I have had many unbelievable and expected days, both good and back and in response to this Hive Naija prompt, I would want to share about the day I never expected a sudden sickness.
Saturdays are always busy for me, and so was that particular Saturday. I did everything I had planned, finished work at around 7:00 pm, and headed to the salon to get a haircut in preparation for the next day, which was a Sunday. I slept that evening after having dinner, only to wake up around 5:00 am the following morning to prepare for church, and I met my whole body system weakened and in pain. There was a severe headache, cold, and the worst of them all was stomach pain. I remained in the bed, wondering what could be wrong because all through Saturday, I didn’t experience any symptoms or signs that a sickness was coming.
I tried to get up, but the headache would hit my head so hard, like it was about to fall off. That was it—I stayed in bed with my stomach pressed against the pillow and the bed because the pain was just too much. There was no drug in the house, not even the common paracetamol. I kept wondering about the sudden Sunday sickness. Maybe I fought a battle in my dream, and the effect instantly appeared in the physical. Just maybe.
Time was already running. I watched as it moved from 5:00 am to 7:00 am, the exact time church service was to start. I knew at that point that I wasn’t going to make it to the first service, which starts at 7:00 am. I hoped the pain would stop before 9:00 am so I could attend the second service, but there was no way. It even became more serious. The cold increased badly, and I wrapped myself tightly in a blanket. Funny enough, electricity was restored, and my ceiling fan—always left on because I love coolness—started blowing, but I lacked the strength to get up and turn it off. What a crazy Sunday morning it was!
When the cold became unbearable, I didn't even know when I borrowed strength from any spirit nearby, got up to turn off the fan, and quickly jumped back on the bed.
By the time it got to 9:00 am, the hour I had proposed for church, the sickness was still intense. I knew my phone would soon start buzzing with calls once my group was done with the first service and didn’t see me, so I quickly texted the leader of my unit and afterward put my phone on airplane mode. I didn’t want those sympathetic calls to start coming in.
It was around 12 noon when I gathered a little strength and went to the chemist shop on my street to get drugs. I must say, the journey to the chemist shop felt like using leg to travel from Nigeria to South Africa. The ray of light (the daylight) that hit me when I stepped onto the road felt like a large floodlight was directed at my eyes.
I took the drugs right there in the chemist shop and sat for a while, hoping the medicine would work some magic and give me the strength to walk back home—but no way. The medicine didn’t perform any magic. After sitting there for about an hour, I managed to return home and lay on my bed.
That was how I remained until around 10:00 pm when I began to notice some relief.
I won’t lie, all through the sickness, I was never scared of death. It never occurred to me that I could die from the sickness.
The next day, when I was ready to respond to messages and calls, I saw how a lot of church people had reached out. It felt nice, even though it took me some time to reply to all those sympathetic messages.
Thanks for reading.
Photo used is mine