Learning How to Create Web Based Training Courses AND How to Improve Your Texas Holdem Skills


I’m currently at home with a back injury that has seen me popping pain meds, visiting the hospital, specialists, GP, doing hydrotherapy, MRI’s, X-Rays and I’m off work and can’t drive. (Insert image of violin) This is really frustrating as I love my job, but I can’t do it justice as yet. Hopefully soon…..

Some of my blogs may represent the lack of clarity in my mind, but I know what I’m trying to say and I do edit them many times.

What I have been doing is learning more about SEO and while playing poker badly, I’ve been playing a few games and learning how to do video recordings using the computer.

So I decided to test it out by recording a couple of videos on topics I’m interested in. One was on blogging and how to improve your Google ranking by adding metadata and keywords to the images you use as well as how to sell them.

The other was how to get a handle on your opponents when playing Texas Holdem using an app called Poker Tracker 4. You can get a 30 day free trial on this app by using this link. Just as a disclaimer, it is an affiliate link which means that if you like the free trial and decide like I did, that the software is worth buying, I get a little something for my effort in creating this training video.

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Blogfade and a Back Injury


Have you missed me? I’ve been off the grid, after trying to be superman and  lift a heavy bag of tent poles out of a trailer for a 4 room tent at Relay For Life and following that up a couple of weeks later mowing wet lawns (Auckland right?), piling up the clippings into a barrow and then lifting them to head height to empty into a garden bag, the straw that broke the Cappel’s back.

MRI Result? 3 bulging discs on both sides of my lower spine, all touching nerves and causing me lots of pain in my back and legs. I had 3 (starting very early in the morning) day trips to hospital when the pain was at 9/10, each time they kindly shoved a finger where the sun don’t shine to check that it still had muscle control, because my left leg is very weak and I had no sensation surrounding my left knee and referred pain down both legs. Or maybe they did it to scare me into not coming back:)

I thought I was over that one with my prostate cancer which has been in remission for just over a year now!

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It was a real eye opener sitting in the triage rooms and seeing how awesome the staff are, dealing with a constant stream of frightened, sick and sore patients. My hats off to the staff (and the volunteers who fed me) at North Shore Hospital.

So I’ve been popping morphine and other drugs, (off work for almost 2 months on ACC) to the point where my brain has been mush. It only hurts when I stand, walk, lie down with a pillow between my legs (for more than 4 hours) or sit (only on a wheat bag on a straight kitchen chair with another bag on my back as I look longingly at the couch). I can’t drive and my decision making is such that I would not represent myself or my team well at work. I’m good at putting things in the wrong cupboards or forgetting what I went into a room for.

back injuryI’m not complaining, the drugs are keeping the pain between 4-7/10 and whilst I hate not having a clear head, having no responsibility means I can focus on getting well and not worrying about dropping clangers at work where I really do need to be on my game. My wife kindly took 2 weeks of work at the beginning to look after me. I can now look after myself and walk to the letterbox and back. Not twice in a row though I discovered.

The good news is I am mending. Tomorrow I will be getting 3 Transforaminal Steroid Injections guided by x-ray to within half a millimeter of the 3 nerves (sounds impressive doesn’t it). I had one a few weeks ago and it got the pain levels from peaking at 9/10 to peaking at 7/10, so we’re hoping that this lot will bring it down to a level where I can reduce the meds so I can stay in bed all night and get my brain back to near normal and start planning my return to work.

Work by the way has been fantastic. I have really felt bad about not being there with my team at the end of the financial year, but conscious that if I don’t recover carefully it could be much worse. As it is I’ve been told to be extremely careful after the injections because my back pain may be reduced, but I will have to be really careful when the pain is down to not lift or do sudden movements which could set me back, so I’m expecting some physio to follow.

Buying a House Final Cover ArtSo I’ve been off most social media, blogs and anything else requiring concentration, but I have been thinking. About real estate and location based services and all the mistakes we make when we buy houses. As you know, I wrote a book a few years ago about using apps, maps and location based services. I’m now looking at a follow up course rather than updating the book. I’ve been thinking about this while I’ve been off and am keen to hear from anyone who would like to share mistakes or things they would do differently when they buy their next house.

