The Darker, The Shader

EPIVERSE
It is highly imperative to adhere strictly to the rules and regulations in this text... After a brush over of forensic and journalistic criticisms, an explosive experience is here published as The Darker, The Shader.
This piece has undergone counter-free and counter-filled surveyings after thirst of narrative convergence but highly placed artistic overview.

PREFACE
The terms and conditions for writing, and rewriting the broken pitchers, that have gathered to become writing, have over the time pulled wrong answers from questionnaires, due to the fact that the business of writing has gone lazy. However, it is not a crime to have good letters gather to become a good text.
If arts will retain its cultural respect everywhere in the world, no two people must gather to shape and reshape it. Thus, creativity is, writing freely, the exposures of one's thoughts which passes lots of messages to its members of audience.
It has moreover, been stated by several authors who have had a mouthful of what arts taste. That is, they have full control over the shreds of threads that are gathered to become the full experience, appreciated through arts and by arts.
With the crafts crafted by writers, joining the submissions of writers is good, but not good enough. it is also imperative for creative thinkers to separate from the writers. This means that there is a point where convergence and divergence take place during writing: the point is the surface from which one should align.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
All rights reserved in showering praises to the Almighty for making this possible.
The work of completing this text was aided by warmth and hospitality from my Family. The care and support given were really instrumental in defeating the thoughts of not writing.
This work is highly powered by fleshes of fresh inspiration, together with well knitted motivation, grounded by well developed provisions, from seedlings of well fertilized allocation, which kills the thirst of being lazy: Lewbreeze.

DEDICATION
This piece is dedicated to the conduit of my essence; Mrs. Mary Bola Oyeleke.

TABLE OF CONTENT
Epiverse
Preface
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Table of Content
Part one: The Beginning
Part two: The Dream
Part three: My Dream
Part four: My End
Insertations

PART ONE: THE BEGINNING

Laying face up on my four by six metal bed, with spring base and flat mattress worn with constant and multiple use plus an accompanied flat pillow; I could distinctively hear the PSH customized clock as it tick-tock. The mattress went down a little to support my not so weighty weight. This showed that it had left its former glory for that. Everything around here seemed beaten with age and overuse, but the sparkling cleanliness with which they were kept can be, but overemphasized. The floor tiles, as the forehead of barhead; appeared shining as if constantly being polished. I am sure it would not be better when it was newly purchased, sake the original colour that has now faded to sky blue; from a darker shade of blue, I presume.
Not only are the material things: tiles, curtain, mattress, and others worn out with over use, the nurses and other domestic staff members were not left out of this perpetual state of eternal overwork. The scent of antiseptic clings to everything and everyone present here, even if one had only come for visitation. After about a week of constant visits, the waft from my father had begun accompanying the default smell here. This is not any different from the smell my mother had borne for all the years I have known her.
Mrs. Fadekemi, known simply as nurse Fade seemed to be the only one here with a special scent. It is different from all others I have had contact with here, yet similar to one in my memory. I wonder why and how that memory would elude me when it is most needed; trying to revolt? I think not. She wears Explore perfume originally; the continuous baptism of antiseptic has created an unholy matrimony between these two with neither of them being dominant over the other. It created this, this... She just has this different smell you could not place a finger on. You just know it is there, different, and sweet.
P.S.H: The Paediatrics Specialist Hospital here in the busy city of Lagos had been my home for a long while now. There is no telling the extent to what a man can take. Yes a man, when I say a man, I mean a man; me. Never look down on a man you know? That I am fourteen years of age did not stop me from been a man I want to be. Oh, I will be fifteen in a few days; can I not be called a man already? 'I, descendant of a hunter chieftain. The raging inferno which consumes the ocean: ruler of the nightwalkers. The creature that calmly steps into the lion's den; making it desolate, leaving only an offspring, to tell the tale of the once gallant pride that met its ultimate end, at the hand of no mortal. The hell, which terrifies Ajanaku the great, and Eere; ejo afayafa'.
If you think I did well with the ancestral eulogy despite having lived all my life in the city, then indeed, some accolades are to be accorded to my mother. For it is a well deserved one. It was her, who took it upon herself to include history, and cultural education to the curriculum of the home education which she oversees. Speaking of which, my mother is actually a nurse in the same hospital where has since become my home for God knows how long.
