My 2025 Birthday

As I sit here towards the end of the day of my birthday, reflecting on how beautifully unique this day has been, I remember that I promised to share my blog with more people today.

Am I ready for that move? Absolutely not! But is there ever … Will there ever be … a time when the chips are all in place for a big launch? I doubt it. The human mind doesn’t allow satiety, lest it be branded lazy, mediocre, and the like.

Where do I start? First, I'll tell you about my day, which started before 4 am. The heat was awful, and the electricity kept going out, so I couldn't sleep much. I picked up my phone and saw a long message that started with 'Happy birthday’—my first birthday wish. But the message swiftly devolved into an anticlimactic account of what the sender believed I had done to hurt them. I decided to respond and clear the mess before the crack of dawn because I intended to have a joyful day. That I did! Couldn’t sleep; I tossed and turned, thinking about the memories I have helped create for others.

6:25 am, I was in the car to the office—a pinkish red dress never worn to work before, black stilettos because why not, and maroon lipstick. It was a busy day in the office, and then I received a call—someone was at the gate for me. My friend, who is the twin sister of another friend, had arrived with beautiful red roses in one hand and a cute little cup that reads, ‘You’re my lobster.' Sure, the phrase is a reference from the series 'Friends,' which I never watched because it was too popular for my liking. Pictures, pictures… WhatsApp and back to work. Ooohhhh! But hold on… those roses are to die for.

Then walks in my friend and colleague. She had ordered a bucket of chicken from a Chinese fast-food joint, which we picked up at the gate, and I saved it for later. Of course, today is the last day of my dawn-to-dusk fasting (starving, according to my young friend, side note, she won't make heaven), and I must hit the finish line.

Now let me back track… I did something monumental today. I took a leap of faith and sent an email that could change the course of my 9-to-5 life. I won't reveal the specifics right now, but I firmly believe that I was obeying God's instruction, and I am certain that I will be writing a testimony about it soon. 

Back home, I enjoyed the chicken while reverting to the thoughts I had in the wee hours of the morning. It's easy to think about what others have done for you, but it's also good to reflect on how you've affected their lives. I forgot to mention that I posted a rare update on my WhatsApp status at 3 am. Simple message—'Typical April Day. Empty bank account but extremely grateful and happy.' The truth of this statement hinges on the specific bank account in question. I’m sure I have mentioned in a previous post the correlation between my birth month and the amount of disposable money I have left by my birthday. This year is no exception, but the money was used for a good cause, including giving someone a once-in-a-lifetime experience of travelling abroad to visit a sibling. I thought of the times I have stood in the gap between people and new life experiences, whether it be paying for travel, education, coaching for job interviews, or even just seeing another perspective that changed their way of thinking. Those accomplishments made me smile. Who am I? What’s my purpose in life? I wonder.

As this day draws to a close, I am grateful for all the kind messages and gifts of love that I received—from family, friends, and acquaintances. I am grateful for the opportunity to serve others in many ways. I can’t express enough gratitude for divine providence that provides and provides and provides, enabling me to give and give some more. I have a deep appreciation for the person I am, the family I am constructing, the life I live, and the people who surround me; however, my greatest love is for God.

 

When ‘Nothing, really’ really feels good

I’ve been feeling like time is being stolen from us – feeling like a day is no longer 24 hours, second for second. We are always rushing, late and indeed ‘running late’ has become an expression of choice when we are running behind schedule. Then COVID-19 came, and people suddenly found themselves with too much time in their hands as the world slowed down. After the initial shock, Parkinson’s law kicked in – ‘Work expands to fill time available’, and humanity creatively crafted more work for themselves, and then time became a constraining factor once again. See the cyclical nature of this? Anyway, let me refocus and circle back to time later.