I’m not looking for sympathy, but I’d love to hear some stories about homes you have bought and things you should have checked out first, maybe the neighbourhood, crime, amenities, the commute, property values, flooding or other things that you could have researched first. Drop me a comment. Apologies for any typos, I did proofread this about 10 times.

 

Two More Sleeps Before Relay For Life


Two more sleeps and I’ll be getting up on Saturday morning to, pack and head off to the Millenium Centre in Mairangi Bay, with my old runners and my new Thorlo padded socks, hoping the weather man is right and it won’t rain.

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A sign we walk past during the night in Relay For Life

I don’t do this for myself (well maybe a little). I do it for the 1 in 3 people in New Zealand, who, like I did, will get cancer. I do it for HOPE.

First of all I want to thank you all for your kind donations, for your words of encouragement, for sharing your stories of cancer, both personal and members of your family or friends, some who lost the fight to cancer and others who are still fighting the battle.

This has been the hardest year for me to fundraise for the Cancer Society, I’ve felt like most people are over donating and wonder if it is because I have been doing this every year for 6 out of 7 years. I’ve stuck with it because cancer is so insidious, so horrible, and to raise awareness that we don’t all have to die from it.

Early Birds 2018

The 18 for 2018 is made up of the names of people living and sadly past who we are walking or running for on 10-11 March. The day after my birthday.

I do it because of the 20 people who were motivated to get themselves tested because of my story. That’s what Team Early Birds is about.

At the height of my cancer journey I didn’t have the strength to do this event. I visited the team two years ago and went home to sleep at about 3 in the afternoon and felt so frustrated that I wasn’t able to participate! Last year, I still didn’t have the energy to stay right through the night. I left at 10PM and started again at 4AM.

Blackroom Relay for Life 2016 Print-47This year I’m back in boots and all, no matter what it takes. I’ve taken 2 days of annual leave to let my body recover. I’m looking forward to the survivor’s lap of honour where those of us who are surviving cancer do the first lap, wearing a purple sash.

It is such an honor to do this and very humbling when kids you’ve never met before come up to you and tell you they are proud of you, that you inspire them. Some wear shirts with words like I MISS YOU MUM on their backs.

I’ll tweet a few updates from the event if you want to stay in touch and might do a Facebook Live post, but I will be conserving the battery on my mobile so it lasts through the night.

So again, a huge thanks to those of you who have supported me on this Relay For Life journey. I am very grateful and feel very fortunate that there are people who have my back. That’s what kept me going through my darkest days.

Now if you have any influence over the weather, I really don’t want to do this event in the rain again. Can we hold off until after the weekend?

What’s It Like to Have Prostate Cancer Radiation Treatment, a Bursting Bladder AND What Does that Have To Do With the Price of a Cup of Coffee?


Mercy ScannerI chose radiation treatment for my prostate cancer because it allowed me to continue to work and because it has a 95% success rate.

On the first visit to the clinic with my wife, we were waiting in the lounge to have the process explained to us and for me to have a CT scan so that they knew the shape of my body. This was so that every time over the 8 weeks of my treatment they would be able to focus the radiation on the specific area to be nuked and minimise the risk of damaging my bodily organs.

My wife and I were sitting in the waiting room when a man rushed pass at a frantic pace, loosening his belt as he ran for the bathroom in a cold sweat. He was in so much of a hurry that he was sitting on the toilet before he had even got the door shut.

One of the things you can lose in this process is your modesty. I wouldn’t ever want to be that guy, when all the heads turn in his direction, embarrassed for him, turning away again as he comes out, hoping he didn’t see them.

The process is that roughly 45 minutes before you have your radiation  treatment you need to have drunk enough water to have a full bladder when you have your therapy. The reason is that this helps push your organs away from the prostate treatment area, thereby protecting them from harmful rays.

IMG_2086I was lucky because I was often able to get the first appointment of the day, meaning that on those days I didn’t have to wait in the lounge with my full to bursting bladder for too long.

