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DEPRESSED... Life's the frame work of mysteries. It is subjective and has never been comprehensively defined, because it can't. At a time it's soo beautiful; you never expect when suddenly, like a thunderbolt, it becomes a bitter place , then with that same element of surprise it gets back to being the most exciting experience. I had soo many questions. They all began the same way, "why". I was not the same person as I am today, who understands that life has a constant. A constant that is Change, And that is inevitable. Today, I know that everything happens for a reason and even though it's a mystery to me now, it won't always be. Before today though , before I manifested into this being, I was a broken vessel, dejected, wounded, joyless, sad... I felt so many negative things. I oozed of defeat, my existence felt futile. I was unmotivated, a dimension of low self esteem with a blurry vision of my bleak future . I was spiritless. Every day and night since my arrival here was nonexistent, it was void and filled with blankness. I would occasionally cry and stare into space, wondering what was responsible for such misfortune and why, then I would cry some more. A catastrophic cycle. I was depressed. I remember moping at the balcony one day, during this era of distress; it was a cold morning, the wind was blowing and It was piercing. My hands and feet were benumbed with cold. My ears were as cold as ice, chilled to the marrow. My legs became stiff and cold, still I was comfortable. Maybe because i already felt enough discomfort inside of me. Not a bird chirped. They all laid cuddled together in their nests. To my right, there was a tall mango tree at a distance. It's dead leaves fell and littered the ground beneath it. I hadn't noticed some boys under it's shed, sitting and forming a semi circle ; bantering with each other. I was only drawn to their presence when one of them lamented... "My guy!, I'm tired . This hustle for more money is getting me frustrated and tired of life..." They were loud but their voices had grown softer until it could no longer be heard, receded into silence. I didn't care until now. They all looked young, younger than I was. Three of them had lit cigarettes on their lips and they all shared a bottle of cafe rum. I felt mocked. I was equally disgusted. I thought- "More Money? How can frustration and loss of happiness be based on something soo trivial? How could he disrespect my feelings by thinking he had the right to be as depressed as I was? How could he be soo insensitive and ungrateful?" I cringe most times when I think about that day. I get embarrassed. I was childish and selfish. I wanted the world revolving around just me. All because I was in a predicament. Just like him, I didn't care that many others have it worse, that some people were facing much more life threatening situations. I hated the boy instantly for the same sin I was guilty of. That was who I was becoming. "You have to see an oncologist urgently...". I woke up to these words on my mind every morning. It was like waking up from a nightmare. I wasn't in control of my mind anymore. Something else was, some things actually. I was like a zombie; only that my virus was fear. It was beginning to kill me and I knew I shouldn't let it , but I didn't know how to start or what to even do. It felt like those nightmares you struggle to wake up from, where you struggle to move but you can't. Terrifying. I lost my will and I couldn't fight, But I had to take a step soon and I knew it. "Will you accompany me to see the Oncologist on Monday?" I was asking George and I knew he wouldn't decline. Knowing George was one of the things I had failed to be grateful for. Indeed, God knows all things, so he made preparations. He made George an essential part of this chapter of my life. Without his role, it definitely would have been worse. Good people would easily be characterized with qualities like trust, honesty, compassion, understanding, forgiveness, respect, courage and a whole lot of other virtues; He wasn't all of it but he didn't need to be. He was himself, showing me kindness and even if he didn't completely understand, he did in his little way. Truth is, no one could ever comprehend how I felt except they wore the same pair of shoes. At this Point, George made the most impact in my life. He influenced the belief that everything was going to be alright and even though I saw the fear in his eyes, he never expressed it. With him there were days were I could at least pretend to be happy. He was funny and we would laugh at things he said or did. There was a River bank, we would go in the evenings some days and stare , throw stones and watch the ripples like it was our invention, listen to music and talk if we needed to. Other days we would fight over trivial issues that could simply be overlooked or even laughed at, but everything was all soo intense and negative emotions heightened. It was difficult for him to control, being so young and getting entangled in such a situation. The dilemma of whether or not to detangle himself from this web of tragedy, the burden of not being able to talk to anyone about it and showing up strong for me. He didn't have to, but he did. All of that and I didn't make it any easier. I only understand now, that his eyes did not just show his fears but also his anger and frustration. He was angry at why it had to be me, to be us, angry at himself for not having a solution, frustrated, for not having a means to make it all go away... The Hospital....It looked like a garbage clinic with low income individuals and families. It sat on the first floor of a large building. They were several doors on that floor. The environment looked safe and dangerous, life-saving as well as traumatizing. It evoked the full range of human emotions. Time moved differently, slow and fast at the same time, like the minutes are still but the hours evaporate. A depressing hallway led to the windowless office of the consultant. It was a rather small and dark office. In addition to the two desks and