Curtis Isaac

@MrCharlesky Details

Can you stay awake from 1 AM - 4 AM every weekdays and work remotely? I have a remote job for you that pays $100/hr depending on input.

@ArsenalNews_Hub Luganda is really taking Uganda backwards. For Christ sake couldn’t you speak English 😩

I wish I can understand this language but all I can tell is this is a full TV live program broadcasting an Arsenal Parade. Not sure of the country but still in Africa. Africa deserves a pre - season tour. We need to give them this. I know we can’t visit all countries but lets choose at least one.

The best way to do great work is to love what you do ✌️

God wouldn’t place a dream in your heart if you weren’t capable of making it real.

Be the change to the next generation

Concluding 2025 in style

Let's join hands and serve the underserved communities

#beyondPeriodsLaunch #ReachApac

Birthday blessings Tr @IsaacOruk

@mcyaksug Thankyou brother

@Bakole01 Thanks broda

Happy birthday champ

Jeremiah 29:11. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” ... Happy birthday to me 🎂

@mcyaksug Happy birthday bro

A year older, A year bolder

Boy from Apac

Last weekend we had the privilege to give back to the community the little we have, @KampalaBigBoyz took pads to st Fransisca girls secondary school in Apac. #Supportgirlchildeducation

To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved

Do things from love, Not for love

Congratulations big brother, the hard work, consistency, and residence has finally paid off. 👏

@coco_must_shin Tuktuk

I STEPPED ON A 'LANDMINE'. In Uganda, when someone wakes up with swollen legs or mysterious pain, explanations abound. In Buganda, they'd say, "Yalinye Etalo," meaning they stepped on something supernatural. Among the Alur, it's "Enyonu Tho," an ominous declaration that someone has "stepped on an illness." But in urban Ugandan English, the phrase is more evocative -“He stepped on a landmine.” Well, last week, I didn’t just step on one. I walked right into a whole field of them. And by some miracle, I lived to tell the tale. For three weeks, I had nagging lower back pain, the kind you chalk up to a bad chair or an overenthusiastic day at the gym. But then, on Wednesday, my right leg started swelling. At first, I brushed it off -fatigue, maybe? Nerve compression? So I did what any rational person would do: lay on my back and propped my legs up against the wall like a makeshift yoga guru. Except the swelling didn’t go away. Worse, I started feeling pain in my groin. Now, that’s the kind of pain you can’t unfeel. At 10:45 PM, my wife and I made the call -straight to Robert Wood Johnson Hospital Emergency Room in New Brunswick, NJ. The moment the ER staff saw my leg, they didn’t waste time on small talk. "Suspected blood clot." Boom. Just like that, I had stepped on a landmine. Without wasting time, I was admitted and they ran an X-ray, ultrasound, and CTA scans of my chest, abdomen, and pelvis. You know how, in Kampala, traffic jams snake back from Nakawa to Jinja Road like an unholy mess? That was my blood flow -clogged with clots from my right leg all the way to my pelvis. Some were lounging in my iliac veins, waiting for the perfect moment to break free and wreak havoc. One wrong move and I could have had a pulmonary embolism -a clot shooting up to my lungs. The kind of thing that turns a regular day into an obituary. And you know what people would have said? "Eh! But he was fine just yesterday!" "I think he was bewitched." "Did he owe someone money in Kawempe Mbogo zone?" Sigh. There was no time to play games though. The vascular team at @RWJBarnabas decided: Thrombectomy. A delicate, urgent procedure where they go in and physically remove the clots -like carefully defusing live landmines. On Thursday evening, I signed the consent form. It felt like signing a death warrant, 🤪. By Friday morning, I posted a cryptic tweet -just in case it was my last. It read: "Delicate! But it’s got to be done. God is in control. #LetsDoThis." No one gave it much thought. Then, into the operating room I went. Two hours later, I woke up to the news: success. The clots -8 to 10 of them -had been removed. I even saw them. Thick, sinister, silent killers. Just chilling there, waiting for an opportunity to take me out. Had they dislodged and reached my lungs? Game over. Brain? Lights out. But by some divine orchestration, we caught them in time. If there’s anything this near-death encounter has taught me, it’s that landmines don’t announce themselves. One day, you’re fine. The next, you’re in the ER fighting for your life. The CDC estimates that 100,000 people die from blood clots every year in the U.S. The risk factors? Prolonged immobility, dehydration, smoking, obesity, surgery, genetics -you name it. Some of them are in our control. Others aren’t. But here’s what is in our control: ▪︎ Move more. If you sit for long hours, get up and stretch. ▪︎ Stay hydrated -your blood is like traffic, and dehydration is like closing lanes. ▪︎ Watch for signs: swelling, unexplained pain, shortness of breath. ▪︎ Get checked if something feels off. I got lucky. Many don’t. So, my friends, take this as a Public Health PSA with a side of wit. Check your body. Listen to the whispers before they turn into sirens. Because in life, the worst landmines are the ones you never see coming. I was discharged on Saturday evening. A special thank you to @RWJBarnabas Hospital New Brunswick, NJ Doctors and staff for saving my life. God Bless You!