My parents are a wonderful pair, 'a match made in heaven', every other person watching from afar with the spectacles of the society will say. It is not that I differ in opinion, I just see things differently. With the woman of the house; the iron lady herself a nurse at paediatrics special hospital (she must have be employed either to scare those poor souls to take their medications seriously when she is in the mood, or to coax them when she is otherwise). My father on the other hand is a practising building contractor who happens to be the stark opposite of his wife. They really do attract; opposite. He worries a lot, and does that for the whole family. I have yet to reach an actual conclusion with him, all you need to do is inform him of a situation and 'gbam', you can then cast all your worries on him. That, for his broad shoulders can bear much more; but for his frail heart, I cannot answer. A well thought plan is easily hatched; it is always like that with him. This quality of his made him a meticulous person especially as a builder; which he takes very seriously. Against all odds, we are a comfortably settled family; no extravagance, at the same time, we are able to make ends meet and of course, no room for any crazy indulgence. 'If it is not a necessity, it not to be got' that is an unspoken rule in the house.
You! Hold it right there! You cannot get too familiar with me. To get unnecessary attachments and sentiments; those bollywood is great at depicting will only lead to tears. We just met, and the introduction should be kept at acquaintance level. Well, I still need to let you know about me even if it is 'something light'. I am fourteen years old, and I have something someone of my age cannot easily bear, especially in this part of the world; where nothing seems to work. My life, I mean my whole life is laid out right before my thinning and sweaty eyes.
Do not get me wrong, I am not crying; men they say do not cry, but weep. Only weaker vessels cry, wail, scream and you know... My eyes are only sweaty as the shadow cast. When one is said to be the shadow of what one used to be, only one person comes to mind; me. It is not at all a charade to evoke pity, It is in fact nothing but the truth; my weakness. That is exactly what I am now, quite the direct opposite of what I used to be. It is not that it cannot be accepted, but truth be told, the size of this cross is just too enormous for my frail shoulders. In all honesty, I wish it had never been. You are right, that is just wishful thinking. I knew that immediately I had a strong feeling; this had to be done, and it outweighed my fears and pains.
Having heard severally that people with cancer go through a lot of things, sound distant. That is what I could never relate with, but not anymore. The whole idea, as much as I could ever think of, is in movies; Hollywood and their Indian counterparts, Bollywood doing their thing. This is not a story which playwright worth his salt will write to take place in Nigeria using me as the major character. No matter how cruel s/he is, s/he should not pick me right? What is this? Igewood, two thousand and fifteen presents, drum roll... Cancer is a rich man's disease; at least that is a popular opinion here in my country. Now, not only did I contract what is way above my parent's payroll, I also chose to do that at my age without a payroll to show for the successful contract. Who would be so callous to do this to a child erm, erm, a young man? I had never been to the airport in another country; so, how do we go about this? Where exactly do we start from?
Well, I know you will like to get the gist from the beginning. 'Both positive and negative energies must co-exist, side by side, to maintain the balance in the universe.' (Do not even think for once that I thought of that. That is just one of the numerous quote from silent sage, that I thought will make my words more sophisticated. I am an ardent fan of his; so, do not be jealous). If that is the case, my life cannot be all tragedy from the beginning till end. Like every normal person, I have equally enjoyed the bliss of life. I will like for you to get a little dose of my life, before everything went down the hill like Jack, and not Jill, to plateau in the valley before plunging headfirst in a nosedive down the abyss of...
Living in a building somewhere in the city that houses more rooms than hair on a maiden; my father's masterpiece and pride, my father made a house for my mother; to make a home. The house is always filled with joy, how else will it be with a little family? Since I decided to suck all the egg in my mother, I sealed my own fate of forever being sibling-less. Apart from the domestic chores that I am more than willing to take part in, I am mostly left to my own device. When I was first introduced to this at age six, I felt it was all fun. My parent friends never agree with me on anything, they think it is irresponsible of my own loving parents to expose me to washing my own play-clothes, and doing the dishes at such a young age.
I am not trying to present myself a saint, or more responsible than children of my age because I definitely am not, and it will do me no good. I am only speaking the truth; at six, getting to play with soapy water as in washing my clothes, and doing something different in the dishes other than eating from them was really fun time for me. It is all thanks to the combination of my parents genes making me hyper-active as a kid with extra dose of adrenaline than an average child of my age. Where else will those energies be spent without causing mischief for the family?
