Today marks the close of a sacred chapter—my final day in clinical practice. It arrives not as a surprise, but still, with the quiet weight of finality. As I hang up my white coat for the last time, I do so with a full heart, a reflective mind, and a soul stirred by the memories, challenges, and triumphs of a career that has spanned continents, decades, and countless lives.
The Vocation
Medicine, for me, has never been just a profession—it has been a calling. Rooted in service, tempered by science, and sustained by grace, it has demanded everything and, in return, offered the profound privilege of walking with people through their most vulnerable moments. From first diagnoses to final goodbyes, from newborn cries to triumphant recoveries—I have borne witness to the full arc of the human condition. These are not simply memories; they are sacred imprints that I carry forward.
The Patients
To the thousands of patients who entrusted me with their care—thank you. You taught me more than any textbook ever could. Your courage in the face of illness, your faith in uncertain times, your laughter even in suffering—these are the lessons I will never forget. I have seen healing, but also heartbreak. I have learned that the most powerful medicine is not always written on a pad but offered through presence, compassion, and unwavering attention.
The Colleagues
To the colleagues I have journeyed with—especially within the physician group I was privileged to lead—you are the embodiment of excellence. Together, we built something greater than ourselves: a culture of integrity, innovation, and relentless pursuit of better care. In you, I found not just professional collaborators, but kindred spirits—people committed to mission, to purpose, and to each other.
The Legacy
What is a legacy if not the impact we leave behind, the people we’ve lifted, the systems we’ve improved, the lives we’ve touched? I hope mine will be measured not by titles or years, but by the moments that mattered: a patient feeling truly seen, a colleague feeling supported, a younger physician inspired to lead with both courage and humility. I leave confident that the seeds planted over these decades will bear fruit for years to come.
The Transition
Though this chapter closes, my journey does not. Retirement is not an end, but a transformation. I step away from clinical care, but not from purpose. I carry with me the same values—service, curiosity, and compassion—that shaped my career. New seasons await, and I embrace them with the same heart that once greeted each new patient.
A Final Benediction
To heal is holy work. To serve is sacred. And to finish well is a blessing. I leave clinical medicine with no regrets, only gratitude—for the privilege of a life spent in meaningful labor, and for the countless lives that shaped my own.
May those who continue in this noble calling be blessed with strength, clarity, and joy. And may the work we have done endure, ripple outward, and echo forward—long after this final day has passed.
Long before its icy shores were ever seen, Antarctica existed in the human imagination—a place of mystery, balance, and symmetry. As early as the 6th century BCE, the philosopher Pythagoras proposed that the Earth was round. Building on this idea, ancient Greek thinkers reasoned that if there was land in the north, there must be land in the south—a great unknown mass to balance the globe. This theoretical land became known by many names through the centuries, including Terra Australis Incognita—the Unknown Southern Land.
Even today, Antarctica remains a place apart—untouched by borders, politics, or ownership. Governed not by conquest but by cooperation, the Antarctic Treaty stands as a rare testament to international unity, preserving this continent for science and peace.
From a geological perspective, Antarctica’s isolation shaped its destiny. Around 60 million years ago, it began drifting apart from Australia. As the Drake Passage opened between Antarctica and South America, the formation of the Antarctic Circumpolar Current created an invisible moat—circling the continent and insulating it from the warmth of neighboring seas. This current became a key player in locking Antarctica in its frozen stillness, sealing it off in time and temperature.
Standing on its frozen expanse in 2013, I was humbled—not just by its stark beauty and ferocious winds—but by the realization that Antarctica is both a frontier and a mirror: a final wilderness where the Earth whispers its deepest secrets and challenges us to protect what is rare, wild, and essential.
Palmer Station, Antarctica
Established in 1968, Palmer Station is named in honor of Nathan B. Palmer, one of the first people to lay eyes on Antarctica during his expedition in 1820. Located on Anvers Island along the Antarctic Peninsula, the station can accommodate up to 44 researchers and staff, typically reaching full capacity during the austral summer months.
Palmer Station serves as a hub for vital scientific research, focusing on marine ecosystem monitoring, atmospheric studies, and the impact of heightened ultraviolet radiation on both marine and terrestrial life. Much of this work has been spurred by the expanding ozone hole, a growing environmental concern over the past few decades.
