Drought in bladderland

You’ve seen it all before

I guess when it comes to health and medical issues you must forget to be embarrassed and face things with, well, an injection of humour.

When I was in hospital in late 2009, I needed to have a shower and I was in such dreadful pain being supervised by a nurse. She pulled the curtains to shield me, but in that state of sheer vulnerability, it meant nothing to me.

I simply told her, "In your job, you have seen so much that I do not care for what you see now", as I invited her to scrub my back and hose me down. We can be precious about the common things, when in the hospital, honesty, frankness, openness, and truth matter more than anything to get the right outcomes.

A drought in the bladder

So, this morning I got a call from a nurse at the GP surgery, we know each other, and she wanted a sample that I could not produce on demand. Well, after waking up and everything with the ablutions there is nothing to give.

As the conversation progressed, I asked if this could be medically induced, like cloud seeding the bladder, that sort of thing, you should never give the medical establishment those kinds of thoughts to work on.

For want of a better word, we agreed that I could visit when I am pressed and at the surgery, I’ll be given a container for it. Then, it might just need fear or terror to unwittingly wet yourself, why that surprises me when I once had juvenile enuresis is interesting. All they want to do is take the piss.

Blog - Childhood: Atọ̀ọlé (October 2010)

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.

The chaplaincy of Chortles-upon-Whereitsat

Cameras at the ready

On many occasions, I find myself taking funny orders, inconspicuously traipsing the streets of Manchester, and accosted by some who commend my sartorial taste to the extent of being asked to be photographed.

I was in a conversation on my phone at St Peter’s Square when a man decked out in full Rastafari garb, lots of Jamaican colours from head to toe came into my purview and as I remonstrated that I was otherwise engaged, with hand signals and gestures, I obliged a picture. Then he sat beside me while his partner snapped away, then he gave a wave and left.

Dressing up is an art

On a Sunday afternoon, I could acknowledge five variations of dapper or looking good from the hat to the whole ensemble, it is like I cannot dress down. Interestingly, if I do have to visit an office, in my life of work where I have had many suits, shirts and ties, I would rather wear them than leave them to feed moths.

For all the easing of formalities, having once worked in the city, the business capital of the United Kingdom, I am quite a reminder of a bygone age, with a bowler hat too for the cold and frigid winter days.

A chaplaincy I assume

This evening, I was at church for the valedictory service in honour of the outgoing Archdeacon of Rochdale, it was a well-attended event with all the trappings of Anglican traditions and all the extant clergy of the diocese and beyond. Quite a fine service before a small reception of hot beverages and cake.

As I was making my way to the table to be served, I was approached by a parson who I had met before at another event, he came with the familiarity of a bear hug, before he began to discuss clerical opportunities in the diocese, I guess I was being confused with someone else. I however could not reject such due consideration for the chaplaincy of Chortles-upon-Whereitsat.

A chortle we did have when I suggested, I could consider taking holy orders, as for where and when, I would have been expected to wear a dog collar for the event rather than a day cravat, or had I inadvertently converted one into the other? A conversation about doppelgangers ensued, they look nothing like me, and an unfortunate case of prosopagnosia becomes more humorous than to be maligned.

Dr Jerry Savelle (1946 - 2024)

A persuasion in pain

My Christian faith has led me on many journeys, in the search of purpose, knowledge, and insight on the issues of life along with looking to understand why we exist and what kind of legacy we might leave, to hope that in the annals of time, our footsteps show sure paths and our deeds are impactful in the lives of others.

In early September 2009, I was in excruciating pain and literally dying from cancer tumours that had consumed most of the area of my left sole and the underneath two of my toes. The only way I could walk on that foot was to bandage it tightly and wear a pair of monk shoes. I had not convinced myself of what remedy for this suffering might be.

Maybe a miracle today

My days and nights were preoccupied with listening to sermons on divine healing as I am also of a Pentecostal inclination; I have followed many leaders of that persuasion in the teachings and revelations they have shared for decades. Skimming through some of the websites of these preachers, I happened upon the itinerary of Jerry Savelle and instinctively, I booked a flight from Amsterdam to London with the view to attend every venue he would be appearing at.

