Everything happened so suddenly, so unexpected. As I lay on the small hospital bed, in the little white painted room, waiting for the summon to surrender my body to the surgeon’s knives, everything began reeling out before me. Both sounds and pictures, just as in the movies. I had this strange feeling that my life had come to an end. An abrupt one at that, for this was not the way I had always envisioned myself exiting this world. Somehow, I had over the years been convinced that my exit would be all planned out and carefully executed. I will then peacefully slip or sleep out. But circumstances at that moment, that fateful rainy Tuesday afternoon, on the 7th day of June, meant that I had been wrong all this while. The dream that I would have all the time and wherewithal to set my house in order before I die now seemed exactly what it was, a dream. The opportunity to make restitutions, reconciliations, renunciations and re-dedications appeared to have dissolved into nothingness. I said to myself, “so there will be no time for all the thank you, I’m sorry, and I love you”. My thoughts raced to my son and as if by telepathy, he opened the door and stuck his head in, asking if I was ready. Emotions flooded through me and I was moved to tears but I did not want him to see me in fear and in pain. I decided to send him back home with some things I did not need at the hospital and would not need ever again if indeed my time was up. He tried to refuse, insisting he wanted to be in the theatre while the surgery went on, but I won. I told him it was important that we took precautions and that the errand was for his own good. As he walked away, my heart sank. Was this really the end?
It all began Sunday, 29th May as I tried to undress. My left breast felt heavy and painful. I quickly did an examination and realised that I had an inflamed lump. Was it an old growth or a new one? I have a running battle that has spanned almost two decades with Fibrocystic disease, but I have not had a new growth in over two years. I decided not to panic and prayed that the pain would subside quickly. Luckily, it did, but my mind kept telling me I had to go for medical examination. So, Thursday morning I was at the hospital where the breasts were examined and I was referred for further tests, which included Mammography and scan. But as I made the get off the bed, my doctor asked, “this your stomach looks rather big, what is inside?” To this we all laughed and I told him of my bad eating habit and how I would sometimes eat as late as 11pm or even as early as 2am if I was still awake. He suggested exercises and eating early and I left for the laboratory for the tests. It was there that the miracles of this whole drama began unfolding. Indeed, God does speak to all of us. His, is that tiny voice that directs when we remain calm and allow him to take over. As I waited for my turn to register and pay for the tests, that tiny voice kept telling me to add an abdominal scan to the doctor’s list. My bill ran up to N22,000 and I wanted to change my mind. I told myself there was no hurry since I would still come back in August for the annual tests anyway. But as I turned around to leave, the voice told me again to add the abdominal scan. So I asked how much it would cost and he said N7,000. Wow. That’s approximately N30,000! One day on test only? Yet again, I turned to leave, but that small voice held me back and asked, “what’s the difference between now and August? Don’t you sometimes spend that much on trivial things?” It was just as if I was in a conversation with the voice. So, I said, “that’s true” and asked the lady to add the full abdominal and pelvic scan. This turned out to be the saving stroke. I realised something was wrong when the doctor began asking all sorts of questions. “Is this a routine test? Why are you doing this? Do you feel any pain? Blah blah blah! I told her it was a routine test and she could cull up results of my annual tests from their system. She did but could not find a report for 2015. Only for 2014 down to 2011 when I began using their centre. Well, This could only mean that I did not take the test here in 2015 but at another diagnostics centre. Suddenly, she dropped the bomb shell. There is a cyst in my right lower abdomen. I froze! How big, I asked? Very big, she said and proceeded to mark it out for me on the monitor screen. “I’m worried because it appears to be growing rapidly and worse still, it has some liquid in it. I advice you see your doctor immediately, he will know what to do”, she explained. Back at the hospital on Friday, my doctor nearly fell out of his sit on seeing the report. Either of two things could happen, a twist or a rupture and both were life threatening. The absence of a 2015 report made it difficult for him to determine when the growth began and how rapidly it had developed to that size. The initial complaint that brought me to the hospital was considered “child’s play” compared to the chance discovery and the surgery was proposed for Sunday. I was not ready physically, psychologically, financially and spiritually, so we shifted to Tuesday. When I finally regained consciousness Wednesday, I was informed that God had indeed performed two miracles for me and not one. That on checking my Appendix, it was also on the verge of rupturing. The doctors reiterated severally that had I not walked in by myself for the surgery, I was not likely to survive the next two to three weeks as either the cyst or the Appendix would have ruptured, poisoned my body and sent me to an early grave. God in His infinite mercy saved me from the jaws of sudden death only by me listening in those still split seconds to that tiny voice. Four weeks later, I was back in that same hospital theatre, same team of doctors, to commence examination and treatment for the initial complaint that brought me to the hospital. A journey that would span June to September. I learnt a very important lesson from this incident. It is very important to know your body and how it works. This is perhaps the only way to figure out and at the right time too, should something go wrong. After I learnt that I also had an inflamed Appendix, I recalled that I had mentioned this on our way back from a family function on 4th May. I had felt some sharp pains in my lower abdomen. It was as if I was being poked by a needle and I informed my sister that I suspect it was Appendicitis. Her response was “God forbid, it is not our portion”. But it was. And I didn’t do anything about it because I did not want to admit it could be “our portion”. Regular medical check is also important as we age. Perhaps, if I did not skip the 2015 check, we could have found it when it was just a little growth and avoided the fire brigade operation. Again, I have come to the conclusion that it would be rather difficult for anyone to be truly prepared for death. Not unless one is planning to commit suicide. In fact, how does one begin to put his house in order? By dotting every i and crossing every t in all your actions and relationships to the best of your ability? Nobody can please everybody. You can only do your bit and leave the rest. Death is an inevitable end. It will come when it will, no matter what we do. We can only pray that God grants us the grace to live out His promised three scores and ten. And so, here I am again. Glad to be back. A special thank you to all those who asked after me during my absence here. A special thank you also to my friend, the one I call the Giant; Mrs Omasan Duru for taking good care of my son. My boss, Mr. Gbenga Adefaye for his support and prayers all these years. My darling sisters, the AAGCSS Old Girls’ Association, My wonderful family members and friends. God bless you all.