One of the more visible consequences of climate change in the region has been the decline of the Adélie penguin population. Changes in sea-ice patterns and snowfall—driven by a warming climate—have contributed to a dramatic population drop: from over 8,000 breeding pairs in 1974 to fewer than 3,300 pairs. By 2014, researchers predicted that Adélie penguins could disappear entirely from the island, a stark symbol of the broader ecological shifts underway in the Antarctic.
Icebergs of Antarctic Proportion
Though most icebergs remain confined to coastal waters by prevailing winds and currents, the largest ever recorded have calved from Antarctica’s vast Ross Ice Shelf. These colossal slabs of ice, known as tabular icebergs, break off and drift into the Southern Ocean, sometimes becoming legendary in size and spectacle.
One of the most famous, Iceberg B-15, was captured by satellite imagery in the year 2000. It measured approximately 295 by 37 kilometers (183 by 23 miles), covering a staggering surface area of 11,000 square kilometers—larger than the entire island of Jamaica.
Even more astounding was the largest iceberg ever observed, sighted on November 12, 1956, by the crew of the USS Glacier. Spotted 150 miles west of Scott Island in the South Pacific, this tabular giant measured an estimated 335 by 97 kilometers
Because the density of pure ice is approximately 920 kg/m³, and that of seawater about 1025 kg/m³, typically only one-ninth of the volume of an iceberg is visible above the water. The shape of the submerged portion is often difficult to discern from what is seen above the surface. This phenomenon has given rise to the expression “the tip of the iceberg,”referring to a problem or situation where only a small part is visible while a much larger issue remains hidden beneath the surface.
Final Reflections: Elephant Island, Deception Island & Paradise Harbor
Elephant Island, just northwest of the Trinity Peninsula, would likely have remained obscure were it not for the remarkable survival story of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated Endurance expedition. After being trapped in the Antarctic pack ice for over a year and spending an astonishing 497 days without touching solid ground, Shackleton and his 27 men finally broke free and rowed northward in search of refuge. Frozen, exhausted, and clinging to hope under a dim polar sunset, they miraculously landed on the desolate shores of Elephant Island. It may not resemble paradise to most, but for those men—it was salvation.
Yet Shackleton’s resolve was far from spent. Realizing no one would come looking for them, he and five others embarked on an improbable 800-mile voyage across the treacherous Southern Ocean in a 22-foot open boat. Their goal: reach South Georgia Island and summon help. Against staggering odds, they not only survived but crossed the island’s rugged, icy terrain to organize a rescue. After 105 days stranded, the remaining 22 men were finally retrieved from Elephant Island. Not a single life was lost. Shackleton’s feat remains one of the greatest survival and leadership stories in exploration history.
Further west lies Deception Island, a partially submerged volcanic caldera offering a rare natural harbor in Antarctica’s otherwise hostile coastline. Entry is only possible through Neptune’s Window, a narrow breach in the volcanic wall. Ships must carefully navigate around Raven Rock, a deceptively shallow hazard that lurks near the center of the channel. Inside, the island reveals its strange serenity—steaming beaches and colorful cliffs, remnants of a geologic past still simmering beneath the ice.
Finally, we sailed into Paradise Harbor—also known as Paradise Bay—a name that feels poetic rather than literal. There are no swaying palms here, no sun-kissed sands, yet its beauty is undeniable. Towering glaciers and jagged mountains frame the tranquil inlet in a striking composition of ice and stone. Along its edge lies the charred remains of Almirante Brown Station, an Argentine research base destroyed by fire in 1984. Now abandoned, it stands as a quiet reminder of the challenges faced even in humanity’s most remote outposts.
London Revisited: Tea, Towers, and Timeless Memories
By Dr. Adekunle Omotayo
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A Return to the Heart of the Empire
There’s a rhythm to London — steady, familiar, and yet always new.
Returning after so many years, I felt not like a visitor but like a former resident reacquainting himself with a city that had quietly evolved.
Our base was the elegant St. Ermin’s Hotel, nestled just off Westminster. Its quiet courtyard felt worlds away from the city’s roar, and yet the Houses of Parliament were a short stroll away.