In visiting, I informed some friends who met up for either of the two sessions that I attended, it was also a time of reckoning for me because until then, much as I would have wanted a miracle of healing to deal with this problem, a sense of irresponsibility of allowing my condition to deteriorate to the state I was in quickly dawned on me, because I then found the courage to admit to the seriousness of the disease I had until then kept mainly to myself.

An impartation of sense

Dr Jerry Savelle ministered in two different churches where the fawning of the overseers did not help the setting. The man of God then offered to lay hands on the whole congregation, but I was more like the thronging crowd than the woman with the issue of blood. If I received any virtue, it was commonsense. I did not regret my journey; it just gave me context to tackle an existential threat.

I returned home and booked an urgent appointment with my medical doctor and what followed was a referral, chemotherapy, and a survival which at prognosis if I did not tolerate the therapy left me with just 5 weeks to live.

God is good, always

Dr Jerry Savelle was a raconteur, a man who told wonderfully interesting stories about his Christian walk, he preached and taught about faith, favour, grace, the goodness of God, his motorbike and vintage car collection, his aeroplanes, and the many missions he had in Africa and all over the world. He encouraged and enthused, the titles of his sermons of which I have many just made you want to listen to what he had to say.

In Hard Times God Will Rescue You (YouTube playlist) is one set of 3 sermons he preached in 2022 that I have listened to many times in the last year to find great encouragement during my own personal hard times. Whenever I have needed the lifting up of my spirit and a reassurance of God’s love, I would seek out a message by Jerry Savelle either from my large MP3 archive of messages going back 25 years or a recent online impartation to the body of Christ on his itinerary in recent times.

An exemplary man of God

He represented a man of integrity, principle, purpose, faith, and good humour. He had been mentored by and been friends with many of the great men of faith who have either passed on or are well into their 80s. While I am saddened at his passing, he was a sure example of how to live the Christian life and be an exemplar of the eternal life that now is unto the life to come.

He always spoke fondly of Carolyn, his wife of almost 60 years, his two daughters and his grandchildren, he lived a full, exciting, and wonderful life. I think one quite important thing I learnt from his teachings was God is also interested in the things that bring us joy, be they pursuits or hobbies, as long as they do not distract you from eternal purpose.

He will be missed, but with the body of work in books, sermons, teachings, and stories he left for us, we can be thankful there was someone who showed that the person and character of God is for us to really find out, know of, and revel in the joy of living, knowing Jesus Christ and God the Father.

Thought Picnic: In time we travel in strange individuality

Using time for a purpose

Time is a journey that we traverse for which we know neither the length of it in the existence of things nor the sections that punctuate the start or the end of what defines a life.

Life is represented in birth, living, and death, events becoming milestones that govern the stories we get to tell. Indeed, I write a lot about telling stories, my own stories, the stories of interactions, and the stories that I narrate of my observations of others.

Relationships form a significant part of how these stories develop, some of these relationships thrive on nurturing with due consideration and others wither because selfish posturing pervades the context.

How it made you feel

Invariably, I curate my relationships in interesting ways. The ones in which I naturally belong that I did not initiate have suffered more because ties are generally of obligation rather than of interest. The influences from nativity into adolescence have laid a marker of unresolved trauma and consequences that leave one in a state of sad disinterest.

Yet, these are my roots, in need of understanding and exploration even as the outlook that becomes me suggests I am totally different from where I am supposed to have some affinity.

It is not what many may understand and there is a likelihood that some regret might greet the further passage of time for which I am wont to allow resignation than ruefulness. Emotions can be attached or detached, and this is within the model of feelings of direct or indirect abandonment that constitute the upbringing I enjoyed that others might recall differently.

With autonomy, you find your own posse in the partners and friends, acquaintances and networks, communities and involvements which are parts of your interests and give some purpose to living.

I will tell my own story

What no one can do is tell my story just because they are part of my story, they can choose to forget what I remember vividly or even misremember the details of how I was affected. It is not a gift many possess to read the mind of another or sense the internal turmoil that is the reflection of a situation.

