Tag: hospital

Meena’s Diary#6

Survivor

The doctors rushed in as I got a glimpse of Sa’a gasping for breath while the hospital staff shooed us out.An eerie feeling filled the air, I shivered with goose pimples, negotiating with the creator to spare her life. My thoughts went to her little twin girls. Who would take care of them if anything happened to her?

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I was pacing the length and breadth of the reception, too apprehensive to sit down.
” Meena,” Hawau called out to me.
“You should sit down. Let’s hope for the best.”

She looked more scared and subdued than she thought she was letting on but this was not the time or place to hassle her.

“Do you think she’ll make it?”
“I hope she does. If for anything for her girls
“Do you think Atiku would marry this new girl?”

“You might need to ask him that question Meena. I am not him, and for the life of me, I don’t know what he is thinking.”
I closed my eyes as the pain washed over me. I tried to imagine JK marrying someone else or maybe having an affair, and the mere thought was enough to kill me.I shook my head willing the idea out of my head.
“What would you have done if you were Sa’a?” asked Hauwau
“I don’t know. The thought just crossed my mind, and I don’t wish it upon my enemy. It will kill me. Sa’a might not have a choice since her culture allows it. Although we thought with Atiku being an educated man, it will be different, but with JK, polygamy is not an option.
“If polygamy is not an option. You are aware they could have affairs and mistresses outside ko bahaka ba?” said Hauwau emphasising her point in the Hausa language.
“JK would never do that. He loves me and the kids so much to toe that line.”
Hauwau laughed. “Oh my naïve friend. I am with you in your paradise of foolishness.”
I was on the verge of replying when the team of doctors and nurses who were with Sa’a came out.

We rushed out to them with hope in our eyes. The lead Doctor smiled at us and reassuring us “She pulled through but is resting now. She will be all right.”
We both heaved a sigh of relief.
“I have to go and pick the kids from school and would be back. I would spend the night with her. Shouldn’t we call Atiku?”I asked again.
“He should be here with his wife and not on some rendezvous with a God forsaken girl who sees no wrong in going after someone’s husband.”
“You have been itching to call him. Call him,” hissed Hauwau. She has been in a foul mood all day, and I was yet to get around asking her what the problem was.
I pulled my phone and dialled his number which he picked on the first ring.
“Hajia Meena, ya kike?” He greeted me over the phone.
“Kalau  Atiku but there is a problem. We almost lost Sa’a today. Thank God she is out of danger,” And I started crying over the phone.
“When was this?” He asked, and I could hear the trepidation in his voice.
“This morning.”
“Why did you not call me?”
I had to lie to answer the question. “I was called in by Hauwau. Everything was happening so fast that I was so confused not until the doctor just assured us she was going to be alright, did it occur to me to call you. At least the latter part was true. Where are you I ventured to asked?” feigning ignorance
“I am in Dubai, but I will be taking the next available flight back home. “What hospital is she in?”
“Gurara Hospital.”
I whooped for joy. The situation was not that bad. He still cared for Sa’a.

Omowashe omorishe#25

Wrong diagnosis

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My stay in the hospital which should not have taken more than three days took a downturn. I was not getting any better rather weaker and weaker. The Doctor kept insisting on his dehydration diagnosis. One would have thought that with all drips my body had been subjected too would have provided my system with the required fluid. Going into near cardiac arrest was what gave an indication that all was not well with me. I was grappling with more than just dehydration.

Wrong diagnosis. Andrew pleaded with his mum to take my case although she was not the doctor seeing me. After that, I was made to run series of tests using my blood and urine. All sorts of scans and prodding and poking of my body.
Did I think my family issue was the worst to happen to me? Being told I had diabetes type 2 was a more devastating news.  What brought me to the hospital in the first place paled compared to the diagnosis. The doctor said that had it not been detected, my body system would have shot down due to the high glucose in my blood.

Anger and hurt are forgotten. I was fighting for my life. The first time I visited the hospital during Peju’s wedding was a giveaway symptom missed by the doctors. I have heard of how people died by the wrong diagnosis but never thought I would be a victim. For a very famous and well – recognised hospital who would have thought? How did the doctor miss it? No performing of a lab test was required just a physical examination and a concluded prognosis.

I overheard Uncle Segun ranting that if anything happened to me, he was going to sue the hospital and make sure the medical council revoked their license to operate. They were not fit to be called a hospital but a death centre.