📸 The ivy-draped courtyard of St. Ermin’s Hotel — calm before the bustle of the day.
From here, we could reach everywhere: Buckingham Palace, St. James’s Park, and Oxford Street by foot or Underground. And oh, the London Underground — that symphony of efficiency humming beneath the city.
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The London Underground: A Living Artery of Engineering
I remain in awe of the Tube, the world’s first underground railway, opened in 1863.
Each time I descended those escalators, I felt I was entering a breathing organism — 250 miles of track, 270 stations, millions of stories daily.
The signage, the punctuality, the faint smell of metal and movement — it all reminded me why Londoners rely on it so completely. It is not just transport; it’s the city’s circulatory system.
📸 The classic red, white, and blue Underground sign glowing in evening drizzle.
📸 Commuters framed by the curved tunnels of Westminster Station — steel and steam heritage.
Here are some of the most fascinating engineering and design secrets of the London Underground that reveal just how ingenious (and quietly heroic) this system really is:
🧱 1. The Original Tunnels Were Dug by Hand — and by Candlelight
The first line, the Metropolitan Railway (1863), was carved out using pickaxes, shovels, and horse-drawn carts. Workers (nicknamed “navvies”) toiled by candlelight, removing clay and rubble manually. Some of those early tunnels are still in use — trains today still run through Victorian brickwork more than 160 years old.
⚙️ 2. The Deepest Station Is Practically a Skyscraper Underground
Hampstead Station on the Northern Line sits about 58 meters (190 feet) below street level — roughly the height of a 20-story building sunk into the ground. The original lifts are still there, but modern escalators now cover only part of the descent.
💨 3. The Tube Has Its Own Wind System
When trains move through the narrow tunnels, they act like pistons — pushing air ahead of them and sucking it behind. This creates the “Tube breeze” you feel before a train arrives. Engineers use this effect to ventilate the tunnels and manage heat — a natural airflow system long before modern fans were installed.
🚇 4. Some Tunnels Are Now Secret — and Still Active
There are “ghost stations” — abandoned platforms and tunnels used for testing or even government purposes.
Examples:
Aldwych Station (closed in 1994) is now used for film shoots and emergency drills.
Down Street Station in Mayfair served as Winston Churchill’s wartime bunker during the Blitz.
🔋 5. Modern Lines Use Regenerative Braking
Newer trains on lines like the Victoria and Jubilee use regenerative braking systems — capturing up to 20% of the energy generated when braking and feeding it back into the grid. The Tube literally powers itself in part when it slows down.
🚉 6. The System “Learns” How to Move People
The modern signaling system (especially on the Victoria, Jubilee, and Northern lines) uses automatic train control (ATC) — meaning computers now manage train spacing and speeds more efficiently than human drivers alone could. Some sections can safely run 36 trains per hour — one every 100 seconds.
🕰️ 7. It’s a Museum of Design — Above and Below
From Leslie Green’s red-glazed tile stations (early 1900s) to Charles Holden’s modernist designs (1930s) and the sleek glass canopies of the Jubilee line (1990s), the Tube tells a design story spanning more than a century. Even the iconic Johnston typeface from 1916 is still used today — a masterclass in brand continuity.
🌍 8. There’s an Entire Underground Postal Railway
Running beneath central London is the Mail Rail, a miniature electric railway built in 1927 to move post between sorting offices. It was closed in 2003 — but you can now ride it as a museum exhibit near Mount Pleasant. It’s like the Tube in miniature!
Walking the Old Stomping Grounds
From Oxford Street to Tottenham Court Road to China town, I walked the same streets I once knew so well.
Much had changed — new storefronts, modern facades — but the cadence was the same: the impatient taxis, the scent of roasted chestnuts, and that indefinable energy that only London exudes.
📸 The city looking back at itself.
👑 Royal Visit: Buckingham Palace and Afternoon Tea
After nearly a decade of living here years ago, it was almost humorous that I had never set foot inside Buckingham Palace. This visit felt overdue.
The Palace is less ostentatious than one imagines — a working palace more than a museum, alive with history but also bureaucracy.
We capped our visit with that most quintessentially British ritual: afternoon tea.
