EPISODE 37 – MEDICAL TRAUMA

Who likes anything negative? I bet no one does. I don’t either. Negatives tend to always have one thing or the other to do with bad stuff. In fact, no one ever prays for negative results. Now, how about the twin term, ‘Positive’? Now, everyone likes that, right? I looked up an English thesaurus to find words synonymous with the term ‘positive’ and found out that ‘positive’ could mean any of the following: optimistic, constructive, helpful, encouraging, affirming, etc. My point is, the term ‘positive’ is generally synonymous with pleasant happenings. However, that seemingly pleasant term could take a totally different turn and register a stark unpleasantness, hence in that instant you find yourself wishing for a negative. For instance, everyone wants a Negative H.I.V test result and a Negative Pregnancy test result, especially when having a baby is the last thing you want.

BG’s pregnancy test result came back positive and I was convinced for a good while that I was having a bad dream, a nightmare. If my memory served me right, we had gone for an abortion weeks before and the evacuation had been done, so what in hell was happening? ‘Positive’ meant she was pregnant but I was not sure of which pregnancy this one was - the one that had been taken care of or a fresh one? My head was spinning like a turntable under a mad deejay’s control. I examined the possibilities. I had not slept with BG after the abortion so technically it was impossible for her to be pregnant afresh, except she was the new Virgin Mary and I was sure God had no such plans for humanity anymore. The other possible option was the possibility of her still being pregnant with the same foetus we had since
terminated. What if the abortion attempt had failed? I felt a chill run through my spine as the thought crossed my mind. No way, I assured myself feebly. It was impossible.
“Are you sure the test was well carried out?” I asked her.
It was a rather stupid question but at that moment I hardly felt like one with complete senses.
“Of course the test was well done.” BG retorted, scarcely concealing her irritation.
“Was it a urine test or a blood test?” I probed further.
“A blood test,” she answered.
“Let’s try a urine test then.” I said. “You can’t still be pregnant.”
I wondered if I would have suggested a blood test had she told me she had done a urine test and I was sure I would have. I was convinced beyond every iota of doubt that BG could not still be pregnant; at least I had convinced myself to that extent.

BG left for the lab and immediately I called the doctor to break the news. The woman was shocked as well.
“You mean she has not still seen her menses?” she asked.
“No!” I barked into the receiver. “This is not even about the menses. She just had a pregnancy test and it was positive.”
“Are you sure you did not have intercourse with her after the evacuation?” she asked.
“No, we haven’t done anything of that sort” I said, struggling to keep my voice down. I was furious as hell.
The doctor hesitated for a while. “That’s a serious case. I am equally confused,” she said.
“That means you did not do the evacuation properly, doctor.” I accused.
“No way,” the abortionist defended. “I have been doing this for years and I have never heard of this situation before. Both of you should come and see me tomorrow.”
The first thought that came to mind as soon as I ended the call was to go see the woman, give her a lash of words and collect a total refund of my money. However, I decided otherwise since that would in no way help solve the problem. Besides, she might just be able to do something about it. While I pondered on the next line of action, BG called to inform me that the urine test had confirmed that she was still pregnant.

We were at the doctor’s clinic the next day and I sat in the consulting room and watched her examine BG. She pressed her stethoscope to BG’s tummy and listened for what seemed like an eternity. Then she applied some slight pressure on the lower tummy with her hands.
“Do you feel any pains here?” she asked.
BG shook her head. “Not at all”
The woman sighed. “I don’t understand what’s happening here. She does not appear to be at all pregnant but her abdomen is hard.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
The doctor removed the stethoscope from her ears slowly. “It means she’s over two months pregnant.”
“That’s the same pregnancy you terminated!” I exclaimed. “You did a lousy job, woman!”
“Don’t shout at me, young man!” the doctor retorted. “I did my job and I did it well. You can ask your woman. The foetus was evacuated.”
“So what could have happened?” I asked weakly.
The woman did not respond for almost one minute and I was about to repeat my question when she gave a most ridiculous opinion.
“Maybe it’s twins.”
I was not sure I heard right. “What? I beg your pardon.”
“I said it’s possible that she was pregnant with twins and only one was removed while the other one remained.”
I decided this woman was not just a quack. She was equally insane! I beckoned to BG and we left the clinic.

I was now sure that I was in deep trouble. BG was indeed pregnant and I wondered why things had gone so awfully wrong. I had repented of my sins and since turned a new leaf, so I could not fathom why God seemed so bent on punishing me and subjecting me to so much ridicule. My waterloo was almost inevitable now, especially because I could not bring myself to taking BG for another abortion. Her reaction when I broached the subject totally kicked the idea off my mind.
“You must be crazy!” she lashed. “Another abortion? Why don’t you just take a knife and kill me yourself.”
I wished I could have done that if only I would go scot-free. Truth was, even if she had been willing to go ahead with the abortion, I had lost all courage to go through with it. The unsuccessful abortion attempt opened up my eyes to the possibility of a higher power being at work. I decided to resist whatever power could be at work and got a prescription that might help in our bid to terminate the pregnancy from a friend who knew a gynaecologist.
“This drug can remove a three-month old foetus in fact. My doctor says it’s safer than abortions,” my friend had told me. He also added that there were mild side effects that would not pose any real threat.

