A Celestial's Memoir I

RUNNING...

As I sat by the widow of the Bus, all I could think of was alighting at my destination.

To be free from the sound of cars honking in the traffic, drivers cursing at each other for trying to maneuver through tiny spaces, the smell of dust in the air and the threatening faces of hawkers intentionally waving their items in my face; as if to compel me to buy, the smell of sweaty strangers, filling the bus with poor ventilation and the loud chattering of their conversations. It was a type of discomfort that was a norm in these parts. Like accepting the things you cannot change.

As uncomfortable as it made me feel, I preferred this experience to remaining at the place where I was coming from; home.

I didn't hate my home , I hated where it was.

Facing an unfavorable financial crisis, Daddy took the decision to relocate back to the village.

I do not hate him for that either, I could never despise dad for any reason. It was the best decision to take as at the time. That or depression; the type that could take a man's life.

The village; it somehow threatened my happiness and well-being, in ways I couldn't explain. The people; always acting like they had the intent to make you feel small, insecure or bad about yourself ; even if these actions described them more.

There was always this physical weight I felt every time we drove past the signage

" WELCOME TO OBINYI STATE "

It was toxic. I always felt nervous, my palms would begin to sweat, and my mouth would get dry. It made me sick!

But my family was there now and it was home and there was nothing I could do about it.

I had left the village for Algidi where my sister was. At least that was what my parents knew; and we were almost there.

I was running even although I refused to accept it. I was running to where I could breathe and be free.

My phone rang . It was a call from my doctor. The type of call no one would ever want to receive, but it wasn't a choice. I picked. " Good evening Dr Tama,...I'm fine thank you, I've been expecting your call ".

More like I've been dreading it.

" Yes, I have gone through the results and I strongly advise you see the Oncologist at the teaching Hospital. It is important that you do it as soon as possible " He said .

I froze in that moment, my eyes widened, my breathing accelerated, I could hear my heart beat and it hurt. Sweat began to trickle down my neck, I lost concentration and goosebumps sprung up all over my bare arms. I was afraid. It was one of the few times I ever felt real fear. I didn't care anymore about getting to my destination , It didn't give me the pleasure that it usually would. My mind kept racing through a lot of things, like the celerity of a closed-circuit television. At the same time, they were all blank thoughts.

It was the month of January, about two weeks in; and few months ago, the previous year, I underwent a lumpectomy.

I remember waiting in the changing room that led to the theatre; I already had a hospital gown on. It was a semi-restricted area of the surgical department. They had said my blood pressure was high . I was soo anxious. The idea was to give me time to calm my mind.

It wasn't my first breast surgery but going under the knife isn't exactly a fun experience, no matter how many times one might have gone through with it. Besides, this time it was different. The lump that was to be removed was different. I didn't know how yet, but I felt it. Each time I examined it; while I was having my bath, getting dressed or even just laying on the bed, I had a feeling of worry and discomfort. It wasn't like the previous one. This one bothered me.

After about an hour or more, a nurse walked in and wheeled me into the operating room . It was intimidating at first. The whole medical team involved in the surgery were present. Operating room nurses, charged with preparing surgical equipment. Sterilizing surgical blades, setting drip stands and asking questions about dozes of things I certainly did not understand. The surgeon, anesthesiologist and some student doctors were all present. It was overwhelming. After I laid down, the anesthesiologist spread my arms on a platform that had been attached to both sides of the operating table, then he raised and tilted the table to the best position . It reminded me of Jesus on the cross, then I began to wonder what sin I was paying for.

The sight of needles made my heart skip a beat. The anesthesiologist was going to insert an intravenous Catheter in my forearm for the anesthetics and other medicines; it didn't hurt much. There was a huge operating room lamp placed above me. I also noticed that I was connected to various monitors that were meant to keep track of my vital signs. There was also a Ventilator by the head of the operating table; imagining it being used on me felt scary. That I would loose my breath, that I'll need it's help to stay alive; it threatened me.

My thoughts were distracted by a nurse, she wheeled a stainless steel table to my right side, it was carrying the already sterile instruments to be used during the surgery. The room was soo cold, that was the last thing I noticed before I fell unconscious.

In my unconscious state, I was in a white world. That is how I love to describe it. Everything was white. There was a staircase in an open space. There were people in there that I didn't identify with, it was almost like there weren't there but they were and it seemed like I was moving. Roaming. It felt weird.

I could also hear the voices of the doctors and nurses but I could hardly make sense of what they were saying. It was like I was present and absent at the same time, I can't fully explain.

My first surgery wasn't as eventful. I was fully awake although I didn't feel a thing. The space was much smaller. It wasn't an operation room and I shared it with another man who was to be operated on too, but I didn't know why he was being operated on. A blue thick cloth made a demarcation between us, or maybe it was Green. There were just three health care professionals present on my side of the room and they all wore head covers and warm-up jackets. It was a free medical outreach for simple surgeries, so it was understandable. I was awake through out the process and I didn't think it took up to an hour.