My classmates call me strange; my teachers think that I am too inquisitive (overheard that in my parent's telephone conversation with my school teacher); my parent know me to be wise for my age; my friend's parents refer to me as overconfident who do not know when to stop. Those opinions are theirs; I am the only one who think I am all they say about me, and much more than they can ever imagine. I am just different. In reality, I do not see anything special about myself except for the fact that I see things differently, perceive them differently, process them differently thereby arriving at a different conclusion from a normal person. So, I am obviously not.
Like every human, my childhood was interjected by couple of events. How those little issues escalated to the point of getting my parent involved, as it seemed in most cases cannot but baffle me. One minute, it is two usual kids involved, and before long, things have gotten out of hand, to the point of UN intervention, with only a usual child there. Like once, when I asked an eighty-five year old great-grandma; our neighbour, if she worked in a block production industry when she was much younger.
Hey! I was six, and she was always shaking like one whose hands are about to fall off her body. She was just like one of those guys at oladipupo block industry very close to Pa. Adigun's mechanic workshop. When I go with either or both of my parents to get their car(s) fixed or serviced, I see the guys operating the block making machine shaking exactly like mama agbaa usually did. How was I supposed to know that she was suffering from stroke? I had thought that mama did not hear my question so, I asked again but this time, louder while moving closer to the house. It was not until one of her great grandsons who is a few years older than I am landed a heavy punch on my face which squashed my 2.0 magnifying glasses along with my nose, that I knew things were not as easy as I thought.
What have I done to deserve this outright cruelty? I inquire the reason for his hostility, when all I did was asked a question. Well, my questions to the lad sounded like I was playing a symphony for the deaf, because the reply I got was another punch. Oh, such a pain, so much pain because the matter never ended there. Having being a bad boy, he went back inside his house with a bump, the size if a baby fist on his forehead; courtesy, my toy.
My mother will have none of it when she returned from work, and my father who was at home at the time of the accident gave her the edited account of the story. My question; the genesis of the whole issue was edited out of the account for the reason best known to my father. I got the greatest lecture of my life on being responsible that day. That lecture came to haunt me thereafter for several days to come, until it became a passing fancy. 'will a responsible child of God ever fight?' she had asked fuming like she was about to spit fire 'I did not fight' I cried in self-defence 'I only asked a question, he punched me and I did not even hit him back ooh. I just waved my hand and he held unto his head and started crying.' 'Never you interrupt me again young man. Now listen, fighting will only lead to pain and loss of properties. We will need to replace your eye glasses and toy, as well as foot the bill for that poor boy's treatment. Even if I am a nurse, I do not own a hospital' She started as a fire spitting dragon and ended like a preacher man, oh it should be preacher woman in this case, right? You cannot move ahead of your future; do not even think her lectures ended that quickly. On and on she went on with it, that I wondered what else to eat. 'Huuuhn', it was such a torture, and such is my life.
Such was my life, getting lectures on responsibilities at a very tender age of six. It is only natural that I got matured before the average age of maturity; as measured in other kids, and that was exactly how I grew. How exactly?_ being overly calculative in everything I did, including time spent on games. Gradually, the once hyperactive lad became an introvert because nothing my peers did seemed to interest me, other than got me in trouble. All their thoughts and ideas, to me, were too childish. Since only I tend to understand me so, I kept away from others. My condition cannot be defined as autistic; I just love being a lone wolf.
It was that strange dream, it was that dream that visited my sleep on the day of my ninth birthday; it changed everything. My sanity was only hanging by a thread until the last straw that broke the camel's back, broke through it too. So bizarre was the dream that everything I saw in there looks real and, at the same time ethereal. To put it accurately, it is more proper for it to be called a memory than a dream. Why on earth would I have a memory of buildings that looked like the blend of ancient Roman and Chinese buildings? If the movie makers ever added a shred of sincerity in their productions, my description would have hit the bull's eye. When I saw the look on my father's face as I described the buildings, and others contained in the isolated memory, I knew it was what I would rather die, than share with another soul. While he explained the reason such dream wlll invade my alternate consciousness, I immediately agreed with his conjecture. 'Those movies produced these days' he had begun, 'they are sooo well produced that one would almost mistake them for reality. You are not experienced when it comes to movies, so you might mix those graphics for reality. Do not ever make that mistake, movies and real life events are different.' Like an experienced sage who had only given a drop of his wisdom; as ocean, he smiled. I thought my father was more intelligent than that, what happened to him, where did his intelligence drift to? I acted along, as I nodded my head in conformity. There and then, I realised that some things will indeed never be answered. So, in order not to accidentally spill what will make my visit to the left wing of Yaba inevitable, I quickly retreated the solace of my mind into my shell.