In March 2021, I left a good remunerating job with awesome medical cover after more than nine years. This job required average intensity, which had really become low intensity because of COVID-19, yet the salary remained the same. I had wanted to leave for a while but needed a good reason and courage to step out, indeed on hindsight I was seeking any reason. I started on a short-term consultancy, minimal medical coverage, high intensity, skills demanding, time consuming, fast paced job. This, to anyone who didn’t know me would have felt crazy – but the people who knew about this transition understood that such crazy is something that I could excel in. Three contract renewals and a series of recruitment tests later, I accepted a more permanent position with the organization. For this to take effect, it was mandatory that I took a one-month break in service. This was about the most excited I had felt in a long time. Colleagues were wondering why I was excited about an unpaid break, and HR staff explained to me twice to ensure that I understood I won’t be paid during my break. Of course, I clearly understood, and I wasn’t thinking about the lost income, I was excited for the time gain.

As I write, I am six weeks into the break that was supposed to be four weeks long, and I’m not complaining. This is not because I have projects that I started or am engaged in that necessitate more tine. In effect, I didn’t set any objectives for myself during this break – I could have learned to sew, gardened, honed my knitting skills, travelled, visited friends, read a book a day, etc. Instead, I decided this time I’ll let time take control and my only goal was my life’s goal of staying happy today, now, this moment. So, when asked what I have been doing these past weeks, my simple response has been ‘nothing, really’ and it really feels so good. When I look back at these past weeks, I realize no amount of salary could pay for the time spent doing ‘nothing, really’. The cherry on the cake and the most important assessment has been what my son has said/asked so many times ‘Mommy, I wonder why you have become so relaxed and nice’. My response – ‘Well son, it is because I’ve had many days of doing nothing really, and it feels so great’.

Age or Maturity… or a Combo

These past couple of days my mind has been reeling the film of memories of my ageing… maturity journey. It’s a little confusing to me, it’s not a perfect graph and the pencil is still in action, drawing strokes, sometimes discontinuous. There are gaps in my memory because my brain compartmentalizes a lot, and there is a recycle compartment as well as ‘permanently deleted’ section. I used to be that student who forgets the names of their mates during the 2.5 months of summer break, and it has gotten worse with age. But I digressed, let me stick to this ageing/maturity dichotomy.

I loved my twenties… the freedom, the growth, the new experiences and a lot of first times. The first part of that decade for me was very memorable. I graduated from university, engaged in service learning and volunteering for random things like typing out the manuscript of someone’s memoir and establishing administrative documents and procedures for a catholic secondary school, had a couple of temporal jobs and then got a full-time employment. On the growth side, I had a major heartbreak, and even as significant as this seemed, I’ll not indulge it any further. My late twenties was a time of making and building friendships, meaningful, respectful and lasting relationships. It was the craziest period of my life because I was experiencing life from different, sometimes conflicting angles at the same time – being the incarnate professional; exploring almost all the cabarets and nightclubs in Yaounde, Douala and Limbe; holding firm to my faith and being religious somewhat; bought two cars in the same year even before obtaining a driver’s license (please do not ask me what happened to the other car if you remember seeing me with just one car. That memory has been recycled); met and fell in love with someone I knew little about and then eventually we got married. My job permitted me to travel and meet so many great minds, as well as develop my skills in many aspects and eventually started training others in leadership and communication… oh did I mention I relocated and took up a job in another country that involved even more travel?

My thirties started with pregnancy, then the most awesome gift I have ever received… my son was born. That to me is the single most important blessing. I had a new job and then the rest of my early thirties is a little blurry. My mid to late thirties were the most materially blessed years. We (my spouse and I) built a house, a home that had almost all the specs of my dream house given the environment and circumstances. This period also allowed me to gain new insights into Christianity and really start to define myself within the Christendom. I also reinstated my younger cousin who had been carried away by the wiles of life and she eventually had her A/Levels and a professional certificate; and then I had myomectomy and laparoscopy. I also had a lot of growth opportunities and reflections into self. In my mid-thirties, I wondered a lot why I couldn’t bring myself to say the things I really wanted to say (I might have mentioned this in a previous blog article). I stayed a lot in my head space, and it fatigued me because I was always hesitating to express myself. Sometimes I lied to myself that I don’t want to hurt the other person, but then subjected myself to psychological torture because I knew I should have said something but didn’t. In my last one year or so of the decade, I became more expressive and continued to develop that skill. Furthermore, I became more in touch with some expertise I had like being able to negotiate a truce between people without getting emotionally invested or causing more frustration on the part of the concerned. People also saw in me a confidant and very rational individual. But in some areas, I felt I wasn’t trusted by some people who really mattered to me and sometimes had to deal with prolonged months of passive hostility aka angered silence, with no idea of what I could have done wrong. This brought me to a space of deeper understanding, where I learned to focus on what I can control and not worry about what I can’t.