It took the hospital Medical Director who was passing by at the time of his ranting to calm down. He insisted that I  should be referred to another hospital or be handed over to a more competent doctor. The Medical Director assured him Andrew’s mum who is a clinical consultant had taken over my case.

Diabetes? Me? At my age. Diabetes was an old person disease. A terminal illness. How long did I have to leave? Would I have time to make peace with my parents and uncle before I die?  Would I be able to work or would I be bedridden like my grandma and subjected to eating only protein and little or no carbohydrates with the drugs to take round the clock?

The thought of it would have killed me. Had not the Hospital brought in a counsellor to talk me through what diabetes is and is not and what I need to do and look out for to ensure I stayed alive and well? It was not a killer disease. I could manage it and live a normal life.

Isn’t it so funny how we hear about a disease so often but have our misconceptions? Yes, people do die from diabetes, but a whole more people learn to live with it and thrive without succumbing to it. How more wrong could my life go from here? I have become invalid and no more a whole person. Now I had to watch my diet and watch myself around the clock Death stared me in the face and I knew I did not want to die. I wanted to live.  I wanted to come to terms with my heritage and achieve all my goals. I wanted to live, love and laugh and if possible do all in luxury and style and not with diabetes. I wanted to beat the disease.

Most days I was so exhausted that visitors’ hours were no more than thirty minutes. I could barely keep my eyes open with all the drugs injected into me.
Bode and Andrew still made for visiting hours. Sometimes as little as five minutes but they put in so much effort to see me smile. My voice was all raspy. It was tiring to talk. I would smile, nod or blink to let them know I was hanging in there while they did all the talking and joking like I was not ill.

Uncle Segun dropped in every day and my parents, but whenever I saw them, I feigned to be asleep. I had forgiven them in my way, so I thought but was not ready to face them or talk about it to them until I was much stronger.

Andrew’s mum who was now my Doctor became my friend and confidant. There are days she would stop by after her clinical rounds and just spend time with me talking and reassuring me. She seemed to read my fears and did her best to allay them.

She would tell me of her story as a young girl whose father was one of the British colonial masters and married a Nigerian. Growing up in Ikoyi then and how she left for England at age ten or how she met Andrew’s father while in the University in England and fell in love with him at first sight. She did not think twice when he asked her to marry him and follow him back to Nigeria. She has been in Nigeria since with no regrets.

She would talk about her career how difficult it was to be one of the few female doctors at the time. Sometimes it would be about her kids. The stunts Andrew pulled as a kid. It was hard to picture the same person I knew. When she talked about her daughter, she would go emotional on how she missed her. You could see the mother-daughter bond based on mutual friendship and respect.

I loved what I had with my mum but knowing she was not my birth mum made a mockery of what we shared. To think that I would argue with my elder sister then that I was mother’s favourite and was not even her daughter. I have to give her credit as an amazing woman. I never felt I was not her child. It was confusing, but I did not want to dwell on that. I needed to focus all my energy on getting better and leaving the hospital.

Meena’s Diary #1

November 11, 2016

Today is my debut for Meena’s diary. Here I was, wishing for an extraordinary day to share. Something like dining in the white house with Obama and Trump while having a Tete- a- Tete with Michelle and Melania or somewhere in the Bahamas lazing alone leaving leboo and my brood back at home. Instead, I was booked to see my Doctor for a pap smear appointment.

It was my first time using this hospital. I asked my friend Sa’a who had informed me that it is the nurses who would carry out the exercise.

I walked into the GP’s office for my appointment.  I met a male doctor, and that was okay after all, it was a nurse and a female one who would perform the procedure. No hard feelings here and sorry to my Doctor friends. It’s a personal preference. I feel freer with my kindred – women.

I enter still dey form level –  finest big babe. The Doc asked me questions; age, last pap smear and medical history questions which I answered. See my phonetics. I still had no clue that he was the one to perform the pap smear.

That was how the Doc said they would give me some time to change into the hospital gown and he would come around to carry out the pap smear procedure.

I ate humble pie as to say the Doc don see me finish. All my “fine girl sophisticated babe posing.”

So we got on the table, and he kept saying open up, open wider. The more he said, the more I wanted the ground to swallow me.

As soon as the procedure was over, I was dressed back in power dressing but without my full kitted confidence. I had never been so eager to see the exit of an office like I was today.

I made a mental note always to request for a female doctor in such matters.  Although it was male doctors who took delivery of my two children but you all know, there is no shakara in the birth room.