Alright, enough of my unpalatable childhood; it only reminds me of the bitter taste which to get others understand you brought to my mouth. It was not until I learnt the hard way that I evolved: keep to yourself; it pays.
Uncle Dare; my paternal uncle whom I only got to know a few years ago had called my father to invite me to his first son's birthday party at Abuja. As the sole heir to the Dare-Ige enterprise, it is only natural that his tenth birthday party is the talk of the town. That I am sure, is the beginning of big things uncle will do for my younger cousin. Three fairies have graced the Ige family before the arrival of Alex. His elder siblings: Alexia, Beckey and Linda are twenty, eighteen and fourteen years respectively. He is sure a fast tracker as he had started making babies long before his older brother: my father. Fast enough for his third child to have been born the same year this special specie decided to grace this blue marble. I did not know much about the family, except that they reside in Abuja, where my uncle operates a big business.
I did not grow up knowing the family, probably because my father was in rancour with his siblings. I presume this from the conversations they had on the telephone, which only started changing, a few years prior. It was not until then, when my uncle decided to change status quo by putting the first leg forward in a visit to visit us. I just turned fourteen years of age a few weeks before the invitation. That is not the only thing I did for the rite of passage, I had just concluded my WAEC examination as well. With having just been a man, uncle Dare called my parent to invite me to Abuja for Alex's birthday party. Although I had not always been a party person, but I had to faithfully imitate Isaac now, to the altar of sacrifice. That is plus the fact that I really wanted to go that time. I felt that I was no longer the kid I used to be, it is necessary that I got acquainted with my cousins, and on a deeper level of familiar relationship, the way it ought to be, not the way my parent defined theirs. Of course, getting to know other places is equally a reason the voyage must be made.
One whole weekend at Abuja with a clingy cousin brother, two lovely guardians and three adorable beauties equalled the best; only real birthday party I have ever attended. So intoxicating was it that I was reluctant to return home to Lagos. Hmmn 'everything must surely come to an end, since it is got a beginning. No matter how interesting a journey is, home is the point of rest' the words of a Yoruba movie character -Adio, came to mind as I said my goodbyes at the bus park. Those words are pack full with the wisdoms of my ancestors. With the sceneries reeling quickly behind me in accordance with the speed of the bus, not only did I leave the city and my cousins behind, I equally left all the fun I had behind. Worst still, I had left behind my life as I had always known it.
I returned home with several gifts from my extended family members who were also present at the historic rendezvous. This is a first of its kind event for our generation, with children of the main and sub-branches of the family present under the same roof. Did Uncle Dare really obliged his son by gifting him a grand birthday party, or did he do all those in order to remedy the dangerous tumour, their generation had allow put a wedge among them? He probably saw little hope with them and decided to set things right with us; the children. That is an honourable cause, or do you think he has a motive other than that?
Beautiful things gets better when used, and I would not be a part with those who leave good stuffs in their concealed fancy wrappers. So, I unwrapped my gifts as soon as I got back home. There was also an unknown gift, given to me by nature which I unwrapped much later than others; since I was not aware of its presence. Few days after I returned from my journey to Abuja, I mysteriously had red spots all over my body. The nurse in my mother which saw an opportunity to shine, quickly kicked in as she declared me clean after examination. 'Babe, it is a simple reactions of your body to the sudden change in environment.' Her voice and words only worked together as the soothing balm to my soul. Up next, I felt sudden weakness all over my body, my body parts were heavier than those of an elephant's. I laughed at my folly as I thought of the fun I had. With so much stress I put myself through, how more tired than that could my body be.