chairs, there were other chairs a book case and piled folders of patients and a hospital bed at the opposite end of the room. The walls were painted pale blue with no attempt to brighten up the room. I didn't look surprised , I didn't feel so. "You'll have to have a mastectomy, you'll have to remove the breast; the two of them even..." The Doctor said it soo casually, it got me irritated. Had it come to that? So quickly? Did he know what he was talking about? He kept on talking but I had spaced out, wondering if I was at the right place, if coming here was a mistake. I said, " If it comes to cutting off the breasts, I'll just do it" we were out of the office and I was talking to George, he didn't reply and I could understand why. I too didn't know what I had said, neither did i think about it. It just sounded like an easy way out and I wanted an escape soo badly but deep down, I was flooded with fear. We returned home, holding hands and consoling ourselves with no words. It was strange but it felt good. In my fear, there was relief. I don't know how. We stopped by the mall, shopped for things we wanted. Most of them were irrelevant but we had been through a lot to bother about discipline. So, we got all we needed to make us feel better, even though slightly. From then on, we never spoke about it, we tried to live our normal lives; my problem became our problem and we buried it deep down in our hearts where it waited to rise again, and we knew it would. We just chose to let it be for a while. We chose to forget. From then on, my mind made conscious efforts to be happy. It wasn't pure happiness but it was good. We faced other challenges too. I remember waking up before 6 am to the caretaker of the house banging on our door. He always knew we were in, so he wouldn't stop. We owed rent for that year. George had spent the rent on us and I wasn't aware until I noticed the meeting he had with the caretaker the previous week. It was strange, so I asked to know what it was about. "We needed to relax and be happy, and I spent it on us. I don't regret it. I'm only sorry I didn't tell you ; I knew you would not have let me" George said. He was right, no matter how bad we needed to unwind, I would have never been in support of using the rent. I was pretty upset, but it was done and it was our problem now, the main issue was how to fix it. Terrible times. The caretaker kept bugging, with the same routine. Banging on the Iron door before 6am every four or five days. We would get so furious. He could have made it weekly at least. The embarrassment and humiliation. Those kind of things weren't supposed to happen to us. It wasn't a niche in our kind of problems Or so I thought. George didn't handle it well, he didn't know how to. If you think about a person who despised confrontations and mortifying situations, you would think George. He would lash out, spend hours outside the house; like I was the cause of the problem. But realistically, he was just scared that he looked incompetent and not capable. I understood it, I understood him. After months, we sorted it out. Together. Even in that period before we got rid of the caretaker, I noticed a new lump had begun to grow at the same site as my previous biopsy. I couldn't tell George. I cried quietly whenever I got in the bathroom every morning, but never when I was out of it. I was determined to lie to myself, to believe it was nothing. Not thinking about cancer was great, it gave room for other things . For instance, spending time with friends ; Ugochukwu, Olu and Champion . George's friends became mine. I was terrible at Meeting people. I had a default wiring of moving solo and I didn't see any need to change that at the time. So the crew became my crew. Ugo had a heart of gold, he was selfless and kind. Olu was disciplined, more practical. He was the father figure. Champion was playful and funny. He loved to enjoy life. He loved women too. They were individually imperfect as any human could be. They had their flaws, but together they were perfect for me. I learned a lot about togetherness from them. They made me laugh a lot. There were moments when the energy would be down, moments where we all faced life issues. On those days it wasn't as fun. We either spoke about it or just shared each other's company and expelled our worries. In all , it was great being amongst them. I was grateful for the opportunity to know them. In between all off this I was struggling still. My soul was frightened and being in my body felt like living in a haunted house. Cringing at each creak of my diagnosis on the old warped stairs of my mind, but it didn't sway my determination to make it to the bedroom every day. My bedroom where hope was. Halfway up I would see flickering shadows of fear at the corner of my vision. I'll freeze in moments, a shiver would curl through the hairs on the back of my neck then cascade down my backbone. It was how I had to feel to not hurl myself back down the stairs to the front door; to that well of depression. I noticed I would randomly bump into stories online of people who had died of cancers, I would decide to watch a movie and suddenly , there was a lady crying about a mastectomy in it. Home videos and foreign movies... it made me cringe. Worst of all, George fell in love with a series "The Good Doctor". I hated it, not because it wasn't an awesome series but because it was all about Hospitals, Doctors, terminal illnesses and cancer! I would never watch it with him again after the first few episodes kept on reminding me of my diagnosis. I would scream at him to reduce the volume so i wouldn't hear. It tormented me but he never understood, he didn't know the lump was growing again. He didn't understand how I felt. It seemed like my predicament haunted me. Like someone somewhere programmed all of this for the purpose of torturing me. Now when I think about it, I have a different understanding. I feel like the universe was only communicating with me. Telling me that it was time to take a step. To do something before it became too late. To get out of my imaginary multiverse. To wake up!

