Randomly Accessed Memories Series
“the pain is too much, please tell them to stop it”
“don’t worry it will stop”
“please just tell them, maybe they can make it stop now, I promise to buy you sweets after”
“don’t worry Naza, it will stop soon”
Ifeoma said, winning this round with Chinaza, whilst holding back tears and tucking her in with the blanket provided for patients on admission. These arguments weren’t getting any easier for her, this morning proved that.
Tactfully placing my leave from work around Christmas so I’d be away for the holidays was the smartest thing I did this year. As it was the 16th already, I was counting down patiently. We were having general ward rounds and I was tidying up my presentation for the consultants whilst running through the recent results of our patients on the ward. It was Chinaza’s turn. Late detection and bad prognosis go hand in hand when dealing with cervical cancer, she was at stage 4.
She had taken her recent dose of radiotherapy and her last chemo episode was two days back; she wasn’t due for another till January. She had a truck load of pain meds but was always still in pain. I was considering switching it up again, but I had to run it through the consultant first.
Ifeoma was a ghost of her past self, the chemo, the cancer, both had taken a toll on her. I sat on some evenings before I started my evening rounds to discuss with her younger sister Chinaza. Chinaza showed me pictures of the both of them growing up. She told me stories too. How Ifeoma stepped up when her dad died and mom lost herself to drugs and had to be checked into rehab. Ifeoma was her hero, Ifeoma did all she could to get them both through school and by all I mean, every job she could find. The ones that meant working overtime at restaurants, or between the sheets with random men. Anything went so they could eat and go to school.
She told me stories of their adventures travelling across the country with some extra cash after the essentials were dealt with. She told me stories of how wonderful a singer and dancer her sister was. She loved to talk about the sweets she always got at the train station. She spoke with a light in her eyes before she realized her sister’s current condition, their current condition. Ifeoma made sure she never had to work, made sure she married a good man, made sure she was happy before considering herself. She did everything needed to that effect. Until she got the call.
“Naza can you drive me home, I’m in the hospital”
Everything changed thereafter.
Two weeks after celebrating her 51st birthday, she was in the hospital for some weird bleeding she noticed after sex. She had stopped seeing her period two years back, so she knew that a trip to the hospital was the next thing, but this knowledge came a little too late after several attempts at “enduring the bleeding”. It was just blood after all, maybe her period was coming back. After several tests, she was told about cervical cancer and how late hers was picked up. She was told how surgery was off the table as it was picked in other places in her body already. Like Murphy’s law, other places started acting up. Especially her back.
The pain came to stay, and grew like an unwanted pregnancy without the option of abortion. It made her delirious. She spoke to her sister as though they were much younger. She did enjoy the nostalgic tone, but at this time, it was torture.
Most days, Ifeoma begged for the pain to end. Most days like today, the pain ran its course amidst the heavy medication against it. Most days, Chinaza stayed there helpless, trying and failing to comfort the mother she had found in her big sister. Most days, I wasn’t sure how much of this sight I could take. But every day, I would come to her bedside, discuss with them both of random things and laugh and just feel a bit better about work, I say both on days she can tolerate the pain. On days she can’t, I stand there, trying my best to be a support for Chinaza. God knows she needs that. Today, like some days, I stood uttering a silent prayer for them both.
Get screened today for cervical cancer if you’re a woman. Tell others. Save a life today.
