I woke up this morning feeling tired and weak, not wanting to get outta bed. Then I slept some more, and didn't get up till 11am. When I eventually picked up my phone to read my messages, I noticed the date. 22nd of July.
Two years ago today, I had a hip surgery. It was the day I had thought would be the last for me. It was also the day God, in his awesome glory saved me and made me believe! Its a day I always sit back and reminisce, and its also a day I wish I could forget forever. Its been two years, but its so vivid in my head. Yes, 2010 is the worst year I've ever had, but it was also my transgressing year. The year I left a part of me behind before forging ahead. The year I stopped having the fear of dying. The year my tears got dried and I comforted myself. The year I grew strong, much stronger than I ever knew I could be. That year, I learnt a lot. I learnt so much about life and existence, I learnt that I had a lot to be grateful for and I was indeed blessed. So what if I had lost a lot that year? The people that really wanted to be in my life stuck around anyway!. I lost friends, love, my sanity, my hope, and both the head of my femur.
It was on a bright thursday (@least in the hospital) and the nurses came to me; "Eyitayo, it's time" they said before handing me a theatre gown. I looked at it, and asked if we couldn't wait just a lil longer? That I wanted to see my parents before going in for the surgery. I said a short prayer, having given up hope deep inside. I prayed for my family, that HE grant them the strength to accept the loss if it went bad. I was then wheeled to the theatre...
Less than 3months before (may 2nd), I had had the right hip done by a team of medical specialists from the UK. It was my first time in the theatre, and it went perfectly. I stayed awake through the procedure, laughed and made jokes with the surgeons, chatted with the anaesthetist, and in less than 2hours I was back in my room, drowsy and hungry at the same time! In 2days, I was outta bed and on my feet exercising my leg and I was discharged on the 6th day! Days went by, and I was recovering fine... I even anticipated the second surgery, I wanted it done quickly so I could recuperate together. Unluckily for me, the doctors told me they had to give it a space of 3months. Boy! Did the 3months seem like 30years! Anyway, I was real hopeful about my condition especially since the right hip had gone so well, until the second week in june. It had seemed like an endless wait to hear from the surgeons and I had started imagining the worst. I started loosing faith, and wondering if the second surgery would go as perfect as the first or if that would be the end. In short, I had it in my head that the probability of the second surgery going perfect was 50-50, which wasn't a good probability for me. I could not get that lucky twice, or could I?
It was already past 2hours, awake, and my left leg was still being pulled. The brief shot of pain I felt jerked me awake from my thoughts, and I called the attention of the anaesthetist (different from the last) to the pain. She gave me another shot of injection through the thin tube inserted in my spine, and I went numb below once again. I looked at the time and I had to ask the surgeons (also different from the last); "is anything wrong?" And they told me everything was good, just a lil issh that was being taken care of. 2hours turned into 3 and at this point, I had gotten tired! As in, real tired. I was very weak, and all I wanted to do was rest. I just wanted to sleep and really rest for the first time in 9months! It felt so good to be pain free, if only for a few hours and I only wanted to sleep peacefully. It was the thought of my sister that kept me awake. I imagined how she would never forgive me if I went to rest. I dozed off a couple of times, but I kept waking myself up. I thought of my parents, how heart broken they would be. So, I gave myself the courage again to be strong (for them). Over 4hours went by, and the surgery was finally over. I was wheeled outta the theatre again and taken to the ICU (Intensive Care Unit).
Two years have gone by, and I'm doing very well (Alhamdulillah). I have used my smile to face the world again, and I've developed a new self confidence. I'm happily getting back some of what I lost, and building a bright future for myself. I'm happy I went through everything I did, when I did because as of today, I know deep down that I'm a much better, stronger, and more confident person than I ever was before! I am proud of being me, and I'm not ashamed to share my experience.
I was saved, given a second chance, and a purpose to live. I thank the good Lord, for keeping me alive till this day and may he continue to grant me good health as well as long life and prosperity!.
God bless you...