So you arrive at the hospital and check in with your calendar schedule and they ask you how you’re doing. I always had a stock answer whenever anyone asked how I was, which was “GREAT!”, with a big smile. Here they would say, “Actually how are you really doing, because when you are having radiation treatment, we actually need to to know?” That was a mindshift for me and there were times when I felt a bit sorry for myself and when other people asked how I was, I told them as well. I wish I hadn’t, but then they did ask right?

So the next thing you do is go downstairs to a changing room where you collect your yellow daffodil bag which contains your lava lava which you will wear for the next wee while, holding on to the water in your bladder. Your clothes go into the bag and you put it back on the shelf with the others, realising just how many people are currently getting radiation treatment like yourself. It’s all sorts of cancers of course, not just prostate.

I met some great people while waiting for my treatment, both patients and their partners and we shared battle stories. Often the partner was feeling more stressed than the patient. I met people who were from out of town who had to stay at Domain Lodge, a facility provided free by the Auckland Cancer Society for cancer patients because the distance was too far to travel each day. This had all sorts of consequences. Children still had to be looked after, bills still had to be paid and some of them were running their own business and typically the treatment was every day during the working week. This is one of the reasons why I am a staunch supporter of Relay For Life which is next weekend, the 10th overnight through to the 11th of March at the Millenium Sorts Institute on Auckland’s North Shore.

lava lavaSo it comes your turn and you adjust your lava lava so it won’t fall off and wander down the corridor, past the control room where they are going to watch you on camera, put your valuables on a chair. Then you lie gingerly down on the scanner bed, hoping you can hold your water. IMG_2256

The friendly staff chat away with you and each other as you get settled, with your head under the scanner and your legs on a pair of moulded supports. They put a pillow under your knees and you focus on your bladder.

Then they adjust your lava lava and with a pen of some sort draw a mark at the point where the radiation will centre, which becomes less embarrassing after the 20th time; and they leave the room. Then the noise starts up and they talk to you through headphones as the treatment begins. It only takes a few minutes and as it finishes, you thank them and rush for the bathroom to empty your bursting bladder as quickly as you can as they tell you how well you have done once again.

IMG_3512Sometimes you have to wait longer than your booking time and it can get pretty uncomfortable. One morning they had to do maintenance on one of the scanners and I had to wait so long that I had to go to the bathroom, empty my bladder and then drink another bottle of water and wait the best part of an hour for my already stretched bladder to fill up again.

The worst day was when someone before me arrived late and I had to wait over half an hour longer than usual before I got my turn. They said if I wanted to I could empty my bladder and start again, but I had to go to a meeting at work and I didn’t want to be at the hospital any longer than I had to. So I gripped on to the edges of my chair, tightened and loosened, tightened and loosened (not a typo) my core muscles focussing on not losing control of my bladder.

IMG_3437I came very close to having to rush to the bathroom several times, but I didn’t want to blow my perfect record. My pride rode to my rescue.

The pain and pressure was getting worse and I persisted. Nurses came to me a few times and asked me if I wanted to start again, pointing to a nearby water fountain (not the imagery you want at that time but well meaning). I replied that I would soldier on.

Eventually after about an hour I got my turn and barely adjusting my lava lava, just acknowledging to myself that by the time I got to the room, it might be unraveling from my body, I waddled to the machine and gingerly got onboard, hoping for everything I was worth, that I could hold it in.

We got settled and barely aware of the daily x (actually a little line) marks the spot being drawn by the nurse just above my privates. I just focused all my energy on my now very full bladder which was telling me that I wasn’t responding to the messages it was sending me. I was determined to hold it in, but it was getting more difficult by the minute and I was just wishing they could speed it up. Time seemed to go into slow motion, but the discomfort got worse.

Finally the nurses left the room and I lay there pulling up on my core muscles for all I was worth, cringing with the pain and being told through my headphones that I needed to keep still. “Easy for you to say I thought”.

No, I needed to pee and I needed to not pee and I needed to hold those muscles in. What if wet myself? What if I peed on the machine bed? I still had a little dignity and I remembered that guy, rushing for the bathroom on my first induction visit.