Those were just icing on the cake you know? Following the last condition, I took pain relief and antibiotics to soothe the pain and itch, but that only made it worse. The red spots did not clear after three days as my mother has previously promised, they only became more prominent. The army of pain that were deployed all over my body, had a drastic change in their formation; they were all redirected to my joints armed to the teeth with better weapons. Those soldiers soon had reinforcements from mouth ulcer, and sudden fatigue arriving in full force which cannot be masked in an energetic boy; erm, man.
I, unable to understand what was happening to me and ironically, so were the practitioners unable to decide that as well. My mother insisted I followed her to her place of work so that her colleagues can help determine the nature of my predicament. It definitely is a predicament as the pain in my joints were nothing but difficult to bear. It came with reinforcements every now and then, and in quick successions. All I got was a couple of injections, and medicines before being sent home with my mother, at the close of her morning duty shift later that afternoon.
Barely three months after I made a journey to Abuja, I had made several rounds to PSH. Not out of my own volition, but the coercion of one stronger than I. The latest visit to the place was different from the previous visitations. I stayed longer than other times; all thanks to the hostile take over of my body by a bandit. With acute weight loss, and unending infections, one after the other; then, I appeared to be a shadow of my former self. It was not until my body refused to yield to the baptism of Orthodox medicines that I came to the realization that my ailment was beyond the aftermath of my visitation to my cousins, it was much more.
Abuja or not, this would have happened anyways. I was not alone with that conjecture, my parents and the doctors belief same. Series of tests were conducted, blood samples were taken to God knows where, for God knows what, I was taken to different labs where I sat before and inside several medical facilities for God knows why. Back I was wheeled to the ward waiting for the test results that would be ready God knows when. All in all, for some days, my body belonged solely to the hospital to do as it deem fit. I could not stand, not to talk of walk on my own, all I wanted there and then,was for the pains to go away which the nurses and doctors promised they can do; so, what if my body was seen or even touched by God knows who?
'High gee' nurse Fade called, as she walked into my ward with a younger nurse pushing a trolley behind her. The way she pronounces the letters 'I' and 'G' sounds special to me; I can never get used to her calling me by my nickname. 'We are still trying to determine the cause of your illness, but not to worry; everything will be alright.' I only nodded my head as she spoke with her signature face tattoo -a big smile. 'We have the best facilities and doctors in the country, plus we have your mother; what can possibly go wrong?' she asked, still convinced she could infect me with her carefree attitude; as it must have worked wonders several times to make others forget their sorrows. It is quite unfortunate that it was me that time, and in that condition. It would have worked perfectly fine on me as well had the pains that threatens to wreck my body not been there. A little smile was all I could muster at that point, at least to encourage her for a job well done.
I knew most nurses, especially in this part of the world, are not fit to be named among professionals. They treat their patients as if they were the major culprit of their ancestral grave theft. They would refuse to give answers to questions properly, and handled their patients roughly. Government hospitals are the worst ones of the lot, their sanity is costlier there. The fear of government hospital nurses, is the beginning of healing. Some people will rather die at home than visit a place where you would be treated as if being sick is your own fault.
The younger nurse looked strangely at me as if studying a specimen. I cannot but wonder if she had had enough specimens to study, so she does not make me one. As if reading my thoughts from the look in my eyes, nurse Fade introduced the younger nurse as a new trainee nurse attached to her. My fears were allayed with the understanding that my care is not changing hands. 'High gee, I will turn you over as I need to stick this needle to the back of your hip, it will only be for a couple of minutes you know?' she said as she showed me a tinny cold weapon of clinical destruction, attached to the biggest syringe I have ever seen. I only gave her a low 'okay', after which she continued with, 'not to worry, I wouldn't give you any more pain than you already have'.
With her saying it like that, I knew a form of anaesthetics will be used to numb the area which the needle will be inserted. Even if she would make use of none, I would still be numb to the norm. True to her words, except for a little uncomfortable feeling, there truly were no pains. For the next twenty or so minutes; I quietly lay on my belly while nurse Fade did her thing on my back hip. At first I felt nothing, until I felt I could not feel anything from my waist down to my feet.
The needle was removed at last while she passed it to the younger nurse. She herself tended to erm; dressed my erm. The younger nurse quickly injected the content of the syringe into a test tube, as if conscious that exposing it will void the result of the test. Well, not fast enough for my eagle eye. Although inverted; I saw from the corner of my eye, a reddish brown substance being injected into the tube. The tube was then kept in another glass container, filled with a clear watery substance. Another dinner to be fed by the microscope, I guess. Several heads will spend several minutes, hours, even days, searching for where the anomaly lies, and debating what those anomalies signify before a verdict is ruled either in mine or the anomaly's favour.