RUNNING... As I sat by the widow of the Bus, all I could think of was alighting at my destination. To be free from the sound of cars honking in the traffic, drivers cursing at each other for trying to maneuver through tiny spaces, the smell of dust in the air and the threatening faces of hawkers intentionally waving their items in my face; as if to compel me to buy, the smell of sweaty strangers, filling the bus with poor ventilation and the loud chattering of their conversations. It was a type of discomfort that was a norm in these parts. Like accepting the things you cannot change. As uncomfortable as it made me feel, I preferred this experience to remaining at the place where I was coming from; home. I didn't hate my home , I hated where it was. Facing an unfavorable financial crisis, Daddy took the decision to relocate back to the village. I do not hate him for that either, I could never despise dad for any reason. It was the best decision to take as at the time. That or depression; the type that could take a man's life. The village; it somehow threatened my happiness and well-being, in ways I couldn't explain. The people; always acting like they had the intent to make you feel small, insecure or bad about yourself ; even if these actions described them more. There was always this physical weight I felt every time we drove past the signage " WELCOME TO OBINYI STATE " It was toxic. I always felt nervous, my palms would begin to sweat, and my mouth would get dry. It made me sick! But my family was there now and it was home and there was nothing I could do about it. I had left the village for Algidi where my sister was. At least that was what my parents knew; and we were almost there. I was running even although I refused to accept it. I was running to where I could breathe and be free. My phone rang . It was a call from my doctor. The type of call no one would ever want to receive, but it wasn't a choice. I picked. " Good evening Dr Tama,...I'm fine thank you, I've been expecting your call ". More like I've been dreading it. " Yes, I have gone through the results and I strongly advise you see the Oncologist at the teaching Hospital. It is important that you do it as soon as possible " He said . I froze in that moment, my eyes widened, my breathing accelerated, I could hear my heart beat and it hurt. Sweat began to trickle down my neck, I lost concentration and goosebumps sprung up all over my bare arms. I was afraid. It was one of the few times I ever felt real fear. I didn't care anymore about getting to my destination , It didn't give me the pleasure that it usually would. My mind kept racing through a lot of things, like the celerity of a closed-circuit television. At the same time, they were all blank thoughts. It was the month of January, about two weeks in; and few months ago, the previous year, I underwent a lumpectomy. I remember waiting in the changing room that led to the theatre; I already had a hospital gown on. It was a semi-restricted area of the surgical department. They had said my blood pressure was high . I was soo anxious. The idea was to give me time to calm my mind. It wasn't my first breast surgery but going under the knife isn't exactly a fun experience, no matter how many times one might have gone through with it. Besides, this time it was different. The lump that was to be removed was different. I didn't know how yet, but I felt it. Each time I examined it; while I was having my bath, getting dressed or even just laying on the bed, I had a feeling of worry and discomfort. It wasn't like the previous one. This one bothered me. After about an hour or more, a nurse walked in and wheeled me into the operating room . It was intimidating at first. The whole medical team involved in the surgery were present. Operating room nurses, charged with preparing surgical equipment. Sterilizing surgical blades, setting drip stands and asking questions about dozes of things I certainly did not understand. The surgeon, anesthesiologist and some student doctors were all present. It was overwhelming. After I laid down, the anesthesiologist spread my arms on a platform that had been attached to both sides of the operating table, then he raised and tilted the table to the best position . It reminded me of Jesus on the cross, then I began to wonder what sin I was paying for. The sight of needles made my heart skip a beat. The anesthesiologist was going to insert an intravenous Catheter in my forearm for the anesthetics and other medicines; it didn't hurt much. There was a huge operating room lamp placed above me. I also noticed that I was connected to various monitors that were meant to keep track of my vital signs. There was also a Ventilator by the head of the operating table; imagining it being used on me felt scary. That I would loose my breath, that I'll need it's help to stay alive; it threatened me. My thoughts were distracted by a nurse, she wheeled a stainless steel table to my right side, it was carrying the already sterile instruments to be used during the surgery. The room