Getting the drug cost some good money and we hoped we would get our problem solved for good. Two weeks later, the situation was still the same and at that point, I became totally convinced that I was fighting against God in a battle I could never win. My friend decided we go and see his gynaecologist friend. Booking an appointment with the doctor took another two weeks and all the while, I continually observed BG’s physical features. There was nothing about her to suggest she was pregnant and I hoped I would not go mad with worry. Finally, we met the gynaecologist by mid February and on examination he confirmed that BG really could be pregnant. He also corroborated the woman doctor’s ‘twin-foetus theory’ as a possibility much to my utmost shock. He advised that BG went for a pelvic scan in order to be certain of the precise situation. The result of the scan proved to be the final blow. I decided to throw in the towel and surrender to the powers that were dealing with me.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.

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EPISODE 36 – BACK TO SQUARE ONE

I have heard news in the past few days that have had me smiling. I smile out of derision and at the same time, out of admiration as two records are set to be broken. I heard that a group of Nigerians have decided to put our country’s name in the Guinness Book of Records by baking the world’s largest cake, a 65-ton and six-foot high cake, to commemorate the nation’s 50th independence anniversary on October 1st. The representative of the group affirmed that the cake would be distributed across all the states of the Federation and Nigerians would have the opportunity to eat out of the ‘national cake’ literally. I laughed at the story till my sides ached. A taste of the national cake indeed!

I also heard that the leader of the defunct hip-hop group, Fugees and rap lord, Wyclef Jean is set to run for the post of President of his country, Haiti. Now, that is great news. I hope he wins and makes a record as the first rapper/hip-hop artist to become a nation’s President. After all, the actor, Arnold Schwarzenegger became Governor of America’s most populated state, California and even got a second term. Wyclef Jean is probably the greatest export out of Haiti; just as Emmanuel Adebayor of Togo (some say he’s actually Nigerian. Who no go claim better thing?) and Didier Drogba of Ivory Coast. I know these guys are worshipped in their countries. I believe the ‘Diallo’ crooner has the interest of the people of Haiti at heart and has always been involved in activities to push his nation forward but I am forced to wonder if philanthropy is actually a criterion to engage in politics. The fact that you have a passion for your country might not necessarily make you the best person for the job, especially for an extremely economically-backward nation like Haiti.

The recent disaster in the country has further worsened their plight and I believe only a man with a clearly spelt-out vision, strategy and error-proof agenda can bring that country out of the pits. I hope Wyclef Jean achieves his dream especially for the love of hip-hop. However, I am reminded of the great football legend, George Weah’s ambition to become the President of Liberia and how he lost to Ellen Sirleaf-Johnson, a woman with a stronger agenda and greater experience in national policy formation. Weah was also a ‘god’ in Liberia and had done so much for his nation but when the people had to settle for one who would lead them out of the pits they were, they settled for the less known person with more intellectual capacity (some say the election was rigged in Sirleaf’s favour. Me I no know o). Speaking of Haiti, it would definitely feel good to shout ‘PRESIDENT WYCLEF JEAN . . . Diallo! Diallo! I have almost forgotten I was here to continue my story. Damn you, Clef! Lol.

January 2007 began with great promise. I was a changed man and I could practically feel the fire burning in my bones – the fire of purpose; a purpose to shun all acts of irresponsibility and embrace God and my academics seriously. I almost felt like Moses returning from the mountains and I hoped people could see my shinning countenance. The holidays were over and I returned to school, hoping I would be able to follow my new found dreams. However, I found myself wondering on a few occasions how I would have to face BG when we saw each other again, an inevitable situation. If I had my way I would never have wanted to see her ever again, not because I hated her. On the contrary, I still cared about her but I wanted the entire experience we had gone through put behind me forever and painful as it was I believed it was best to separate from her for good.

A few days into resumption in school, I bumped into her and I could hardly believe the extent of my nervousness at that moment. She looked every inch as cute and delicate as she had always been and I felt my heart drawn to her.
“Hey BG, how are you?” I managed.
“I’m alright,” she said with admirable ease. “When did you return?”
“Last week.”
“You did not even bother to call me. That’s not fair, Geebee.”
I sighed. I knew I should at least have called her to let her know I was in town. I wondered on the other hand if that would have been necessary. After all, we had both agreed to part ways and move on without each other.
“I’m sorry about that.” I apologized.
She shrugged and shook her head slowly before walking off. I felt crushed at that moment as I remembered the good times we had once had and particularly the fact that she really did not deserve all that had happened to her. I wished I had a choice but I believed at that moment that I didn’t. I tried hard not to imagine how much BG would hate me right then.

