Wholesome
Sally Bonn-Ohiaeriaku
©
Copyright 2024 by Sally Bonn-Ohiaeriaku
|
Photo courtesy of the author. |
I
ran into her at the hospital and I could see the loss of her husband
affected her greatly. Grief was so unkind to her that a month after
his funeral,
she became a patient at the University of Nigeria Teaching Hospital
(UNTH) in Enugu state. Her children were abroad and she needed a
caregiver. She was my best friend so I chose to do it.
I
moved into her home and we found solace in ourselves. I could not
help but notice the deterioration of her health.
One
day in the dead of the night, I felt a grip on my nightwear. I
thought my dream had metamorphosed into reality. I jerked back to
reality. Call the Doctor she said as she took in big breaths. I
searched for my phone and rang her doctor. He picked up after the
third ring and asked that we come
quickly to the hospital as he was on Night shift. Dr Ugo had
prescribed some medications for her the last time he saw her but he
warned her of the downside of the medications. The side effects could
cause more harm if not properly managed and I think the drugs were
doing just that.
We
have a deeply rooted systemic healthcare challenge in Nigeria. There
are next to no available ambulances. Ignore what you watch on
Nollywood. We left for the hospital in our car. Luckily for us, the
driver lived in the boys' quarters. She administered first aid to
herself. She was a retired nurse after all. On the way to the
hospital, my special demons as I called them appeared. They had their
names because most times we sat and discussed. “You are going
to lose her too” they taunted me as they danced. These alien
friends of mine were being mischievous. I was not going to let my
hallucinations get the better of me. I screamed as my body shrieked.
This time I had an audience. I was jolted back to reality by a big
slap on my back. The fear in her eyes as she asked how long this had
been going on. I shook my head because I could not utter a word. I
crouched at one corner of the car. In my vulnerability, I found
unexpected strength in her embrace. There was a decline in my mental
health which was why I was at the hospital the day I ran into her,
seeking answers for myself. You must see a psychologist she
whispered. She was whole for a moment. It was as if my episode had
healed her. I thought I was the stronger one but even strong people
break down too. I the caregiver needed care.
After
her doctor was done with his check-up, he referred me to a
psychologist and her to a therapist. The dosage of her medications
was reduced. She asked if that would reduce her symptoms and he said
we must hope for the best. I knew I needed to see a mental health
expert, but it was not a topic discussed in most homes on this side
of the world. Good health is not only the absence of physical disease
and a complete state of mental well-being. Stigmas tied to mental
health in our Nigerian communities make it hard for people to access
these professionals. We need to build healthy communities and make it
accessible to all. I knew that I could not be strong for others if I
was not well mentally. Anxiety and depression cannot be filed away to
be dealt with another day. In therapy, I realized
that I was affected by her husband’s death and the way he died.
The psychologist helped us
to understand this.
He
was very sick but not for too long, he did all the tests UNTH could
offer yet there was no concrete diagnosis. He died without knowing
his ailment. I was present with her. After his death, the doctors
said he had a neurotic disease and called it a fancy name I could not
remember. On his death certificate, he was declared to have died of a
different disease. The health care services in this part of the
world, you just have to wish and pray to not be a statistic of the
many medical researchers conducted by international and local health
organizations
while hoping for the best miracle possible.
When
we returned home, she threw all her medications and chose the
traditional medicine path. We explored alternative treatment options,
shifting towards a holistic approach. She booked her first session
with the therapist and has been going ever since. There was a big
change in our diet. I was concerned at first but she is better and
healthier. During joint therapy sessions, they claimed grief took a
toll on us and we had “sympathy death syndrome” another
fancy phrase but this one I could remember because of the bond we
shared with the deceased. There is an all-round great improvement in
our bodies and mind.
One
Sunday evening, we pondered if she was misdiagnosed just like the
deceased was. The brain drain as a result of emigration due to the
poor economy and political situation in the country has taken the
best of the Nigerian doctors. I saw my therapist regularly because I
could afford it even though expensive. I joined forces with like
minds to create an accessible community of mental health experts and
supported where I could. I preached mental health awareness every
day. There should be no stigmas attached to health.
Another
anniversary of his death and the children returned from abroad. They
complimented us that we looked fine if they only knew what we went
through but for our determination and perseverance. It was not easy
but we did it and are happy and healthier for it.
Notes:
Nollywood: The
Nigerian movie industry is just like Hollywood is to the USA
Boys
quarters in
Nigerian parlance is where guests who are not part of the family
live. It is different from the main building
Sally Bonn-Ohiaeriaku is an Igbo, Nigerian. She is deeply passionate
about art particularly writing, poetry and photography. Her non
fiction work “Disruption” appears on The
Manifest-Station.net and her poem “Breaking the Cycle (
Escaping abuse)” on Discourse Literary Journal. She loves to
volunteer with NGOs in her community in her spare time.
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