This is a different test from what I previously had, so I guess the result will be different as well. 'You will get to see more of Tina', nurse Fade began after placing everything she brought back to their place in the tray balanced on the trolley. 'So, do not treat her with the same level of disrespect you do me', she jokingly teased me, while walking out as she came in; slithering.
When I saw Dr. Duke with my parents having a secret conversation just outside ward 18c through the see-through glass on the door, I knew something dreadful was to happen to me. My father always chants 'women are the weaker vessels son, and after several millennia, the weakness they exhibited in Eden, is yet hidden to change'. That might be the case in most homes, but not my family. We all know who the weakest vessel is. The dread I spoke of, was discovered in my father's eyes. My surmise once again proved to be correct when both of my parents came into my ward. What my parents outlined on their faces were contrast one from the other. It was quite surprising that with the electricity cracking in the air, I could still be sensitive to facial expressions. While my father had his face reeking with fear, concern and pity, my mother's eyes were boring into the very depth of my soul. Just like a professional appraiser looking at an artefact to infer its value, she looked at me with acute scrutiny. Nothing more; nothing less.
'You have leukaemia babe', my mother finally decided to bell the cat since my father did not posses the ball to bear the pussy. He just stood there, opening his mouth and closing it without any utterance reaching my ears. 'And it is said to be the acute and stubborn one. It is called Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. You know it now? Let's just say it is a kind of blood cancer', she finally kept quiet to let her words sink in.
Of course I am not an idiot; I know what leukaemia means without my mother trying to break it down for my mashed brain to comprehend. No matter how hard my father tried to put his emotions under control, his eyes still betrayed him. At last, the weak nature of men which pushed them to always seek refuge and comfort in the bosom of women (first as babies and later as men), finally was made manifest in him. Could he be blamed?
I knew something terribly bad was happening to me, which was changing the entire structure of my body on a cellular level. The pain in my joints; like the rampage of the galactic invaders, unending infections; like water from a broken dam, spots; like the skin of a red spotted leopard, occasional nose bleed; of no predetermined origin, prolonged fatigue; like an overworked ole bull, chronic mouth ulcer; that place eating ahead of rocket science in the order of difficulty and then, another one was added to it, cancer. Wait! What blood cancer? What! I actually was not prepared for that. I was badly hit with that revelation that I became numb to everything all of a sudden; my brain cells ceased operations, one neural failure after another. Was it my brain being un-filial to me by sending the wrong instructions to my body parts or did all parts of my body decide to choose the same day and time to revolt?
I did not know how long I was in daze; it felt like days. I was lost in, and to myself, I felt my head sinking into my neck and body. The next moment, I felt so light that ward 18c became a place with zero gravity; it seemed I was the only one affected. The whole world was spinning around me, before finally crashing down hard on me. I did not in the least pass out, yes, you guessed right; it is nothing but a wish I had. It all felt more real than the figment of my imagination. The pain I felt was stronger than any I have ever felt before in the past six months, it is in my head and not my joints. It is, it is just inexplicable.
My dreams and hopes were crushed, and sunk into the bottom of the Atlantic. This, even before I could wake from the dream to bring it to reality. My future, I saw drifting away from right before my eyes, like leaves on a cool evening; slowly but surely. Everything around me lost colour, as I cannot even see my own fingers in the pitch darkness that assailed me. As I was trying to train my eyes to get used to the darkness, a bright light hit my eyes so hard that it felt as if I was staring directly at the sun. Just like a merry go round, I felt something a moment, and the stark opposite of it the next moment. I blinked in quick succession to keep the light out of my eyes. Who did I intend to fool? It is the salty, watery substance that blurred my eyes without my consent, that was what I instinctively blinked to keep out. It eventually dripped through my cheek, down my chin.