A few days later, she called me on phone and told me we needed to talk. I wondered what on earth she wanted us to talk about and decided immediately that if she was going to ask that we get back together, I would not hesitate to refuse her request. In fact, I was almost sure that was why she wanted to see me. I agreed to see her in order not to seem overly arrogant or as though I was deliberating avoiding her which I was really doing. However, it was best not to make myself look like any worse than I really was and refusing to see her would have painted a perfect picture of this. We met in our usual hangout and sitting with her evoked fond memories I had to struggle to push back. BG went straight to the point.
“Geebee, I am worried,” she said.
I suppressed my irritation. “What are you worried about?” I asked impatiently.
“I still have not seen my period.”
The words sent a chill running through my spine as sweat broke out on my forehead. What was she trying to do? I wondered suspiciously.
“What are you implying?” I asked, deciding to shout the hell out of her if she was trying to play stupid games with me all in a bid to get my attention.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I thought by now I should have seen the flow.”
I wanted to tell her to go to hell as that was none of my business. I wanted to walk out on her and leave her to go fish out the hiding flow or whatever she damned saw fit. I had done my part for chrissakes! As much as I wanted to take these actions, I could not find the courage. I dared not take any more risks; especially not after all we had gone through in the bid to get rid of the foetus. I had to be sure there was nothing left to worry about.

It had been over one month since the abortion and there was no excuse why she should not have seen her menses. I remembered the doctor had assured us after the evacuation that all she needed to do was rest, take some antibiotics and eat well and she would be okay. The woman had further said that BG would see her menstrual flow within three to four weeks at the very worst. Now, that did not seem to be happening. I hoped her womb had not been damaged or some interruption in her body system had occurred as those were the only possible reasons I could think of that could have been responsible for her situation.
“I would call the doctor first thing tomorrow,” I said.
I called the doctor as promised and her reassurances greatly eased my worries. She informed me that there could be exceptions in certain cases and BG’s body system was likely adjusting to the interference, especially since she had hitherto been a virgin. The explanation seemed rather confusing and far from convincing but it made a great deal of sense as I needed just any information to put my mind at rest. She further requested that I call her if nothing happened within the next two weeks.

I called BG immediately and relayed all that the ‘abortionist’ had told me, stressing the fact that she had nothing to worry about. However, two weeks later, the ‘flow’ was still no where in sight. At that point, I began to worry greatly and BG’s calls had become more frequent much to my chagrin. I contemplated asking her to go for another pregnancy test but immediately kicked out the thought. She could not be pregnant, I assured myself; at least not for me again, I added mentally. While I pondered on the awkward situation, BG went for a pregnancy test yet again and when I saw the result I wished the ground would open and swallow me up for good. It was POSITIVE.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.

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EPISODE 36 – BACK AT SQUARE ONE

I have heard news in the past few days that have had me smiling. I smile out of derision and at the same time, out of admiration as two records are set to be broken. I heard that a group of Nigerians have decided to put our country’s name in the Guinness Book of Records by baking the world’s largest cake, a 60-ton and six-foot high cake, to commemorate the nation’s 50th independence anniversary on October 1st. The representative of the group affirmed that the cake would be distributed across all the states of the Federation and Nigerians would have the opportunity to eat out of the ‘national cake’ literally. I laughed at the story till my sides ached. A taste of the national cake indeed!

I also heard that the leader of the defunct hip-hop group, Fugees and rap lord, Wyclef Jean is set to contest for the office of President of his country, Haiti. Now, that is great news. I hope he wins and makes a record as the first rapper/hip-hop artist to become a nation’s President. After all, the actor, Arnold Schwarzenegger became Governor of America’s most populated state, California and even got a second term. Wyclef Jean is probably the greatest export out of Haiti; just as Emmanuel Adebayor of Togo (some say he’s actually Nigerian. Who no go claim better thing?) and Didier Drogba of Ivory Coast. I know these guys are literally worshipped in their countries. I believe the ‘Diallo’ crooner has the interest of the people of Haiti at heart and has always been involved in activities to push his nation forward but I am forced to wonder if philanthropy is actually a criterion to engage in politics. The fact that you have a passion for your country might not necessarily make you the best person for the job, especially for an extremely economically-backward nation like Haiti.

