2021, a rollercoaster year: business transfer of my company, retirement, grandfather, esophageal cancer, Malta, Calabria

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January-March : I'm anxiously awaiting the sale of my company under reasonable terms during these challenging COVID-19 times for the events sector. Negotiations are underway with a viable potential buyer.

The transfer will take place on April 1st . The deal went exceptionally smoothly, efficiently, and on acceptable terms. A bonus is that my right-hand man, John Verstuyft, who has served me faithfully for 18 years, will now become managing director and partner. The name Perfect+ Event Productions and almost everything else will remain and continue as before. Perfect! Hooray!

Read a short here press article about the business takeover.

On May 4th , my birthday, I'll officially retire. I've made a firm commitment to avoid any form of stress from now on.

My first grandchild will be born on May 27th . Daughter Tanya and her husband Björn chose the beautiful name Sofia. She's a gorgeous baby with blue eyes who immediately stole everyone's hearts. Grandpa (and grandma) practically burst with pride and love.

Wim is participating in Talk of the Town (exhibition, soundwalk, storytelling) . Starts May 22.

Using a large photo placed somewhere in our Bruges neighborhood (in my case: Sebrechtspark), people can listen to the (life) story of some Bruges residents via a QR code and their smartphone.

My photo was taken at the Leeuwenbrug (Lion Bridge) because my father and grandparents' house was on the corner of it (now a hotel) and I also live nearby.

You can hear my story here. (= in Dutch!)

In April I was selected with 11 other candidates for the election of "The Bear of Bruges", the best supporter of Club Brugge, after submitting a self-made

video demonstrating this.

See the DenBeir2 video. below ...

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The first challenge is to shout the loudest to cheer on your team. Right up my alley. Just watch the first few seconds of this video report...

Finally, there was a second challenge where three teams of three had to inflate balls as quickly as possible, then run with a ball and dribble a Club Bear (mascot) (my part), after which the third team in the penalty area had to try to hit the crossbar. Unfortunately, we were eliminated there... Wim, not Beir.

But then... not because of that test, but coincidentally, shortly afterward in June , my voice went completely wrong: hoarse, breaking at various pitches; I had trouble swallowing, coughing, and producing phlegm.

A visit to the AZ hospital reveals that one vocal cord has failed, while the other is performing less well and has some damage. A PET scan is scheduled. This ultimately proves that the malfunctions are caused by cancer at the very top of the esophagus. This also damages the glands and nerves of the vocal cords. The good news: the cancer hasn't spread. Several endoscopy sessions follow, which I usually try to follow on the screen without anesthesia. After a while, I know my insides better than my outsides. There are also dozens of blood tests.

A PIC catheter is inserted into my arm for eight weeks of chemotherapy. This runs from my arm directly into my heart. This is combined with daily radiotherapy. It's quite an exciting operation in itself, and I'm amazed by my journey through the operating room. I decide that before I have to live "with a disability" for a few months, now that the coronavirus pandemic allows it, we urgently need to get away for a while. Outside, out, that holiday feeling—not a road trip, of course, but rest.

It will be a week in Malta (June 26-July 3, 2020) . See the blog post of the same name.

After the trip, I'll have a weekly chemo day at the AZ Sint-Jan oncology clinic and a radiation treatment session every weekday during both summer months. Before the radiation, I'll be given a mask that will be molded over my face and screwed into place before each scan and radiation treatment.

It's becoming a routine, usually at a different time of the day each time, which I find most annoying, that and the many medications that I can't swallow but have to grind with a grinder every morning and then eat with a yoghurt.

Anyway, the well-known, dreaded side effects don't seem to bother me. I'll actually feel more energetic than usual the entire time. So I'm not complaining.

Afterward, we decided to take another trip at the end of August or beginning of September. We had the baptism of our little Princess Sofia and finally had another moment with family and many friends thanks to the recently relaxed coronavirus situation. I'm feeling okay enough, and the after-effects will last a few months before a new PET scan can reveal the results of the treatment.

Calabria, now that's an exceptional region we haven't visited yet. 10 days? It's doable! We're using the formula: fly into Lamezia Terme and then spend three days at three different locations in the region, with short trips from there and occasional relaxation and enjoyment. Simply enjoy, that's what it is. See the blog post "Calabria" (August 31-September 7, 2021).

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Between the end of May and the end of December, I had 89 hospital visits (consultations, procedures, treatments), including 3 PET scans, 2 CT scans, 3 months with a PICC catheter, at least 15 blood tests, and 4 endoscopy scans. In addition, I had 6 COVID-19 tests.

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Back in Bruges, it's time to rest and wait for the PET scan on October 11th. It delivers excellent news. The tumors appear almost completely gone. It's decided to have another scan a month later. Fingers crossed.

Meanwhile, I'm participating in Motus Mori. As part of DecemberDance @Brugge, Motus Mori is holding a "movement exhibition" about movement in Bruges at the Poortersloge from December 1st to December 12th, 2021 .

I conducted a movement interview with a dancer, which resulted in a personal movement portrait of myself. Instead of a photo or painting, the memory of me is depicted in my typical ways of standing, walking, and moving, in which my personality and character are uniquely expressed. This performance is performed randomly several times during this exhibition. I find it fascinating. Eight dancers moving practically naked, slowly, for four hours (!), in the skin of their characters, with only silence and ambient music... what a bizarre, yet beautiful experience. I find Eleni , my little Greek dancer, and watch in fascination as I recognize things from our conversation. I also find a drawing and two sketches related to my movement profile (see above). It mainly revolves around the first time I held my grandchild. A very special and original project.

The second scan in December was completely conclusive: the tumor was gone . Cured, hooray. But there's a catch. The radiation treatments appeared to have damaged my lungs, so I have radiation pneumonia . This also explains the symptoms I've unfortunately been experiencing lately: fatigue, shortness of breath, and decreased muscle strength. The verdict: a high dose of cortisone , starting with 64 mg/day, and a whole bunch of other medications. I'm resting on my laurels for the rest of the year and hardly seeing anyone, partly due to the increased risk with COVID, namely lowered immunity from the cortisone, post-radiochemo, and lung problems. This situation would continue until mid-February 2022. However, I'll swell up like a pumpkin later on, and after a while, I'll have no chin or neck left.

Because my voice isn't quite up to par either, I make a new appointment with the ear, nose, and throat clinic. I can produce a deep, hoarse growl when I speak calmly, which is acceptable, but unfortunately sometimes it goes to what I call a castrate level. Speech therapy tests are taken, and it's decided to start speech therapy , which I promptly do. But I later cancel because the stress from the cortisone is counterproductive, so we postpone it until after the lungs have healed.

New Year's Eve is celebrated in a small, intimate family circle, although little Sofia and delicious food bring plenty of joy. Next year I hope, at least, it can be less flamboyant!