Death Is Not As Far Away As We Think 🥀

I just got into school for my second semester of year one and the anticipation to finally finish the session was overwhelming. I attended a few classes for the first few weeks. Everything was going really well or so I thought.

It was a weekend in which I went back home to visit friends and family that everything went downhill. Ohh I almost forgot, my name is Esther, Esther Akpan and this is the story of how I almost died.

It all started with stomach ache. Doesn’t seem like quite a big deal abi ? But it was. I couldn’t eat or sleep, it was like a million sharp knives was poking at my stomach. I told my elder sister and Dad but we didn’t think much about it. I just took Panadol and the pain subsided. It was all good before it became all sour.

On a beautiful morning, I just  finished cooking a meal of afang soup. With the excitement of taking couple of garrison balls,I puked.I first vomited the food. Later,it became something else which was definitely not my garrison and soup. And this was how it continued for days. Eat and vomit, eat and  vomit.

I was finally taken to the hospital for a check up. There I was on the examination bed, thinking of how I could get out of here and back to school because I had missed quite a lot from school. After a series of check ups I was diagnosed of having appendicitis.

I was utterly confused and wondering what appendicitis meant and how on earth I could have gotten that. I know it had something to do with the intestines and stones or something like that but that was all. The doctor explained what it meant and just a simple surgery of just an hour or so and everything will be fine.

On the 4 of September 2019,I had my first surgery. It was a gruesome experience. I was given anesthesia. I was to be awake for the whole operation. I literally witnessed my stomach being cut open. Although I didn’t feel any pain it wasn’t something genial.The nurse held my hand and told me everything would be fine . I tried,I really tried but somehow I felt something was off about the operation.

After the surgery,I wasn’t fine as the doctor said I would be. I was told to take just water. For close to a month just water, nothing. The scar wasn’t healing at all. Water,blood and mucus became my best friend. On the 9 of October 2019, I had my second surgery. It became worse after the surgery. The correctional surgery was a failure. I was so livid. What was really wrong? I started doubting the competence of the doctors then. What if I was just a test monkey to them for some experiment.

My sister was ever at my side. She was always there when I needed someone to talk to. The operation area was an eyesore. It was partially open with things oozing out that made me smell like the living dead. The patients at my ward came and left. I was there for months. Friends came to visit. Even people I had just a conversation or two with. It was truly heartwarming.

The surgeons gave up on me. My extended family abandoned me. In time of need people will really shock you. I was so hungry. I hadn’t eaten in like forever. I couldn’t eat,wasn’t allowed to and thereafter I lost appetite. I last pooped on 3 September. On 21 October I pooped again. It was really painful. I took drugs to help me with the constipation.

One day,as I laid on the hospital bed, I lost all hope in my recovery and life. I started making plans for my burial. I told my sister which song I wanted to be played and the color of my coffin. The only hope I had left was with God. I silently prayed to God that if it was his will, he should let me live so that I would become a living testimony of his mercy and goodwill. But if not, he should take me away peacefully in my sleep without pain. Day after day I just laid there waiting to die.

I had never felt so helpless in my life. For someone who was independent to someone who couldn’t even clean up herself after excrement was really degrading.I was just skin and bones,patiently waiting for my death day.

My pastor and people from my fellowship came to pray with and for me anytime they could. My ward was always filled with tingling Christian songs that uplifted the spirit and soul. And maybe that was the only thing that made me feel alive. After a few weeks I was recovering by Gods grace. 

And on the 26th of November I was discharged. To finally be out the in sun was a delightful experience for me. I really appreciated all the little things that was associated with living. I distantly remember one night, I woke up crying. Crying that I knew it was time to go. I could feel it in my bones. I could feel life leaving me. I tried holding my sisters hand as hard as I could. Thinking that it will keep me grounded on earth and I didn’t have to leave. But before the darkness enveloped me, I said a silent prayer. “God please let me live, so I can be a living testimony for your miracles and good will”. I kept on repeating that till darkness enveloped me.

I woke up the next morning to a room with my sister, a doctor and a nurse. Tests were ran on me and by Gods grace, the drugs were working and a few weeks later, I left the hospital. The hospital which I had spent almost a year in, I was so grateful to God. I called and he answered and brought me out of my misery.

I thought all my problems were over. But it really wasn’t. After the whole ordeal, I was really skinny, well I was slim before but after not eating well for months I became skinny. I got a lot of stares because of my body size. When I returned to school I heard snide comments about my weight here and there. “She’s so skinny. Abeg she should go and eat” , “see,see this skinny girl coming” , “Daa God forbid me being this skinny oo”, they said with derogatory eyes and wicked laughs.

At first I felt bad. People really don’t know what another person is going through and they just talk. I couldn’t go around with a placard saying I was sick before and almost died,which was the reason for my drastic weight loss, so I just let them be. I tried as much as I could to ignore the bad comments and I took to God in prayer. I surrounded myself with my close friends and family who supported me throughout. And I wasn’t so bothered about what people thought of me anymore.

Well my story just goes to show that God does exist and just by calling his name anything be it good that you ask of him will be given to you. I also urge everyone to go for routine and regular checkups. For any and everything as your pocket can allow. If I usually did checkups, I would have noticed my appendicitis earlier and done something about it before it became a ruptured one which led to a lot of complications.

*BASED ON A TRUE LIFE STORY*