Hours later I was being wheeled out of the theater, I was still unconscious, physically, but I was aware. I had left the white world and I didn't know when. I heard the nurse say - " She hasn't stopped singing since the surgery begun..." It was then I realized I was singing, It was the only thing I seemed not to be aware of. I didn't understand how I missed it.

I was in the room, in a private ward. I heard Dad's voice, he's always there.

I smiled softly and called out to him- "Daddy"...

" Yes my baby, I'm right here " he replied " just relax okay, you need the rest"

His voice gave me comfort.

My eyes were slightly open, almost like I was squinting. The anesthesia was gradually wearing off. I was now slightly conscious but still extremely weak. I was happy. It felt good to be back.

After the surgery , I was informed that the tissue removed will be sent to a pathology lab. They called it a biopsy sample. They were going to study it and come up with a diagnosis. I had to wait weeks for the result.

I had spent the holiday at home, in Obinyi, with my family. I love seeing the shinny Christmas lights that decorates my street and the sound of fresh fallen leaves on the ground. Christmas reminds me of family, the laughter and love we share, and the gifts we gave to each other. My house on Christmas became the center of my joy. I remember waking up on Christmas day with a huge smile on my face, heart full of joy and gratitude. As soon as I got out of bed I rushed down the steps into the kitchen to start with the preparation for all the meals that were to be made on this special day. We had different variety of food to prepare; turkey, fried and jollof rice, salad, ofe nsala, pounded yam... I already knew how I was spending the day, as always. In the kitchen.

It was memorable.

Days later I was informed that the result from the pathology was ready and I had to go collect.

I wish it had waited, I wish I had the chance to drown in the feeling of the post Christmas celebration. I wished a lot of things.

Leaving the lab, my hands trembled as I held the report, neatly folded in a white envelope, addressed to me. My palms became sweaty. I felt a heavy sharp pain in my guts. I was scared again, I felt the same discomfort from when I examined the lump, before the surgery. I was walking out of the hospital premises, deliberating on whether or not I should open the envelope just yet.

I opened it, I couldn't bear the anxiety.

Waiting makes me anxious.

Few days later, I already forgot about everything and I was back to living my normal life. Laughing, happy, chatting, frowning, upset; and everything else in-between. Everything did feel normal, until days after Christmas.

I had spent the holiday at home, in Obinyi, with my family. I love seeing the shinny Christmas lights that decorates my street and the sound of fresh fallen leaves on the ground. Christmas reminds me of family, the laughter and love we share, and the gifts we gave to each other. My house on Christmas became the center of my joy. I remember waking up on Christmas day with a huge smile on my face, heart full of joy and gratitude. As soon as I got out of bed I rushed down the steps into the kitchen to start with the preparation for all the meals that were to be made on this special day. We had different variety of food to prepare; turkey, fried and jollof rice, salad, ofe nsala, pounded yam... I already knew how I was spending the day, as always. In the kitchen.

It was memorable.

Days later I was informed that the result from the pathology was ready and I had to go collect.

I wish it had waited, I wish I had the chance to drown in the feeling of the post Christmas celebration. I wished a lot of things.

Leaving the lab, my hands trembled as I held the report, neatly folded in a white envelope, addressed to me. My palms became sweaty. I felt a heavy sharp pain in my guts. I was scared again, I felt the same discomfort from when I examined the lump, before the surgery. I was walking out of the hospital premises, deliberating on whether or not I should open the envelope just yet.

I opened it, I couldn't bear the anxiety.

There was an observation report alongside some personal details and then there was the diagnosis. It read,

"DIAGNOSIS: INVASIVE DUCTAL CARCINOMA "

I didn't know what it meant just yet, but I didn't feel relieved either. Reading it brought this stiff and uneasy feeling. I didn't know what it was but my instincts kept leaping as if to tell me that it wasn't good.

My younger sister was home when l arrived. As a medical student and I was sure she could make better sense of the result than anyone else at home. I was eager. I wanted to know.

" Carcinoma means Cancer " she blurted out. I didn't think she considered how I would feel, or my mental state. She just gave me the information I needed.

I stood still. Gripped with fear . My unsettling feelings and discomfort were confirmed. I had been diagnosed with Breast Cancer !. I was too scared to cry, too scared to think. I just stared into space, with blank thoughts racing. It was like in the white world, except, it wasn't white this time. It was dark. Pitch black. I wanted to remove my insides and place them beside be, just for a minute or two, so i could breathe, feel light; but I couldn't. This was my body and I was stuck with it.

Somewhere in the midst of all these feelings, I hoped I was wrong. I hoped my Sister was wrong, So I forwarded the result to my Doctor and I hoped he would say it wasn't what we thought. Hoping was the only mechanism I used to cope in that moment. I immediately wanted to leave home, the environment constantly reminded me of my fears. It hurt terribly. So, I left.

All the feelings I dreaded, they all came rushing back after the call with Dr. Tama. I left home, but they left with me.

It was past 9pm. I had reached the central park of my destination, but I felt no relief . All I knew was pain and sadness. I was a shadow of myself and I can't really recall how I got home. I can't recall anything else from that night.