If you saw the pitiful state I was on the bed that day, I cannot but wonder what would have crossed your mind. I sat with my back to the pillow, as I stared into space seeing no one yet, my parents were sitting right before me. They tried to explain my condition to me, but I could not comprehend. Though I was present in the world, I was absent from the world; I can be seen, but I cannot see. I felt what I had never felt in the fourteen years I have live, 'but why did it feel so familiar?'_I had asked myself. I had the same feeling when mama agbaa eventually perished, yes that is it. I felt DEATH: 'the conqueror of all men, the fear of kings and subjects alike, the bane of all brave men, the common enemy of all humans, irrespective of status. The pride hell boasts here on earth'. I cannot believe I still have the heart to quote silent sage at that moment. Believe me when I tell you that instance, I felt its bloody eyes staring straight at me, before snatching my life away from my grasp and tossing it far away, from any known world not to be seen again. I felt it; the feeling was so real.
How long my parent stayed with me before they eventually left me to my own world, I did not know. But by the time my body system rebooted to end its hibernation, it was almost dawn. I looked at the dinner placed on the bedside table before me, I knew my parents stayed late into the night before leaving for home. Looking at the food, it did not just feel right, I was not repulsed or angry, I was not sad or scared; everything did not just feel right. I sat on my bed for a while before I decided to lay on my back in order to reduce the pressure placed on my spine. So I laid, staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular, till the sluggard resumed his diurnal patrol.
By the time the sun returned to the horizon from its nap, I felt completely different from the me of the previous day. The me of the new day had received a total makeover, this got me scared. When my mother came into my ward, with the feeling of indifferent to the guy wrecking my immune system that I projected; she feared I had sunk into despair. 'Move on from your problems, you cannot let them weigh you down', this a cliche string usually waved by motivational speakers. Even if I believed everything they say as a cleric would the holy book, the speed and ease with which I moved on is so unprecedented that it not only got my mother scared, even I did not understand. It was the second dramatic change I felt from within without reasons.
'It is only cancer' I had told myself repeatedly 'and it cannot be stronger than I am'. We, the melanin nations are known for the strength the Creator deposited in us. It is either for the sake of the special love accorded us, or to make up for something else he gave others; but not us, I guess we were meant to never know that intent. Emotionally, we had been gifted an adaptive feature that remained unmatched by any other. Why not put the free gift of the Creator to good use instead of whining all day long; it would have nothing fixed. Still, that left my situation unexplained.
There is more than meets the eye, with my behaviour; you would agree. There is something on a deeper level, which I cannot place my fingers on, and it is a cause of worry to me. Although the way I thoughts previously was different from my peers; maybe a little above my age, It still did not explain the drastic detachment to my illness. It is this place between my brows again. Each time I feel warmth on my temple, my disposition is further altered. It is all since that dream no one will believe I ever had. That was when I changed, but my initial abnormal conducts prevented others from that realization. Even my mother was fooled; who could claim to understand me any better?
One better understands the cause of one's predicament, or if push comes to shove; death. If one's days are numbered, I think getting to know the cause of such unnatural phenomenon, is beyond a blessing, it is an honour. Getting nurse Fade to explain some things on leukaemia to me was not at all a Herculean task. My charm and soft nature even endeared me to a pretty slim full figured married female nurse. Maybe it was not my charm working all along, it might have just been the motherly instinct of pity to a suffering child, erm, erm man. Probably it is because she works together with my mother. Who knows? It was not my stupidity that prevented me from understanding leukaemia, thereby seeking knowledge, I just felt the need to get my mind occupied for a while. For the big guy to have chosen me as its vessel, it first knew and understood me. So, it is only natural to reciprocate that 'goodwill'
The big guy does not just want to attack me, but mount an attack on my only defense system. It hinders the body's ability to fight against infection. It operates in the manner of: 'I won't touch you, but will allow others lay their hands on you, while I hold your hands back'. It is that type of sickness. This is so cruel, brother; at least let's have a tussle on an equal footing. Why the handicap? Why did you prevent me from fighting back? You made me incapable of self defense; such a cheat. 'Know thy enemy, and defeating him will only be a matter of time' is that claim always true? Anyways, I decided to drink from the spring of yester-years.
From the lectures I heard from nurse Fade and Dr. Duke, I understood that there are about a hundred thousand cases of cancer annually in this country of ours. That is a whopping one hundred thousand people going through these agonizing times; walking dead. In a country of about two hundred million people, that did not seemed much at first glance. But considering that, this is the statistics of those that had been successfully diagnosed in the hospital; then this is beyond a high figure. Most people suffering from leukaemia here must have died before knowing what sent them on errand to king Yama. Since some patients have slow growing types which do not have any visible symptoms, it is difficult to tell how many people are suffering and smiling, due to ignorance of their medical conditions.