was soo cold, that was the last thing I noticed before I fell unconscious. In my unconscious state, I was in a white world. That is how I love to describe it. Everything was white. There was a staircase in an open space. There were people in there that I didn't identify with, it was almost like there weren't there but they were and it seemed like I was moving. Roaming. It felt weird. I could also hear the voices of the doctors and nurses but I could hardly make sense of what they were saying. It was like I was present and absent at the same time, I can't fully explain. My first surgery wasn't as eventful. I was fully awake although I didn't feel a thing. The space was much smaller. It wasn't an operation room and I shared it with another man who was to be operated on too, but I didn't know why he was being operated on. A blue thick cloth made a demarcation between us, or maybe it was Green. There were just three health care professionals present on my side of the room and they all wore head covers and warm-up jackets. It was a free medical outreach for simple surgeries, so it was understandable. I was awake through out the process and I didn't think it took up to an hour. Hours later I was being wheeled out of the theater, I was still unconscious, physically, but I was aware. I had left the white world and I didn't know when. I heard the nurse say - " She hasn't stopped singing since the surgery begun..." It was then I realized I was singing, It was the only thing I seemed not to be aware of. I didn't understand how I missed it. I was in the room, in a private ward. I heard Dad's voice, he's always there. I smiled softly and called out to him- "Daddy"... " Yes my baby, I'm right here " he replied " just relax okay, you need the rest" His voice gave me comfort. My eyes were slightly open, almost like I was squinting. The anesthesia was gradually wearing off. I was now slightly conscious but still extremely weak. I was happy. It felt good to be back. After the surgery , I was informed that the tissue removed will be sent to a pathology lab. They called it a biopsy sample. They were going to study it and come up with a diagnosis. I had to wait weeks for the result. I had spent the holiday at home, in Obinyi, with my family. I love seeing the shinny Christmas lights that decorates my street and the sound of fresh fallen leaves on the ground. Christmas reminds me of family, the laughter and love we share, and the gifts we gave to each other. My house on Christmas became the center of my joy. I remember waking up on Christmas day with a huge smile on my face, heart full of joy and gratitude. As soon as I got out of bed I rushed down the steps into the kitchen to start with the preparation for all the meals that were to be made on this special day. We had different variety of food to prepare; turkey, fried and jollof rice, salad, ofe nsala, pounded yam... I already knew how I was spending the day, as always. In the kitchen. It was memorable. Days later I was informed that the result from the pathology was ready and I had to go collect. I wish it had waited, I wish I had the chance to drown in the feeling of the post Christmas celebration. I wished a lot of things. Leaving the lab, my hands trembled as I held the report, neatly folded in a white envelope, addressed to me. My palms became sweaty. I felt a heavy sharp pain in my guts. I was scared again, I felt the same discomfort from when I examined the lump, before the surgery. I was walking out of the hospital premises, deliberating on whether or not I should open the envelope just yet. I opened it, I couldn't bear the anxiety. Waiting makes me anxious. Few days later, I already forgot about everything and I was back to living my normal life. Laughing, happy, chatting, frowning, upset; and everything else in-between. Everything did feel normal, until days after Christmas. I had spent the holiday at home, in Obinyi, with my family. I love seeing the shinny Christmas lights that decorates my street and the sound of fresh fallen leaves on the ground. Christmas reminds me of family, the laughter and love we share, and the gifts we gave to each other. My house on Christmas became the center of my joy. I remember waking up on Christmas day with a huge smile on my face, heart full of joy and gratitude. As soon as I got out of bed I rushed down the steps into the kitchen to start with the preparation for all the meals that were to be made on this special day. We had different variety of food to prepare; turkey, fried and jollof rice, salad, ofe nsala, pounded yam... I already knew how I was spending the day, as always. In the kitchen. It was memorable. Days later I was informed that the result from the pathology was ready and I had to go collect. I wish it had waited, I wish I had the chance to drown in the feeling of the post Christmas celebration. I wished a lot of things. Leaving the lab, my hands trembled as I held the report, neatly folded in a white envelope, addressed to me. My palms became sweaty. I felt a heavy sharp pain in my guts. I was