5th January, 2013, we all resumed school with much stories to tell about our various holiday escapades –truth(s) and lies, it all made a good chat. Some students introduced new slangs and made it trend all through the term and next like BlackMagic’s ‘E easy O’ brought by Eva, ‘Obilimbilimbom’ by Tobi. Although I was always among the great participants in the chat, my concern for my academics was foremost. Entering the school compound to see the brown and yellow painted class blocks made my heart skip a beat; I wonder why this always happened? Even though I always came top of my class each term, I still wondered why the class block setting struck a grip of fear in me; not only on resumption days, Mondays of every academic week was inclusive.
Gboom! Gboom!! Gboom!!! Those were the sound that initiated the problem. I was at the refectory one faithful day having beans when it started, I felt it was my distaste for hot watery beans that made my cardiac cycle run abnormal for that period; I ignored it, ate my food, went to class to continue the days job. Retiring to my bed after following the school’s horarium, down to siesta, I laid down to sleep- eyes closed, silent mind trying to transcend to an unconscious state THEN my heart begins to beat faster than normal, alas my siesta is wasted, I take note of everything that happened.
Days later, I realized that the left side of my chest became bigger than the right; which probably caused my sleepless afternoons. I reported to the nurse at the school’s infirmary. After medical consultation, drug prescription and collection, nothing had effect or let’s say the drug worked for a different course am yet to know. I was cold, a rare one, although it was third term and cold was the weather description of that time reason being that it was rainy season. Imagine putting on four shirts and covering a huge blanket to sleep at noon and night. It wasn’t normal.
I learnt organic chemistry (although not perfectly) at JSS2 while copying from Micheal Orakwe’s note into Ike Ogbonna’s because senior students loved to give the juniors their note to copy for them. I couldn’t wait to get to SS2 and exhibit my ‘knowledge of Organic Chemistry.’ In SS2, during Chemistry class when the topic- Organic Chemistry came up I couldn’t exhibit anything, my cardiac issues would not allowed me, it barred my retentiveness, the pains were so much, I hardly remembered anything. All I remembered was pain! I slept, ate and drank pain - it was terrible and made me academically imbalance. I ended up failing chemistry that term. I couldn’t obtain permission from my principal to go home without concrete proof that I was sick. So, after 3 months of enduring this pain, I visited the hospital, obtained a card, met the doctor after following an orderly queue. The doctor examined me and wrote things I couldn’t read on that big A3 white medical paper embedded in a brown file jacket. Done with his writing, he fixed a date for me; 24 June, 2013, a day after Pentecost. He said I had to see a special doctor, I came to a conclusion within me, Special cases required special doctors.
Days later, I realized that the left side of my chest became bigger than the right; which probably caused my sleepless afternoons. I reported to the nurse at the school’s infirmary. After medical consultation, drug prescription and collection, nothing had effect or let’s say the drug worked for a different course am yet to know. I was cold, a rare one, although it was third term and cold was the weather description of that time reason being that it was rainy season. Imagine putting on four shirts and covering a huge blanket to sleep at noon and night. It wasn’t normal.
I learnt organic chemistry (although not perfectly) at JSS2 while copying from Micheal Orakwe’s note into Ike Ogbonna’s because senior students loved to give the juniors their note to copy for them. I couldn’t wait to get to SS2 and exhibit my ‘knowledge of Organic Chemistry.’ In SS2, during Chemistry class when the topic- Organic Chemistry came up I couldn’t exhibit anything, my cardiac issues would not allowed me, it barred my retentiveness, the pains were so much, I hardly remembered anything. All I remembered was pain! I slept, ate and drank pain - it was terrible and made me academically imbalance. I ended up failing chemistry that term. I couldn’t obtain permission from my principal to go home without concrete proof that I was sick. So, after 3 months of enduring this pain, I visited the hospital, obtained a card, met the doctor after following an orderly queue. The doctor examined me and wrote things I couldn’t read on that big A3 white medical paper embedded in a brown file jacket. Done with his writing, he fixed a date for me; 24 June, 2013, a day after Pentecost. He said I had to see a special doctor, I came to a conclusion within me, Special cases required special doctors.
As a young charismatic student, I decided to cling to prayer. Despite my innumerable friends and best friend, I decided not to give an inkling of the ruckus I was passing through. I visited the Blessed Michael Iwene Tansi chapel more often, rendering my prayer and supplication for healing, believing that healing would arrive soon at my doorstep. With the forthcoming Pentecost day feast, I had faith.
Through rigorous Pentecost prayer and celebration, I left school with my bag packed with enough good wishes for whatever I was going for.