Delicate finger sandwiches, endless pots of Earl Grey, and — my highlight — fruited scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam in the quiet with my darling wife.
📸 Afternoon tea at Fortnum & Mason — porcelain elegance and tiers of indulgence.
We also experienced the legendary Fortnum & Mason tea service — so refined it borders on ceremony. After the second pot of tea, even conversation slows, lulled by the gentle clink of silverware.
🎭 Nights: Phantom and the ABBA Voyage
London remains the cultural capital of live performance.
At His Majesty’s Theatre, we saw The Phantom of the Opera. The moment the chandelier began to rise and that first haunting note filled the hall, I was transported. Decades on, it remains a masterwork of stagecraft and emotion.
📸 His Majesty’s Theatre façade illuminated before curtain call.
Later, near Stratford, we attended the ABBA Voyage Show — housed in a purpose-built digital arena. There, avatars of the legendary band performed with breathtaking realism. It was nostalgia reborn through technology — joyous, immersive, and beautifully executed.
📸 The ABBA Voyage Arena at night — light, sound, and memory intertwined.
🕍 Spaces: St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey
I climbed the 520 steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral again — something I last did many years ago. It felt steeper this time (and it was), but the view from the top remains one of London’s finest rewards.
📸 View from the St. Paul’s dome — the Thames winding like silver through the city.
At Westminster Abbey, the silence speaks volumes. Beneath those stone floors rest monarchs and poets — the heartbeat of Britain’s story.
We paused before the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the one grave upon which no foot may tread.
📸 Westminster Abbey nave bathed in soft light.
The resting place of Mary, Queen of Scots, was particularly striking — a triple-layered tomb symbolizing her claims to three crowns (Scotland, England, France). Irony lives in stone there: she was executed by her cousin, yet history ultimately gave her the grandeur denied in life.
🏞️ River and Market: A City of Movement
The Thames cruise to Greenwich was serene — a moving tapestry of bridges, glass towers, and timeless icons. The Cutty Sark stood proudly, a monument to Britain’s maritime might.
We explored Millennium Bridge, New Change, and Shad Thames, each view offering a different portrait of London — modern yet rooted.
📸 The Millennium Bridge with St. Paul’s rising beyond — a dialogue between eras.
📸 The Cutty Sark under crisp grey skies.
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A Culinary Tapestry: From Street Eats to Silver Service
London’s food scene mirrors its diversity.
From the Nigerian flavors of Enish on Oxford Street to the elegant artistry of TH@51, every meal told a story.
Noble Palace was an indulgence — exquisite Chinese fine dining, precise and memorable.
And for contrast: The Laughing Halibut, where a golden-battered cod and chunky chips reminded me that simple food, done right, remains unbeatable.
📸 Borough Market stall serving sizzling paella with lobster.
📸 Nigerian flavors of Enish on Oxford Street: Pounded yam and assorted meats.
At Borough Market and Leadenhall Market, I grazed happily — chocolate-covered strawberries, steak-and-kidney pies, and Spanish paella cooked in huge pans that perfumed the air.
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Covent Garden and the Pulse of the City
We ended one evening in Covent Garden, drawn by street musicians whose melodies filled the square.
Crowds gathered, shopping bags in hand, as twilight settled over the arcades.
That’s London: commerce and culture, side by side, each refusing to sleep.
📸 Street violinist performing under the glass roof of Covent Garden Market.
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Reflections: London’s Enduring Soul
Every visit to London feels like rereading a favorite book — familiar yet full of rediscovery.
The city continues to evolve, yet its essence remains: tradition without stagnation, progress without forgetting.
“London is never finished. It simply changes costume.” — Dr. Omotayo
As I stand at this pivotal moment in my life, transitioning from decades of dedication to my career into the vast possibilities of retirement, I feel a deep pull—a call to go back to my roots. Like the lyrics of a familiar song that speaks of self-discovery and reconnection, this is more than a nostalgic return; it is an intentional journey back to the essence of who I am, where I came from, and the values that shaped me.
Before I set foot on the vast tapestry of the world, weaving my way across the seven continents, I must first make a sacred stop—going home. This is not just a visit; it is a homecoming, a return to the place where my story began.