scared again, I felt the same discomfort from when I examined the lump, before the surgery. I was walking out of the hospital premises, deliberating on whether or not I should open the envelope just yet. I opened it, I couldn't bear the anxiety. There was an observation report alongside some personal details and then there was the diagnosis. It read, "DIAGNOSIS: INVASIVE DUCTAL CARCINOMA " I didn't know what it meant just yet, but I didn't feel relieved either. Reading it brought this stiff and uneasy feeling. I didn't know what it was but my instincts kept leaping as if to tell me that it wasn't good. My younger sister was home when l arrived. As a medical student and I was sure she could make better sense of the result than anyone else at home. I was eager. I wanted to know. " Carcinoma means Cancer " she blurted out. I didn't think she considered how I would feel, or my mental state. She just gave me the information I needed. I stood still. Gripped with fear . My unsettling feelings and discomfort were confirmed. I had been diagnosed with Breast Cancer !. I was too scared to cry, too scared to think. I just stared into space, with blank thoughts racing. It was like in the white world, except, it wasn't white this time. It was dark. Pitch black. I wanted to remove my insides and place them beside be, just for a minute or two, so i could breathe, feel light; but I couldn't. This was my body and I was stuck with it. Somewhere in the midst of all these feelings, I hoped I was wrong. I hoped my Sister was wrong, So I forwarded the result to my Doctor and I hoped he would say it wasn't what we thought. Hoping was the only mechanism I used to cope in that moment. I immediately wanted to leave home, the environment constantly reminded me of my fears. It hurt terribly. So, I left. All the feelings I dreaded, they all came rushing back after the call with Dr. Tama. I left home, but they left with me. It was past 9pm. I had reached the central park of my destination, but I felt no relief . All I knew was pain and sadness. I was a shadow of myself and I can't really recall how I got home. I can't recall anything else from that night.

Lifestyle After Mastectomy. The scars now demonstrate your strength; they tell the story of how you fought defeat and triumphed. Love your scars, be proud of them, and flaunt them... A breast cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence, "If you see something, say something ". I'm excited about this piece, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to reach out to many strong women out there who are silently struggling to accept the changes in their lives as a result of their breast cancer treatment. I completely understand your difficulties, and I don't say that to be empathetic; I say it because I truly do. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, my life fell apart. It was traumatic, and I struggled to put myself back together. I hung in there and eventually finished my treatments; I'll be sharing my experience with you soon in the Memoir Category (watch out for it...), but for now, I'll share three recommendations that helped me put my life back together after my mastectomy. ADAPTING If you're a survivor reading this, I'm sure you recall the uproar before your mastectomy. All of the preparation for surgery as well as the days spent in the hospital. Doctors advising you on what to do, eat, and wear... But it's funny how no one ever prepares you for life after a mastectomy. We're on our own to figure it out! How to look at your body in the mirror, how to regain your confidence and self-esteem, what to wear (mastectomy bras, camisoles, outfits that can help us regain our confidence), what foods to consume and where to obtain them... We're on our own. Knowing this, I've decided to share some of the techniques that helped me love myself, my body, and my scars. These suggestions are as basic as: • Building "The Mindset" • Knowing Your Support System • Just Live... BUILDING "THE MINDSET" "THE MINDSET" - what is it? You might wonder. The attitude we're referring to is a way of thinking that is only positive, powerful, loving, and resilient, the one which encourages you to keep going and tells you that you are lovely and that you have the confidence you need. When you really think about it, putting aside all of your worries and other unpleasant emotions, a mastectomy doesn't change who you are at all. In fact, it just makes you better. We triumphed, without diminishing the importance of God's grace in our healing process... We fought the battle and won. Most people could not, and although it is not really within our power to determine whether we live or die, we handled our own and left the rest to the one who ultimately decides. Despite the fact that it is simpler said than done, it still needs to be done. So this is what we'll do. While you stand in front of the mirror and look at your scars, trace your fingers over the small lines to feel each curve as it emerges. Absorb it all in, become upset if necessary, then apologize to yourself