All dressed in white, I got to the hospital; went straight to see the ‘special’ doctor. I wish she had a beautiful face like her accent. Her accent sounded like a mix of American and Spanish. I couldn't tell which but from my guess, she definitely studied abroad. You can't go to school in Ibadan and have such accent. No offense to my Ibadan friends. She pulled out her stethoscope and carefully listened to my heartbeat. She took her time so much I began to think she might just hear the "Jesus Take the Wheel" song I was singing in my heart."Breathe in! Out... In.... Out!" were the only words she spoke to me in ten minutes or so after which, she asked an elderly nurse to run a heart scan on me. Unbuttoned my shirt, pulled my second-hand Jordan Air sneakers I bought from Samuel Amadi after his sister in the United States sent him brand new ones and he needed this pair no more, and socks, and watch, and belt - pretty much everything that could interfere with electromagnetic waves, I laid parallel on the Electrocardiogram thinking of how I would be positioned in my coffin when I die. "God forbid! I shall not die but live..." as my mother would say was what I muttered... I was loud enough to hear myself but i wondered if the the nurse heard me also. The test began and when the results were out, the nurse said ‘my son, are you a child of God?’ I smiled and replied ‘yes of course!’ that question made me think thrice if was a true child of God; she made me feel like from her view of the scan results my case was a very ‘special’ one. I refused to be emotionally broken down. While sitting down on the visitors sit across the doctor’s desk, I began to imagine the possibility of getting married to a lady who would like to know the anatomy of your body, just like Aunty Mitchell Matilda that jokingly told Felix she would like to run a test on her man to know his complete health status before marriage. I am not afraid, I have faith.
Dr. ‘Nice Accent, as I referred to her as, refused to show me my heart scan results rather she referred me to Federal Staff Hospital, Abuja. While I was leaving, the elderly nurse spoke two words which I carried carefully like eggs, she said ‘be prayerful’ and with a ‘thank you, ma’ to her I vamoosed.
***
Federal Staff Hospital, where the beginning ended. The hospital, a twenty-five minutes drive from home. I arrived there around 9:10am with my dad. We made inquiry about where to run the test written by my ‘special’ doctor, which she described as Excessive Palpitation. The test consultant relayed to us that the test costs fifteen thousand naira.
I was temporarily traumatised. Reasons not for the test bill, but seeing how a child of God is been subjected by a minor case considered major, visiting various hospitals and meeting different doctors. I convinced my dad who insisted that I should allow him pay the money that no amount is too huge for my healthcare. I told him that prayer is the key, I would pray and conquer it. After much persuasion to allow him carry out his parental responsibility..he gave up.
I stand tall as a conqueror this day. Prayer solved all. Am completely healed. My redeemer delivered me.
Through rigorous Pentecost prayer and celebration, I left school with my bag packed with enough good wishes for whatever I was going for.
All dressed in white, I got to the hospital; went straight to see the ‘special’ doctor. I wish she had a beautiful face like her accent. Her accent sounded like a mix of American and Spanish. I couldn't tell which but from my guess, she definitely studied abroad. You can't go to school in Ibadan and have such accent. No offense to my Ibadan friends. She pulled out her stethoscope and carefully listened to my heartbeat. She took her time so much I began to think she might just hear the "Jesus Take the Wheel" song I was singing in my heart."Breathe in! Out... In.... Out!" were the only words she spoke to me in ten minutes or so after which, she asked an elderly nurse to run a heart scan on me. Unbuttoned my shirt, pulled my second-hand Jordan Air sneakers I bought from Samuel Amadi after his sister in the United States sent him brand new ones and he needed this pair no more, and socks, and watch, and belt - pretty much everything that could interfere with electromagnetic waves, I laid parallel on the Electrocardiogram thinking of how I would be positioned in my coffin when I die. "God forbid! I shall not die but live..." as my mother would say was what I muttered... I was loud enough to hear myself but i wondered if the the nurse heard me also. The test began and when the results were out, the nurse said ‘my son, are you a child of God?’ I smiled and replied ‘yes of course!’ that question made me think thrice if was a true child of God; she made me feel like from her view of the scan results my case was a very ‘special’ one. I refused to be emotionally broken down. While sitting down on the visitors sit across the doctor’s desk, I began to imagine the possibility of getting married to a lady who would like to know the anatomy of your body, just like Aunty Mitchell Matilda that jokingly told Felix she would like to run a test on her man to know his complete health status before marriage. I am not afraid, I have faith.
Dr. ‘Nice Accent, as I referred to her as, refused to show me my heart scan results rather she referred me to Federal Staff Hospital, Abuja. While I was leaving, the elderly nurse spoke two words which I carried carefully like eggs, she said ‘be prayerful’ and with a ‘thank you, ma’ to her I vamoosed.
***
Federal Staff Hospital, where the beginning ended. The hospital, a twenty-five minutes drive from home. I arrived there around 9:10am with my dad. We made inquiry about where to run the test written by my ‘special’ doctor, which she described as Excessive Palpitation. The test consultant relayed to us that the test costs fifteen thousand naira.
I was temporarily traumatised. Reasons not for the test bill, but seeing how a child of God is been subjected by a minor case considered major, visiting various hospitals and meeting different doctors. I convinced my dad who insisted that I should allow him pay the money that no amount is too huge for my healthcare. I told him that prayer is the key, I would pray and conquer it. After much persuasion to allow him carry out his parental responsibility..he gave up.
I stand tall as a conqueror this day. Prayer solved all. Am completely healed. My redeemer delivered me.
Nice one. Ur blog is 🙌🙌🙌🙌. Oshey!
ReplyDeleteNice one. Ur blog is 🙌🙌🙌🙌. Oshey!
ReplyDeleteGreat write up. Prayer indeed changes things.
ReplyDelete