In my forties (Yes, I am in that decade already, have been in for a minute now but can speak to it), I continue to grow in areas I can control – my response to situations, my use of words trying hard to be understood (for I believe a word comes alive when it’s said), asking for forgiveness even when I think I should be at the receiving end. I seek to stay on target – happiness - and peace brings happiness. To me forgiveness has to be complete with the ‘forget’… not in erasing memories but in not revisiting that ‘story’ in a spiteful way. That seems hard, and I don’t successfully implement that sometimes. Another interesting aspect is that forgiveness benefits more the seeker than it does the recipient. Misunderstandings are common and most times everyone thinks they are right – and they may be, based on the angle from which they are analyzing. I isolate my responsibility in enabling a situation, name it (if it’s clear to me) and ask for forgiveness. Whether it is well received, or whether that means the entire blame is placed on me, or again whether my forgiveness request is seen as admission of guilt, is really not my concern. I am more concerned with liberating myself by asking for forgiveness and making sure that I’m heard. It is hard at times but gets easier with time. This pulls every thread of humility from my spine- sometimes it actually leaves me feeling lame and incapacitated but trust me I get over the issue faster than I would have the effects of an unresolved situation.

What I love most about entering this new decade is choice – now I don’t feel constricted in expressing myself, I feel like I have a choice to express myself anyway I want. I maintain a very high level of decorum when talking, but I say what I want to say and I’m not apologetic for my thoughts. This feeling of having a choice to how much restrain I want to muster has helped me most in my professional life where sometimes we are confronted with situations where the truth makes a lot of people uncomfortable but there are huge consequences to concealing the truth – so finding the balance in a way that brings people to understand, even though they are uncomfortable with what you are saying. People who thought I was assertive in my twenties ought to see me now, hahahaha. Finally, I choose my battles carefully, being guided by the potential impact of engaging in a battle, considerations of what I can control and the emotional space I’m in at that time.

I am looking forward to healthier and meaningful relationships, being understood and being forgiven. I am even more focused on having a happier life, with a lot of selfcare and looking great according to my standards (I have recently cut my hair and some people think this is counter great looks, but I said MY standards). I have a lot of love, care and joy elements to give and also giving underprivileged people the opportunity to develop their skills/education. God bless you and thank you for not judging me based on this write-up (although sincerely it really doesn’t matter to me whether you do). My desire is that this inspires you to reflect and see how much you have matured as you are aging and make amends that are God-approved and bring you shalom peace and happiness.

Myomectomy – My Experience

It’s been a little over a year and nine months since I underwent the first surgery to remove fibroids. The procedure is called myomectomy and you can read more about it from the internet. However, I want to share my experience because as I was doing a pre-ops research, I did not find a lot of experiences that I could relate to. I found a lot of information about experiences of women in the US and other developed countries, and very little in developing countries. That worried me because the healthcare systems are so different from ours and it made me wonder if I should even proceed with the surgery.

For the sake of making this a good and easy read, I have spilt My Experience into the following articles



Myomectomy – My Experience, The Decision

Myomectomy – My Experience, Questions for the Surgeon or Ob-Gyn

Myomectomy – My Experience, The Build-Up

Myomectomy – My Experience, The Day of theSurgery


Myomectomy – My Experience, Post-Op

Myomectomy – My Experience, The Decision

I knew I had fibroids in April 2010, when I was about 14 weeks pregnant. During my first ante-natal visit, I was subjected a physical exam (which at that time I thought was very invasive, naively, not knowing there were even more invasive tests that I will have to endure as pregnancy progressed and just for being a woman) and a scan, the Ob-Gyn told me lightly that I shouldn’t worry about the fibroids because they were small and out of my uterus. He was surprised to learn I wasn’t even aware I had fibroids, because he thought I would have had signs prior to being pregnant. All the OB-Gyns I met as my pregnancy progressed in Kenya, Cameroon and US assured me the fibroids will not interfere with my pregnancy or birthing. 