The recent disaster in the country has further worsened their plight and I believe only a man with a clearly spelt-out vision, strategy and error-proof agenda can bring that country out of the pits. I hope Wyclef Jean achieves his dream especially for the love of hip-hop. However, I am reminded of the great football legend, George Weah’s ambition to become the President of Liberia and how he lost to Ellen Sirleaf-Johnson, a woman with a stronger agenda and greater experience in national policy formation. Weah was also a ‘god’ in Liberia and had done so much for his nation but when the people had to settle for one who would lead them out of the pits they were, they settled for the less known person with more intellectual capacity (some say the election was rigged in Sirleaf’s favour. Me I no know o). Speaking of Haiti, it would definitely feel good to shout ‘PRESIDENT WYCLEF JEAN . . . Diallo! Diallo! I have almost forgotten I was here to continue my story. Damn you, Clef! Lol.

January 2007 began with great promise. I was a changed man and I could practically feel the fire burning in my bones – the fire of purpose; a purpose to shun all acts of irresponsibility and embrace God and my academics seriously. I felt like Moses returning from the mountains and I hoped people could see my shinning countenance. The holidays were over and I returned to school, hoping I would be able to follow my new found dreams. However, I found myself wondering on a few occasions how I would have to face BG when we saw each other again, an inevitable situation. If I had my way I would never have wanted to see her ever again, not because I hated her. On the contrary, I still cared about her but I wanted the entire experience we had gone through put behind me forever and painful as it was I believed it was best to separate from her for good.

A few days into resumption in school, I bumped into her and I could hardly believe the extent of my nervousness at that moment. She looked every inch as cute and delicate as she had always been and I felt my heart drawn to her.
“Hey BG, how are you?” I managed.
“I’m alright,” she said with admirable ease. “When did you return?”
“Last week.”
“You did not even bother to call me. That’s not fair, Geebee.”
I sighed. I knew I should at least have called her to let her know I was in town. I wondered on the other hand if that would have been necessary. After all, we had both agreed to part ways and move on without each other.
“I’m sorry about that.” I apologized.
She shrugged and shook her head slowly before walking off. I felt crushed at that moment as I remembered the good times we had once had and particularly the fact that she really did not deserve all that had happened to her. I wished I had a choice but I believed at that moment that I didn’t. I tried hard not to imagine how much BG would hate me right then.

A few days later, she called me on phone and told me we needed to talk. I wondered what on earth she wanted us to talk about and decided immediately that if she was going to ask that we get back together, I would not hesitate to refuse her request. In fact, I was almost sure that was why she wanted to see me. I agreed to see her in order not to seem overly arrogant or as though I was deliberating avoiding her which I was really doing. However, it was best not to make myself look like any worse and refusing to see her would have painted a perfect picture of this. We met in our usual hangout and sitting with her evoked fond memories I had to struggle to push back. BG went straight to the point.
“Geebee, I am worried,” she said.
I suppressed my irritation. “What are you worried about?” I asked impatiently.
“I still have not seen my period.”
The words sent a chill running through my spine as sweat broke out on my forehead. What was she trying to do? I wondered suspiciously.
“What are you implying?” I asked, deciding to shout the hell out of her if she was trying to play stupid games with me all in a bid to get my attention.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I thought by now I should have seen the flow.”
I wanted to tell her to go to hell as that was none of my business. I wanted to walk out on her and leave her to go fish out the hiding flow or whatever she damned saw fit. I had done my part for chrissakes! As much as I wanted to take these actions, I could not find the courage. I dared not take any more risks; especially not after all we had gone through in the bid to get rid of the foetus. I had to be sure there was nothing left to worry about.

It had been over one month since the abortion and there was no excuse why she should not have seen her menses. I remembered the doctor had assured us after the evacuation that all she needed to do was rest, take some antibiotics and eat well and she would be okay. The woman had further said that BG would see her menstrual flow within three to four weeks at the very worst. Now, that did not seem to be happening. I hoped her womb had not been damaged or some interruption in her body system had occurred as those were the only possible reasons I could think of that could have been responsible for her situation.
“I would call the doctor first thing tomorrow,” I said.
I called the doctor as promised and her reassurances greatly eased my worries. She informed me that there could be exceptions in certain cases and BG’s body system was likely adjusting to the interference, especially since she had hitherto been a virgin. The explanation seemed rather confusing and far from convincing but it made a great deal of sense as I needed just any information to put my mind at rest. She further requested that I call her if nothing happened within the next two weeks.

I called BG immediately and relayed all that the ‘abortionist’ had told me, stressing the fact that she had nothing to worry about. However, two weeks later, the ‘flow’ was still no where in sight. At that point, I began to worry greatly and BG’s calls had become more frequent much to my chagrin. I contemplated asking her to go for another pregnancy test but immediately kicked out the thought. She could not be pregnant, I assured myself; at least not for me again, I added mentally. While I pondered on the awkward situation, BG went for a pregnancy test on her own and when I saw the result I wished the ground would open and swallow me up for good. It was POSITIVE.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES

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