It’s been almost 5 months since YOLO: Chapter 2 and exactly 3 months this blog post was scheduled for release. Since then, basically, a lot has happened in the world. Moesha’s had a massive brain fart on CNN. My favourite rapper J. Cole’s released a not so good album and Kanye West gave us trash after several months of teasing his upcoming album. Meanwhile, in my world, I’ve struggled to keep up blogging with intense hours of studies during my finals. Good news, I finally finished and passed out of med school. Hell yeah! But enough of the narcissism!

In Part One of YOLO, we took a journey through my shocking personal first-time experience with death. It still feels like yesterday, when that little kid faded away. In the end, we took a brutal insight into the ultimate truth:

Death is inevitable and coming for us all. Brace yourself!


In Part 2 of YOLO, things took a twist. We realized beliefs had a massive role in holding us back from living an amazing life and realizing our dreams. And now, we take our final journey. Hold my hands, let’s take the leap of faith, Assassins Creed style.


The maestro

For five years, I had tried my utmost best to catch an Uncle Ebo Whyte stageplay. The hype surrounding his stageplays was unreal! Every time I heard people give rave reviews of them, it further reminded me of how pathetic my life was then with chronic schooling. Then on the 7th of September last year, I had a once in a lifetime opportunity to watch his then-upcoming act dubbed “One Man Show: A Crazy Ride”.

The timing couldn’t be any better. I had just finished my finals and a good friend I had met way back in University had returned from Lesotho, and hell yeah, she knew someone who knew someone who had extra tickets for two. Finally, I was going to see Uncle Ebo Whyte for the first time. If you don’t know the man up there, where have you been living in the last 10 years? His name is Uncle Ebo Whyte – a creative playwright, marriage counsellor and a fucking legend! And I mean that in every breath of the word.


I made my way to the upper floor of the National Theatre. Lights go out, and out pops this bald middle-aged man in blue jeans pants, a white top, and a dashing pink jacket. ”Is that Uncle Ebo Whyte?” I whispered to my friend. “Yes!”, she says. Wow! I nod in awe. He makes quite an entry and starts engaging us in hilarious banter. I laugh so hard. Five minutes in and I’m already asking myself a dozen questions: where is the cast? Soon, it dawns on me – this isn’t a stage play. It’s stand up comedy! Huh? He’s never done this before.

Now, I’m an avid lover of stand up comedy. It’s one of the many cool stuff I do besides playing video games. 15 minutes in, and I’m being so critical of him, comparing him unfairly to the likes of Kevin Hart and Eddie Griffin. But he’s holding his own, delivering punches after punches. The style with which he delivers the adult jokes is breathtaking. I had laughed so hard, I was at the edge of mentalgasm. Then something happened


Uncle Ebo takes a deep breath and recounts a story. One that would have a deep impact on my life, and change him forever. He wakes up one morning, and is told by a close relative – “I’ve had a dream you’re going to die”. He freaks out. Later during the week, his niece runs to her mom, telling her, ”Mom, I had a dream Grandpa was dead”. Worst of all, two more people tell him the same thing; “Uncle Ebo, you’re going to die soon”. What’s the word to describe such a situation? Clusterfuck!! 

He continues with a deep sigh which reverberates throughout the auditorium. At this point, the whole place is dead silent. Swear I could hear my own heartbeat. And with a worried manly tone, he says, “I was so much convinced I was going to die. I went down on my knees and cried, ‘‘Oh God, if you let me live to see my 64th birthday I will do something I’ve never done before to honour you’‘.
A tear rolls down my eye.


It is the year 1969, and Ernest Becker had just been relieved of duty as a teaching professor for the third time in his academic career. Three years on, he is diagnosed with colon cancer and would spend the next two years of his life bedridden with little hope as the prognosis was fatal. Within the period between diagnosis and death, Becker writes a book about death. Gifting the world with a Pulitzer-winning book titled “The Denial Of Death” which will change the world of Psychiatry for generations to come.

Pulitzer Award Winner: The Denial Of Death

The most important question here is: why did it take a grim prognosis of colon cancer for Becker to write an astounding intellectual world-changing book? Why will it take the knowledge of imminent death for Uncle Ebo Whyte to face his fears and do something he hasn’t done his entire life? The Denial Of Death has the answers.