Fast forward two years after I had my baby I went in for another check. I was informed there are still two fibroids but they were positioned in a way that I couldn’t conceive and even if I did I’ll lose the baby. The OB-Gyn and Lab Tech were both surprised when I told them I had a baby with those same two fibroids. Subsequently over the next couple of years I saw a few more Gynecologists who gave me conflicting information about the position of the fibroids and their effect on conception. However they all agreed on the number of fibroids and the need for surgery, which I wasn’t considering at that time.

In May 2018, someone gave me the contact to an Ob-Gyn in Yaounde, Cameroon. I went in for a check and he strongly suggested surgery after a series of tests and consultations. He took time to explain the pros and cons to me and why it was his professional suggestion for surgery. I did a lot of research and had a list of questions (refer to the next article) ready for him. He was more convincing than the others, and after talking with a few other gynecologists, I decided to go for myomectomy and laparoscopy. The moment I made this decision, I felt a kind of peace, shalom peace, and I knew I was making the right decision.

Myomectomy – My Experience, Questions for the Surgeon or Ob-Gyn

The moment the decision is made, continue with research and note all the questions you have for the Physician. I learned that no question was irrelevant, so go all in. Below is a list of the questions I prepared for my second to last Dr’s visit (and you want to give yourself the opportunity to follow-up with more questions, so do not wait with this until the last visit before the surgery). Also, ask open ended questions so that through the responses you can get clarity on other things that you hadn’t thought of before.

Questions about the Surgery

1.     How will the surgery be performed? Here you want to get all the details of the procedures and agree on options, e.g. for anesthesia type.
2.     What could cause me to need blood transfusion?
3.     What are some of the unexpected things that can happen during the surgery? What are the chances of those happening?
4.     What are the dispositions in place in case there are unforeseen during the operation?
5.     How long will the surgery take?
6.     What should I expect immediately after the surgery and the weeks after? How is the healing process going to look like physically and emotionally?
7.     What types of post-op complications could I experience?

Questions about the surgery space and people

1.     How many times have you conducted this operation? And how often?
2.     Share some of the remarkable experiences you have had, both positive and negative
3.     Who else will be in the room?
4.     What are the types of post-op rooms available at the facility? Cost? Care?
5.     What do I need to prepare in advance, or take along with me (food, test results, medical history file, etc.)?
6.     What does the facility offer (in the rooms, cleaning services, catering, etc.)
7.     What is the schedule for the post-ops visits?

Myomectomy – My Experience, The Build-Up

Typically you will be required to do a series of blood tests a few days prior to surgery. I did mine a week before and the results were ready two days later.

Here is the sequence of events for me.

4 days before surgery - July 2, 2018

Final pre-ops visit to Dr with blood test results. Everything was fine but Dr suggested I get blood from the blood bank a day before the operation.

Caveat: African blood banks are mostly in need of blood so do not expect to just go ‘pay’ for blood stored there. I didn’t know at that time, but I lived through that experience of ignorance, so you won’t.

It was during this visit that I got all the information I needed for where the operation will take place and payment modalities.

So typical of me, this is when I decided to inform the rest of people who needed to know. The only person who had knowledge of the plans prior to this date was my hubby, of course. After the Dr’s visit, I informed my two best friends from office and a very close work collaborator – just told them of the surgery but not the date. Then I messaged my older brothers and sisters. The responses from my family were varied: brothers were fine with my decision, one sister asked for details and said she might need a surgery as well (she still hasn’t gone under so I guess she didn’t need it after all). My eldest sister was apprehensive which I found surprising because she’s a nurse and has undergone same - or maybe it’s for those same reasons that she pleaded with me to revisit my decision, see other gynecologists, seek God’s opinion again…etc.. I also informed one of my besties in Uganda who had gone through the same and she had some very useful insights for me

Then I finalize the list of all the things I had to do before like stocking the house with food, getting my medical records together, work tasks that I had to complete, packing list for the hospital, etc.

