By Lechi Eke
Loud noises drowned the little hope I have left. These are the voices of my loved ones. I called them in a brief moment of panic. Now, they’re here and want to help. Everyone has an opinion, an idea of what I should do.
The doctor’s report lies on my centre table looking a bit rumpled now that everyone has taken turn in perusing it. We’ve also gone through the emotions of denial (ah aaah, this cannot be your own naa, you know how these lab people make mistakes. I’m sure they’ve exchanged someone’s re…), the doubt (it’s not possible that this is yours. Listen you have to get a second and third opinions), and the fear (someone starts weeping (why God? Why?), then reality seeps in. Miss Jemimmah Okon; HIV – POSITIVE. I have had these rashes that defied every treatment – ointment, lotion, Dustin powder and all, until our company doctor advised that I run a HIV test, “Let’s see.” Now, we’ve seen! Three different lab results returned with POSITIVE.
We have prayer points as a church-going family, none is that any of us should come with the dreaded HIV/AIDS. I have answered all their questions truthfully. No, I did not sleep with anyone. No, I did not take any injection in the recent past. No, I did not allow my pedicure/manicurist remove my cuticles with used cuticle remover. No, I did not. No, I did not.
Right now, God seems to be in a very bad light. How could He let this happen to me? I mean, I’m a good girl, if you can call me that because I’m 43 and single, not divorced or widowed, but Single with capital ‘S’, never ever engaged! My mother’s sighs and moans and facial expressions said it all. God has disappointed us.
Well, after all is said and done, we’ve arrived at the nitty gritty, treatment must commence immediately to reduce viral load lest they multiply rapidly and overwhelm my immunity or what’s left of it.
My mother knows a herbalist, but she’s quick to add that he’s not a spiritist – no incantations on the herbs! My sister-in-law has already eyed her. Next thing we’ll hear from a source who’ll beg for anonymity is, ‘she said her mother-in-law is not a true believer. She uses unorthodox medicine.”
“He’s like Dr Bamidele Ogaga, but not quite. Dr Ogaga is a nutritionist herbalist, but this doctor is a herbalist. He uses natural herbs, medicinal vegetables and roots of plants…”
Her voice trails off. Maybe she suspects that they are all the same.
My Auntie Koko suggests going to Dr Ogaga at once. According to her, he successfully treated a friend of her friend’s boss’s wife. She encourages me to go to Ogaga without delay because he’ll treat me with apples which I love or some other nice tasting fruits. She brought her new coaster bus which she uses for her business, and her driver is outside, all of us can go together to give me moral support.
My brother suggests deliverance. There’s this church where they pray loud prayers and evil spirits are invoked and cast out. Patients fall down in the process as if dead But later, they rise up healed. My elder sister does not like anything to do with evil spirits because we are Christians. She suggests that I should seek out strong men of God or go to crusades where hands can be laid on me because HlV is demonic. It is her husband who gave me a clue to what I should do. He said I should try everything. “Jemmy, don’t put all your eggs in one basket because AIDS is a killer.“ My father who is away, phoned me. He sounds a bit fluttered, his breathing laboured. He promises to pay the bills and advises me to commence treatment immediately.
When everyone has gone save my mum, I got up and moved around to see if the viral load (a new vocabulary in my life now) has weighed down on me. I feel nothing. My mother sits in her chair her eyes wide with fright.
“Jemmy, what are you going to do now?” she asks.
“I will seek help. I know a great physician.”
“But you‘ll also pray and use Dr Ogaga,” she pleads. I nodded. “Do you want me to spend the night with you?”she asks. I shook my head. My sister said that viral load increases rapidly. My mum repeats it now. I nod, wishing her to Leave.
“Where is this physician, UNTH?“ she asks.
“No, HTH,” I say.
Before she can ask where HTH is, my cell phone begins to ring. It is my eldest sister from the U.S. she is already weeping and talking.
I will not tell mum what HTH stands for. Oh, I will eventually tell them but for now, I’ll buy time. I know prayer is considered a weak thing but when my brother-in-law said, don’t put all your eggs in one basket, I knew that was what I should do.
The first night, I spent in mumbling prayer and studying the word. But I felt like I was in a dream.
I have taken money from everyone that offered it to me for the treatment. I also cleaned out my account. I lay them at the altar of God. Four weeks into my heavenly treatment, my mother discovered what I am doing and she came to my house and broke down.
“If I understand you mum,” I said, “God is impotent. But I read my Bible, the woman with the issue of blood, she sought physicians and was nothing bettered. Then king Asa in 2 Chron. 16:12 sought not God but physicians. Mum, he did not survive. I choose to seek Him. When He fails, I’ll seek earthly physicians and not until then.”
“But you said you’re using HTH?”
“Yes, mum. That’s Heaven Teaching Hospital.” My mum stretched herself on my sitting room floor, and surrendered herself to grief.
The world says don’t put all your eggs in one basket. But, that is what I have chosen to do, all my eggs in one basket called God. Drastic situations need drastic actions. I’m fully persuaded. If God fails, He has dishonored His Word! My mum’s dilated eyes say it all – it’s a dangerous stand.
To be continued next week.