Read: 5 Books Than Would Change Your World


Ernest Becker will call this phenomenon, the Terror of Death. Being honest, I am scared of dying. And you probably might be too. Death scares the shit out of all of us. Becker argues eternalism has been built into our biology. We want to live forever. To do this, mankind goes into “self-preservation mode” – a deliberate effort against disintegration a.k.a take action to survive as long as possible or at worst outlive our existence.

The ever-present fear of death is an affective part of “self-preservation”. What this means is, subconsciously, the fear of death drives us to survive counterintuitively. It is the reason we eat good food, go to work to put food on the table, buy drugs to cure illness.

In short, we do not want to die.

the denial of death

Then is where shit hits the roof. Many people repress this gift of nature consciously. Many people do not come to terms with the reality of their mortality. People do not want to talk about death. Ignoring the idea of dying one day becomes a safer option and will gladly shove a middle finger when it comes up. But then, should this be?

The Sunny Side Of Death

The denial of death. painting

Early men who were most afraid were those who were most realistic about their situation in nature, and they passed on to their offspring a realism that had a high survival value.



It was another Friday in my budding bubbly life as a junior doctor. I was on an errand to get a bladder syringe for my patient. The only place to get one was the Stroke Unit. I entered with much enthusiasm, greeting the nurse-in-charge. Then she bursts out in anger, “get it and leave!”. The first thought that pops in my head, “the fuck she thinks she is?” I grab the syringe and just when I’m about leaving, something will happen that will give me a sense of appreciation for this gift of nature.


“Young man, check this patient’s pulse”. Oh hell, she needs my help now? I walk up to the patient, checked his pulse and felt nothing. Checked his carotid pulse, nothing. Popped out my pen torch, no pupillary response. No chest activity, cold extremities. Checked his Sp02 and BP. Read unrecordable.

My thoughts burst out, “shit he’s dead?”. All the nurses turn around looking at me. “Yes! Just seconds ago. We were even conversing”, the in-charge said. “Certify his death”. At that point, my hands were shaking. I had just had another fresh encounter with death. But unlike watching from afar in YOLO: Part 1, this was an up-close encounter and one experienced in real-time.

I went home, in deep thought. What if this was the last time, I ever get to talk to someone? What if this was the last time, I ever took a walk home? Was I prepared for this reality?

Pre-tragedy, I was this guy who was taking life casually, occasionally writing blog posts, occasionally calling the family to tell them how much I love them, eating just about anything and animalistic in the pursuit of pleasure.

Post-tragedy, I am giving quality fucks about what is most important in my life: family, real friends, my health, my spirituality, my blog, my whole existence. In essence, things that give true meaning to my life. And all it took was the reality of confronting my mortality. I was going to die someday. I had no surety of how long that will be.

The trouble is you think you have time- Buddha. The denial of death!

In truth, it could be by a plane crash, cancer, heck every calorie we take in could be pushing us towards our demise. There really is no much time.


Read: How Many Tomorrows We Got

Oddly, it will be a patient’s death at Stroke Unit that will give deeper meaning to my life. It will be the imminence of death that would make Uncle Ebo Whyte let go of all insecurities to produce one of his life’s best performances. And it was the grim prognosis of colon cancer that would give Ernest Becker the chance to write his best work.

If you ever doubted, God answers prayers, I was staring right at an answered prayer. God had granted him life, and Uncle Ebo had fulfilled his end of the bargain with something extraordinary. Something he says he had never dreamed of doing, and hell yeah, he threw us all off with “a crazy ride”. 


The show ends with the choir singing Ryan Shupe’s “Dream Big” as Uncle Ebo sits on a stool ad-libbing along, slowly fading away from the stage. It was an emotional climax to the show. My heart was beating. I had just witnessed beauty beyond measure.


Yet, in a bizarre, backwards way, death is the light by which the shadow of all of life’s meaning is measured. Without death, everything would feel inconsequential, all experience arbitrary, all metrics and values suddenly zero

Mark Manson( Subtle of Not Giving A F*ck) 

You might just not be lucky like Uncle Ebo to get a second shot at taking a leap of faith. In truth, you don’t need a diagnosis of cancer to give life your utmost best shot.

Time is now! Confront the reality of your mortality. Fuck all your insecurities, failures, disappointments. Ask that girl out, tell your loved ones you love them and show you mean it. Give your life a deeper purpose.

Truly, death is coming for us all and it is your life’s biggest motivator!


Share your thoughts in the comment section below, subscribe and share. Till then, you don’t have forever.

Cheers, DrC.

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