2 days before surgery - July 3
Visited the hospital where the surgery will take place for the first time to check out rooms and to pay for blood. Do not wait this long, go check out the hospital immediately you know so you will be better prepared than I was. I was so surprised when I was informed the blood bank was empty and I needed to bring 4 people to donate blood (I needed to have 2 pints of blood and each donor usually gives half a pint). I was ready to pay any amount of money but unfortunately bringing my own donors was the only way. Now I was in a dilemma because I hadn’t informed the people I had talked with that the surgery was this soon, so where do I get four blood donors in such a short time… with matching blood group A+.
when I left the hospital and was driving back to the office, I prayed to the Holy Spirit and told Him that if He doesn’t provide 4 donors, then I’ll know He disapproves of the surgery. As I was taking the bend to the office parking lot, I saw my work collaborator mentioned above with her fiancé. I stopped and asked the fiancé’s blood group. “A+”, he responded”. And then it gets better, he is a certified blood donor and will happily indulge me. My work collaborator too offered to donate if she was a match.
when I got into the office, I went to one of my two office besties – she informed me she is A+ and will happily donate. The colleague who shared office with her said same thing, same blood group. My 2^nd office bestie offered to donate but wasn’t sure of his blood group. The Holy Spirit came through like a charm! This was one of many times I have put God to the test and He didn’t fail. You should try that too, with a little faith in His ability to pull through and not let you go through things you can’t bear 1Corinthians 10:13.

Past 7pm I’m making food in the kitchen and my cousin who lived with me shows up with my phone. I take a call from my eldest sister and she quickly passes me to ‘somebody who wanted to pray for me’ The person asked me to leave the kitchen because of the oil (please don’t ask me the effect of oil on prayers, I’m not that religious). I went to my room. He asked in a not lowly spirited manner if I was a Christian and if I pay my tithes, and to whom I pay my tithes. I responded to being a God fearing believer and ignored the question about tithes. Then he started praying. My mind was somewhere else as I tried to focus to no avail. He cursed the fibroid, calling it a ‘trick of the devil’ and assured me of healing, asking me to feel it because I was healed. Twenty some minutes later, after the ‘Amen’, he proceeded to asked me to call my eldest sister early the following day and tell her the miracles I’ll experience in the night and in return my sister will tell me her dreams. I don’t doubt the power of God’s healing miracles but he lost me at his initial questions about tithes (my Bible doesn’t tell me anywhere Jesus made that question relevant to healing),  so I guess if a miracle were to happen, I wasn’t equipped to receive at that time. Or maybe he was just using words, as many ‘Prophets’ of our days do. Whatever the case, this is a lesson if you belong in a community where religion is emphasized over righteousness, where people are complacent with dormancy because they are ‘waiting on the Lord’s miracle’.

The Day Before - July 4

I went to Hospital in the afternoon with 5 other people (the four I had mentioned above and my cousin). Rapid blood tests were conducted and 2 of my potential donors were eliminated. The 3 others donated the 2 pints of blood needed, and to me that is a miracle. Again as secretive as I am, I didn’t tell my friends I’m taking a room that evening at the hospital for the surgery the following day. I saw them off and came to the room I had booked and confirmed while they were at the lab.
The only time I spent a night in hospital in my adult life was when I gave birth, and it wasn’t in my country. I had assumed I will meet a room with made up bed, but I was surprised even the best room in the hospital came with a bed, a mattress, a table, a side cupboard, a television and a bucket in the bathroom. Luckily my packing list included bedsheets and cover.

The anesthetist had informed me that he will meet me in my room at 7pm. He never showed up that night. However a very reassuring nurse came in and asked me to shave around my pubic area (which I had already done because I did my research). She also advised that although she didn’t know exactly at what time the operation will take place, it will probably be in the morning.
Sidenote: caregiver who is hubby comes in around 7pm, showers and asks for food. He finally goes out and gets some bananas and after eating he is back to work on his laptop.
I finally fall asleep, having placed my fate in God’s hands.