I almost got off the machine 3 or 4 times, but I hung in there. Then the radiation treatment started and amidst the din of he rotors, I thought to myself, “I just can’t hold on anymore, I have to get off!” Then realisation set in, as I was being reminded to keep still, that if I got off while the radiation was beaming at me, I could potentially damage other parts of my body.

I clung on for dear life, cringing, counting the seconds, trying to keep still and then after the machine stopped, I was halfway off the bed as the nurses were coming back and there I was.

Now I was the guy rushing for the bathroom for all I was worth, not bothering to waste time locking the door, letting the lava lava unravel to the floor as I dived for the toilet. Oh the relief through the pain!

IMG_2150I picked up my body with my bruised dignity, got changed, went to the bathroom again and finally walked up the stairs to the nurses station to get a smiley face on my monthly chart, to say I had my treatment for the day. IMG_2105

This had been one of the days that I was hoping would never happen to me, but they did tell me that we all go through it.

Eventually after 8 weeks I had completed my treatment and eagerly awaited my visit to the oncologist who I anticipated would have good news for me.

Unfortunately he didn’t. He said that while 95% of people respond well to the treatment and find themselves in remission, I was in the 5% who didn’t.

So after 2 months of drinking water, driving each morning to treatment and then off to work, I was no better off than I had been before I started. That was a bit of a body blow and whilst I understand statistics, I had thought about the odds and as a keen poker player had thought to myself that if I had gone into a casino for a tournament and been told that I had a 95% chance of being in the money at the final table, I would have been really excited. The 5% seemed really unlikely.

IMG_3516The Coffee

After each radiation treatment I would go into the hospital cafe and treat myself to a flat white and a huge cheese scone. I couldn’t have breakfast before the treatment, so this was my little reward to myself and I came to look forward to it. When I went back to the hospital for specialist appointments I usually went back to the cafe for nostalgia’s sake, but it never had the same satisfaction as it did on the days I had radiation treatment. IMG_3418

So here’s where the coffee comes in. A cup of good coffee costs around $5. Coincidentally, that is the level where a donation to Relay For Life becomes tax deductible. That means your $5 donation only really costs you around $3.50. That’s peanuts right? But what if all my readers gave that?

I was going to say, if you know anyone who has cancer, how about making a small donation in their honor, but you know me don’t you? You now know me better than you did before, because I have shared some very personal experiences with you.

Next weekend when I spend the night walking around the track at Relay For Life with my friends and family, I am doing so to help raise funds for the Cancer Society to help fellow cancer patients with accommodation, psychological help, research and much more. It is all rather meaningless if I don’t get donations and I haven’t even got a third of my modest target so far.

So here is my plea. Can you find it in your heart to make a $5 donation for a good cause? 1 in 3 Kiwis will get cancer. I hope that will never be you, but it will probably be someone you care about. Will you please help? I would be so grateful.

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This guy must have been really hot. The purple sash denotes being a cancer patient and survivor

It’s been a real struggle this year to get donations. So I really thank you for paying it forward and also am very grateful to my friends and family who are in Team Early Birds, relaying for 18 hours to support me and also people who they have lost or are still fighting the good fight.

 

What Cancer Patients Really Think When You Tell Them “You’re Looking Well” AND 4 Reasons I Need Your Help for Relay For Life


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Contains the robes we wore when undergoing radiation treatment

Four of the people who have supported me in my cancer journey were  worse off than me. There was Shelley, who had a fall 2 weeks ago and we had her funeral on Saturday. They had said she had maybe a couple of months, but it spread faster than expected to her spine and brain. Then there is another Shelley who has to have chemo every 3 weeks for the rest of her life. Because she chose a low cost insurance policy (who thinks you’re going to get cancer?) she had to sell her house to get quick treatment to save her life. There is Lee, my colleague and friend who is still fighting. Finally there is my great friend of over 30 years, Daff, who we buried in December, right before Christmas.

IMG_3482I wrote this song about our shared experiences. Things that cancer patients say to each other and to the medical people who support them. Relay For Life helps people like us. Can you?