The most vital part of the whole lecture was when I heard that leukaemia can be treated by professional oncologists. In fact, there are varieties of treatment and medications to tackle it, hunh, interesting indeed. Since there is hope, only a masochist will decide to stay clear off the path to life. If this is the case, why then did it take that long for the doctors to find out what the problem was?
I remembered Dr. Duke said 'Acute myeloid leukaemia is caused by mutation in the stem cells in the bone marrow. You know that the stem cells produce the red and white blood cells including the platelets Seeing the look on my face, the good doctor smiled as he told me 'you do not need to worry I.G, with the treatment plan that my team has developed for you, you will be as good as new in a little over a year He, true to his words explained the treatment plan to me. Although I did not understand most of the things he said, I got the crux of it.
He is the model care giver for Nigerian medical practioners. I envy his children, how blessed to be gifted such a father. The way he smiles, as he works his way into one's heart, around him, all spirits of pain are banned from singing in band. Those eyes will not only make your pains nonexistent, they also function as lie detector. I wonder if anyone can tell any lies to him. They would have spouted the truth, even before they realised what they had done. The sound of his voice, carries along an hypnotic element. Just like a cool shower on a hot summer afternoon; the deed is done. Not only does he speak calmly, he is equally an ardent listener. A good teacher is added to the mix of what made him the model care giver.
'Your treatment will be in two stages. To begin, we will inject some chemo drugs, to target most cancerous cells in your blood. Like the area of effect attack that players use in the game 'herfreekans heroes', it has a 'one kills many' effect. The quantity of medicine used will depend on how much your body can handle. Since you, my friend, are young and strong, we will give you what is enough for you. We do not want polluted blood left in your body, so, you will get blood transfusions occasionally. Healthy blood cells that will help you fight infections, those you will get, and on a regular basis from the blood.
Although I said it like that, there will be times when you will feel uncomfortable. Bleeding, bruising, mouth ulcers, hair loss and loss of appetite will attend the party without invitation. We cannot stop any one from coming, but we will have our own bouncers at the gate. Those rogues will be prevented from ruining our peaceful protest, against the cancerous cells, they will be ejected, slowly but surely. There would be tussle, between the gate crashers and our bouncers. Hope you understand the logic He asked with his signature smile. Haar, I do not know whose smile is better at melting hearts; his or nurse Fade's? Why did P.S.H hoard the best stuffs for themselves alone, why can they not gift these good people to other hospitals? At least so others could have a taste of what good health care means.
'I.G, do you want me to break it down further?' Oh no! I was lost again in thought. For how long I would continue to get lost, I did not in any way know. If this persisted much further, I might never find my way back to the space and time, wherein, when in I belong anymore. I quickly nodded to him before shaking my head once again. 'C'mmon, we will try as much as possible to reduce whatever discomfort you might have. With the new chemo drugs we got from a private research lab abroad, I am positive that if the intensive induction is properly carried out, we might not need stem cell transplant Having misunderstood my confusion, he thought it was as a result of fear. Did I have to correct his view, should I have told him I was thinking about something else? I am very sure he would have strapped me to the bed, brought out his scalpel, and opened my skull to see what else lives there other than, what we all were gifted by nature.
There is one thing I failed to understand though, nurse Fade already told me about some things that could lead to one being a victim of constant harassment from AMC, yet I fail to see a link. I neither smoke nor stay in an environment that could have gotten me exposed to the fumes emitting from the primary smokers. I did not have any previous cancer diagnosis, or treatment. Other laws of health, I have observed; like a Pharisee, to the fullest. Where did it come from?
After six months of intensive chemo, no single cancerous cell was killed in my body, none. The strangeness of the treatment shocked all of my care giving team. Stem cell transplant was suggested as an alternative treatment procedure. Immediately, volunteers were tested to search for a match. As if the gods really wanted this boy, erm, erm, man to suffer, no match was found, not even from close relatives. It was during one of such test that it was discovered that my DNA and RNA were changing; a genetic mutation at a speed that shocked everyone. My DNA strings were changing to nothing the doctors here have ever seen before. Can we never escape...