delay for the eternal departure of another should neither be seen as selfish nor selfless, for but the grace of God go we.

There may be regrets as there might be mourning. The emergency services attending another gruesome sight that might haunt or leave them inured, after witnessing similar tragic endings and cleanups.

As we pray for the repose of the soul of the too swiftly despatched, may journey mercies attend us to our destinations.

Life can be a fleeting thing, O that we may have the joy of living to be thankful regardless of what experiences we have had. I arrived safely over 2 hours behind schedule, I am grateful for life, security, safety, and hope.