For years, I have built a life filled with accomplishments, financial wisdom, and the fulfillment of professional success. But beyond all of that, my greatest treasures—the ones that truly define my legacy—are my two incredible daughters, whom I love beyond measure, and my wife, my life partner, who has walked beside me through every triumph and challenge.
As I step into this next chapter—one of exploration, reflection, and pure experience—I realize that before I embrace the vastness of the world, I must first reconnect with my own beginnings.
Home: A Journey Through Time
Going home is more than a journey across distance; it is a journey through time. It is stepping onto the soil where my roots run deep, where the laughter of family still echoes, and where the traditions of my ancestors live on. It is where I will find renewal before expansion, gathering the strength of my heritage before I venture into the unknown corners of the earth.
I want to walk the familiar streets, hear the stories of those who remained, taste the flavors of my childhood, and stand in the presence of the history that shaped me. This is not just a visit—it is a ritual of reconnection, ensuring that no matter where I travel next, I carry home with me in my spirit.
But home is not just a place—it is my family. My daughters are my living legacy, the continuation of everything I have worked for and built. In them, I see the future—brilliant, full of possibility, shaped by both where we come from and where we are going.
And by my side, as she has always been, is my wife—my partner in this incredible journey. She has been my constant, my foundation, my greatest companion in life’s adventure.
Now, as I step into this new phase, I find myself drawn back—not just geographically, but spiritually and emotionally—to the values, traditions, and stories that made me who I am.
Reconnecting with Culture & Legacy
Growing up in Nigeria, my foundation was built on a rich culture of resilience, family, and purpose. My journey took me far from home, into the world of medicine, leadership, and financial strategy, where I dedicated myself to building something meaningful—not just for myself, but for my family and the communities I’ve served.
Yet, no matter how much success one attains, there comes a time when the heart longs for something deeper—a return to the essence of one’s identity.
Part of this journey is deeply personal. Going home means honoring my parents, the two people who poured everything they had into me.
I will stand at my father’s grave site, not in mourning, but in gratitude. He was a man of strength, wisdom, and unwavering love—a guiding presence who set the standard for the kind of man I strive to be. Though he is gone, his legacy remains etched into the fabric of my life.
And I will sit with my mother, the woman who gave me life, nurtured me, and instilled in me the values that have shaped my journey. She is my living history, my direct connection to all that came before. In her eyes, I will see the sacrifices she made, the love she poured into me, and the legacy she continues to build through me.
This journey back is about gathering strength, clarity, and purpose before I step forward into the vastness of the world.
The Seven Continents: A Life Fully Lived
Once I have touched the essence of home, honored my roots, and reaffirmed my foundation, I will set my sights on the vastness of the world.
From the icy peaks of Antarctica to the bustling streets of Asia, from the cultural depths of Europe to the raw beauty of Africa, from the open landscapes of Australia to the wonders of South America and the familiar yet ever-changing spirit of North America—this journey is about more than places.
It is about perspective.
Each continent will tell me a different story. Each land will offer a lesson, a piece of wisdom, a moment that expands the boundaries of what I know.
But before I listen to the world, I must first listen to the heartbeat of home—the love of my family, the sacrifices of my parents, and the legacy I carry forward through my children.
A Journey of Wholeness
This adventure—both the return home and the global exploration—is about more than travel. It is about wholeness.
It is about ensuring that as I collect experiences, I do not forget where I started. That as I expand, I remain grounded. That as I move forward, I do so not as a wanderer, but as someone deeply rooted, carrying the past into the future with wisdom and purpose.
I do this for myself, to see the world with open eyes. I do this for my daughters, so they can witness a life lived fully, boldly, with intention. I do this with my wife, my partner in all things, because every journey is more meaningful when shared. I do this to honor my father and mother, whose sacrifices made every step of my journey possible.
Going home is not an end. It is the beginning.
And from that foundation, I will step forward—onto the tapestry of the world, onto the seven continents of this planet, embracing all that life still has to offer.
Just as the song reminds us, sometimes the best way to find ourselves again is to go back—not to stay, but to gather strength, clarity, and a renewed sense of direction for the road ahead.
This is my season of reflection, renewal, and reconnection.
And in going back to my roots, I find not just where I have been, but where I am meant to go next.
Simply O 