We are playing with our health

I heard a very sad story recently. I had gone to a salon to paint my nails, but it was closed, so I walked to the nearest one.

Directly opposite was a provision shop. As my nails were being painted, my mind kept drifting to the shop because of the man displaying his wares.

There was something awkward about the way he went about everything. He struggled with his oversized trousers and seemed unsure about where to place the items, constantly removing and replacing them.

Out of curiosity, I asked, “Is he new here?”

The lady looked up and said, “They’ve been around for a while. It’s just that his wife used to handle the shop. The man had another job elsewhere.”

“I see. It seems his wife didn’t come to the shop today?” I replied.

“The woman is dead,” she said and began telling me the story.

According to her, the woman was seven months pregnant with their fourth child and had gone for her antenatal check-up.

After examining her, the doctor advised that she be admitted for bed rest. But the woman promised to observe the rest at home so she could keep an eye on her young children as well. The doctor agreed and let her go.

A day or two later, she set out with her prayer group to the mountain for prayers. That was where she collapsed.

She was rushed to the hospital, but by the time they arrived, she had already slipped into a coma. The doctors operated to deliver the baby, but sadly, the baby didn’t survive. Both mother and child died on the same day.

Further details, according to the lady: Nobody knew how the man would survive his wife’s death, and the focus shifted to him rather than the children she left behind.

“Very beautiful and peaceful,” were the words with which she described the woman, who was in her 30s.

She also mentioned that the news of her passing threw the entire neighbourhood into mourning because she had been such a lovely person.

Sometimes, I think there’s something “too casual” about the way our doctors communicate the need for “bed rest,” which makes the average Nigerian argue their way out of it, often to their detriment.

Maybe, in an effort to avoid causing panic, doctors don’t always disclose the danger they see before recommending bed rest. But I believe it’s high time doctors started making people fully aware of the risks involved when bed rest instructions are ignored.

Dear Nigerians, please comply when you’re told you need bed rest. It’s not just about lying down and staring at the hospital ceiling. If it has come to that point, understand that you could be mere hours or days away from the end if care is not taken. You need to be alive and well to handle whatever it is that may be waiting for you.

I don’t know why we think God can only be found in specific places. We limit God in our minds, and it must be frustrating to Him. The Bible refers to God as “omnipresent,” meaning He is everywhere.

This lady’s story opened my eyes to what I now see as a miracle that happened a few years ago at a teaching hospital. After my vitals were taken, the doctor exclaimed that he was tempted to admit me for bed rest because my blood pressure was “disturbingly high.”

He asked my age again and remarked that I was too young for my blood pressure to be that high. I was placed on blood pressure medication immediately, and I went straight home to lie down.

It’s truly a miracle that many of us haven’t dropped dead, considering the “danger zone” our health has been in—zones we either don’t acknowledge or are in denial about.

At least this lady received a warning before making her own decision.

My elder sister wasn’t that lucky in 1994. She was also seven months pregnant with her first baby. She stopped by the hospital for a doctor’s appointment on her way from work. The doctor immediately placed her on bed rest, and she obeyed.

Unfortunately, within hours, she slipped into a coma. She had to be operated on to try and save the baby, but the baby—a girl—who was placed in an incubator, died five hours after the mother passed away.

That was how my family lost a strong pillar. That was how I lost my favourite human being in this world.

My sister was sunshine, always brightening the lives of those around her.