“How do you mean? Is the ORS fake?” she asked with an undertone of panic. “I got it from a very reliable pharmacy. And I checked the expiry date and NAFDAC number before giving it to him and both were okay.”
Well, after a period of mourning and dejection over my silly mistake, I realized that I could choose to be bitter or better. So I learned everything I could about cerebral palsy. I found great resources online and joined communities of parents…
Two deadly farts later, and still thirty minutes away from the food stop, the driver pulled over. Kofo ran into the forest to do the deed. On his way back, he felt a sharp pain on his leg and looked down just in time to see a long brown snake slither away. “Help! Snake don bite me o…” Kofo cried as he hobbled back to the bus.
“Oh my God! It’s a scorpion!” she said, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and relief. She killed the scorpion and then turned to console her son.
“I’m saying I don’t want to understand. I just want the treatment. All I want is to be well,” she said smugly.
Dr. Animasaun blinked twice. “You know that’s drug abuse right?”
“Well,… I just don’t want the money we paid for health insurance to waste.”
Dr. Animasaun sighed. Partial knowledge could indeed be catastrophic.
“I think the question you should ask is what if something happens? We can’t bury our heads in the sand hoping nothing will happen. We must weigh the risks and act wisely. But to answer your question, like those eggs in the parable, I think it’s better to pay four naira knowing that if you don’t use it, it is helping someone else, than to pay fifty naira all alone because you don’t want to share. What do you think?”
All of these people are manifesting the symptoms of the grief they feel. It’s personal, yet it is shared. It’s a different experience for each person, yet it’s the same gut-wrenching grief.
“Are you done?” Chike said mockingly. “Na Naija we dey so. Craze na craze, abi my people?”
“Can I accept this? So you are saying a diabetic person can eat pounded yam?” she asked.