This is what makes us unique, consanguinity hardly affords similarity in looks, character, personality, experience, or life. Having the same source is hardly indicative of the direction of flow, we diverge from the moment we draw breath and travel these storied journeys until the last breath.

When the books are closed, an account is made that constitutes a tribute of sorts, where is fondness, there is much to mourn and the absence of which leaves us untouched to the point of being unconcerned and indifferent.

What we do for the dead is more for assuaging the conscience of the living for the dead can do nothing for themselves. In the end, what they have sown in life bears fruit as to how they are revered. What is cultivated poorly yields a poor harvest, where there is no work, whatever the result, that is what is there to see.

Beyond cancer threat to stories of health

Winded by the speed

The speed at which things have moved presented a cause for concern much in the need of allaying any anxiety. As you pay attention to your health and seek the best outcomes, some processes and procedures become a medical requirement for ensuring things are nipped in the bud at the earliest opportunity.

A few blood tests, a conversation with my GP and a visit to the surgery for a preliminary assessment have set me on the path to a date with some of the best urologists in the field and what my GP casually suggested would be a scan, might well be a bit more uncomfortable at this studio that offers a one-stop shop of tests superficial and intrusive, aided by a local anaesthetic.

The scheduled duration of 30 minutes could last up to 4 hours and all that is in an appointment letter that landed before I picked up the post proposing an analysis of my GP’s request.

Checking off cancer prospects

Before one is a potential cancer diagnosis or just the discovery of the cause of symptoms that could not be explained from being felt up in a funny place. Having dealt with cancer before, I can safely suggest it does not entirely prepare you for the prospect that you might be checking for it and unsure until you are given the all-clear.

Health stability in managing long-term conditions can lull one into complacency and a renewed sense of invincibility. Life is fleeting, each day is a gift and a blessing for which we should be thankful and grateful.

Beyond every looming threat

What you find in certain issues of life, is you need to cultivate your support network of significant persons that would buoy you through tough times. People with whom to share burdens and talk about things, partners, friends, and others, depending on how comfortable you feel about things.

My faith is also a critical source of succour and strength, feeding on the encouragement of the Word of God in the Bible and in the sermons of anointed preachers to confidently call those things that be not as though they were.

The times I have faced life-threatening diagnoses and conditions with the hope and assurance that I have the grace of a better story and a testimony seeking to be told; whether the threat or reality of cancer, it would not be the last you’ll hear of me.

Other reading

Blog - Cancer is a human experience, not a battle won or lost

Blog - When I had the murderous cancer of denial

Blog - Thought Picnic: I share hoping it can help

Blog - Cancer: No journey is the same

An inspector calls again

Just moved in?

In the tenth year of my residency, I get asked questions like I had just moved in 10 days ago. “Are there any leaks?”, she asked. You know damn well if anything was not functioning, I would have logged a call. That reminds me, to save my manicure as apparently the union of nail technicians is on strike for better conditions of work and pay, my dishwasher needs looking at.

It was a house inspection by the letting agency that was first dated for the month before arriving 3 weeks later than intended. It just so happens; that the same inspection was conducted by the building managers a few weeks ago but I entertained the knock on my door this morning, without remonstrating too much about the obvious fact that these activities need to be coordinated.

I allowed them the run of the house as I returned to my desk to oversee the screens of engagement before me. Doors open, cupboards inspected, mutterings among them and then Jobsworth supercilious becomes her.

Hear it scream

My fire alarm and before I knew it, the riot act with every act of parliament, the law and whatever else was being read to me in the tone of an emphatic Gotcha! Heck, the other guy who was here a few weeks ago inspected the same fire alarm.

As she sang the refrain, “By law, it is the responsibility of the tenant to ensure that the battery is changed in the fire alarm.” I picked up my piano bench, moved it under the fire alarm, stood on it and pressed the test button. We were greeted with a shrill sound that no one had the readiness to shield their ears from and she was fully clipboard-equipped to my utter glee.

Then, I pressed the test button again which I think made her tick the required box, no apology but a full acquiescence to the fact that the fire alarm is working. By then, they must have felt fully welcome in my abode and before I could offer them tea and biscuits, they were ready to leave. What a shame, I was just beginning to enjoy their company. Not!