Isn’t it Ironic

©Luigi Cappel 2017

Verse One

When I’m down on the ground
Where do I go from here
I’m feeling flat, well fancy that
I’m feeling sorry for myself

Pre Chorus

I ought to feel ashamed
I get another day
Others aren’t so lucky

Chorus

But my friend says
In the morning, I put on my face
Wipe away my tears
You don’t see me then

Verse Two

I need to fight with all my might
Put on a happy face
Take off that frown, bringing others down
Impact my fate

Pre Chorus

Isn’t it ironic
The people you use as a tonic
Are worse off than you

Chorus

But my friend says
In the morning, I put on my face
Wipe away my tears
You don’t see me then
I’ve trained myself, sometimes it works
I paint a picture, that hides the hurt

People used to say to us “You’re looking well!” They were trying to pep us up and when I was depressed and fatigued (I didn’t think of it as that, just frustrated) I’d start my day looking in the mirror and say I’m alive and well and I feel great and try to get some endorphins going with a big fake smile. As you know, I shave my head. The other four all lost their hair. They were all struggling emotionally with that but they kept brave faces.

Read the last chorus and this will tell you what is really going on.

Out of 13 countries, New Zealand has the lowest ranking for access to cancer medicines. Relay For Life is working to help that and the Cancer Society who helped us all doesn’t get Government funding. Do you reckon you could donate $1 for each of my friends and myself, to go to the Cancer Society? That would be $5. That could make a real difference, truly. You can do it here.

Thanks for coming a little way into our journey. I will be walking all through the night for them and dozens more in two weeks time, with your support for which my gratitude.

 

Are You Ready for Cyclone Gita?


iPhone 088I remember standing on the back of a truck in my muddy Leo’s on a beautiful sunny day on the side of the road with a couple of cops and a couple of fellow trained Civil Defense Rescue people.

As I looked out over the Riwaka farmland, all I could see was river silt that was glittering with specs of gold in the sunshine. I remember thinking if there was a way of using a magnet to suck up all the gold dust that had flooded down the river and over the banks, inundating the house we had just emptied of muddy furniture, I could be wealthy. It was stunning and it was devastating.

Two days earlier it was a different story. I had been standing next to the house I was staying in, getting drenched in torrential rain on a hill overlooking a farm which was under at least 2 meters of water. The road next to my house had become a river. I wanted to go down to the farm to help the people whose homes were underwater try to recover their precious belongings. Unfortunately the torrent on the road was such that there was no way I could safely cross it. This was evidenced by an elderly person who drowned that morning trying to cross the road and lost their footing. I felt helpless, pacing up and down the hill trying to find a safe way across.

Other than losing all their furniture, all their food, all their photos and memories of good times gone by, their clothes, their cars and other material things (and their crops), the families on the farm were OK. They were hardy souls, a bit like the West Coasters. However, not everyone was the same.

On that sunny day and for a week afterwards, we worked tirelessly emptying muddy carpets (after digging 20 or 30cm of silt from them), furniture, bedding, appliances, food and other items. We tried to tell the residents to count their blessings, that they were still OK, which was easy to do with my own possessions being high and dry.

Many of them were devastated, some in shock and some just grateful that we were there to help them. None of them had expected the storm and the river to sweep right through their homes.

Cyclone Gita might come to nothing major, or it might become a serious storm. It’s great to see some people getting ready, keeping kids home from school, staying home from work if they don’t need to be there. It is also crazy to read about people still going to campgrounds in at risk areas. They obviously haven’t got first hand experience and what would be really frustrating would be if those people then need rescuing at the cost of looking after people who have taken reasonable step to make themselves and their properties safe.

Having been one of the rescuers in the past, I’d like to spare a thought to all the road crews, the linesmen, the emergency services and others who will be out selflessly in the wet (maybe even cold in some places), when they could be protecting their own families and properties. Where would we be without the ‘trained’ volunteers as well as the locals who just pitch in and do what is needed?

I hope everyone gets through this safely. That they have stocked up on all the essentials and are ready for the storm. Here’s what you need to know to prepare for Gita.

Finally I remember going to the local pub and having a beer with the locals. It was cool to see how the community rallied together and became stronger after the event. And I remember the gold flecks for miles, glittering in the sun as if there had never been a storm and the ground had always been flat and covered in silt.