This time Dr Dube walked in speaking in a confidential voice. I squeezed my eyes a little more hoping it could enhance my hearing, shockingly it worked. This time around Dr Dube was suggesting I be discharged and seek medical attention from home. The bill was growing and honestly he had done everything he could. Unless it was a newly discovered disease he just couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. It was not written anywhere in his notes from medical school nor his 10 years’ experience.
He went on to say, “Look, your daughter is not meeting her mensuration dates, but we checked everywhere for the cause and we have no problem at all. She is losing blood, how, or where to I don’t know, but her blood levels are deteriorating even as we speak.”
“We thought she might have cancer cells in her blood but no, her blood is clean, not even a virus. We just don’t know how to help your daughter, because our results say there is no problem and yet physically she is deteriorating. I will run more tests on her, but I advise you to take her home, it will save you financially,” he finished off.
Dr Dube must have seen my mother’s reaction, “I am not giving up on Tendai so soon, I promise. I will be one phone call away if there’s an emergency or if you need anything at all health wise. Keep praying and be encouraged by the saints that are praying for your daughter. They pay her a visit every evening you know?”
I opened my eyes just a tiny bit and could see the sad expression on mom’s face.
“Look, I’m a doctor and I have to stick to my job with every patient, but honestly what Tendai is going through is more spiritual than physical. I mean we are Africans, and sometimes seeking help the traditional way might actually give you the answers that you need,” he whispered trying to ensure no one else besides my mother heard him.
“With all due respect, I appreciate everything you have told me so far and the advice too, but don’t you think talking about my religion and with whom to seek answers from is an over step?” she asked as she walked to the bedside putting her hand on my forehead.
“Tendai, let’s go home, you are getting discharged today,” she said as she looked at Dr Dude to prepare the paper work.
When we got home, mom walked me to my room and tucked me in beautiful floral bed sheets and an animal print blanket. Man! I had missed my bed. I really loved flowers and animal prints, white too. But after spending three months in hospital white gets too familiar. Besides I didn’t want anything that reminded me of the hospital or even the fact that I was sick.
My bed also played its part, I mean being on the same bed day in and day out wasn’t the ideal way to help me forget about my incurable sickness. Thank God for social media, especially Facebook, otherwise my life was going to be miserable, and I was going to wish for an early death.
***
Tell us: If someone close to was dreadfully ill would you leave the hospital without an explanation?