for believing you were any less than you are and resolve to always act, look, and feel your best. Give it a go! KNOWING YOUR SUPPORT SYSTEM I wasn't always able to organize my thoughts at the time when I was still attempting to cope with the loss of a boob. Most of the time, when I was tired, all I did was lie in bed and stare. I eventually identified my support system, which was my immediate family. Then this is what I did. I shut out all of the other voices and positioned myself in the center of my personal support system. The fact that they kept me going and gave me their love and attention when I felt like I was sliding proved it was a wise choice. Finding someone or people you can trust and simply letting them in is necessary since no man is an island. Spend time with them outside and converse with them. You'll eventually start to recognize yourself again and realize how amazing you've grown to be. Please get in touch with me if you're reading this and don't have or know someone you can trust enough to let in. I am constantly available. I distinctly recall looking online for people who had been in a similar condition to mine in order to gain some support from them. I was unable to discover any, which led me to think I was by myself. I would never want anyone to re live such an experience. JUST LIVE... My favorite part comes next. Be alive! The world won't change for you because you are who you are right now, so live your life as the change you want to see. Explore new things, have adventures, pick up new skills, meet new people, and keep an open mind. Discover your passion in the activity that brings you joy. I'm delighted I made the switch into tech since it allowed me to become a qualified product designer today, whereas two years ago I believed I had lost my value as a "women person." I sincerely hope you begin implementing these suggestions and recognize your accomplishments. Again, don't hesitate to contact me if you need assistance or have questions and never forget that I love you, but you should love you more. We need to take care of ourselves . P.S. If you go to the Menu, you can find my Tech blog pieces on Medium. If you loved this, drop a comment...

"Look Deep Into Nature And You Will Understand Everything Better." Albert Einstein If I told you about a woman who tragically lost her child in an accident, you could feel intense sorrow and try to comprehend the suffering she must be going through. However, you cannot; that much is a certainty. It will always be difficult to fully comprehend, let alone imagine. There should be a shared meeting place in order to connect to something at that level. This simply implies that in order to understand what the mother of this child was actually experiencing, you must have also felt pain at that same degree...Pain due to a loss. Experiences are crucial for comprehending. They might be referred to as life's practical exercises. Experience emphasizes that it happened, and you lived through it over a period of time, and that now, you are strengthened. Growth manifests itself in the act of overcoming a painful event by becoming stronger. That is the stage at which we evolve. I often find myself reflecting on the depth of our daily encounters and relationships, except that most people simply consider them briefly. Unless of course it is a traumatizing event, even then, most individuals still don't care. Growth is unaffected by a comfortable experience. Actually, we stalemate in comfort. No matter how uncomfortable it is for you to think about, our evolution through every of our chaos makes us a bit wiser. I like to refer to it as "a slice of paradise". Most people who live life with deep understanding often prefer simplicity I've had events that have changed my outlook on life, which I may share with you through this medium at some point, instantaneous transformation from who or what you were before to who or what you are right now. The realization that we really have no control over anything makes me want to connect with "the little things" more than I used to. We must understand that the purpose is to learn the lessons, not to endure painful circumstances and persevere through to the end. Since not everyone has experienced these life-altering events, it is not necessarily a bad thing if they don't comprehend. It's acceptable that they simply don't speak your language. Everybody has their own time to learn. So if you're on your journey and it seems like you're more enlightened than most as regards life issues, you definitely have had a slice of paradise. If you enjoyed reading this or have your own perspective and would love to share them, leave a comment for me ! I'll be looking forward to hearing from you.

It takes effort to understand how love really works. It's great today and not so much tomorrow. Regardless it's beautiful to know where your heart lies ! A Union Of Peaches And Creams Also Of Roses And Thorns Feeling Adored, Then Provoked Other Times Provoked, Then Adored Some Days, Enemies At War Everyday, Allies Against The World