Your brother is running mad! Mom called to tell me over the phone. I asked her to calm down. He has been sick, and it resulted in hay fever. I quickly rushed home, and what I saw wasn’t good for the eyes.

He was saying things no one understood. Before now, he had this habit of keeping quiet when he was sick and acting all manly until it knocked him down. Also, he was addicted to smoking weed and taking some drugs.

My neighbor came in, saw him, and also went to get help. Daddy wasn’t in town. The car came, and his body was becoming stiff. It was quite scary. We rushed him to a general hospital close by in a bid to stabilize him before proper treatment could commence. There was no doctor on site. My mom went to get a card for him, and the attendant was so nonchalant about everything.

Well, she got it eventually. While at the hospital, I got to see just one nurse attending to people. And an accident victim looking lifeless was rushed in; there was no bed to lay her on. She sat on the wheel chair, receiving a drip.

Finally, a doctor was on his way, and I was asked to get something for him to eat. Before then, I called Joe to tell him what was happening, and he explained what I needed to know and calmed me down since he was in the medical line too.

It was already late, so most shops were closed, but I managed to get something for him. On my way back, my mom called to tell me what transpired. The doctor came, looked at my brother, asked some questions, and boom—he was going to rub an ointment on him. My mom asked, “Why?”

He couldn’t give a tangible response, so we left. We went to another private hospital, but there was no doctor. Finally, my neighbor’s daughter took us to an old nurse who had experience.

We arrived at this place, and she said, “This is who I’ve been waiting for.” It was past 10 p.m. She asked questions, examined him, gave him injections, and prayed for him. It melted my heart, and a tear dropped. I asked her questions, and she said he had cerebral malaria, which affected him, and the substance he too could be another factor. He urinated, and the color was different from normal; it was kind of reddish. I asked why. Hope it has nothing to do with cancer, she smiled at me and told me no.

Finally, we were home, and he managed to sleep. In between, he vomited some greenish-looking substance in the morning. His case wasn’t looking good. We rushed him to the hospital again with the help of a friend. The first hospital said they couldn’t handle his case; the second hospital had a doctor who examined him. gave him injections again. And he also mentioned having cerebral malaria. She referred us elsewhere.

Finally, we got the medical attention we wanted. The doctor in charge asked questions, and I explained to him what happened. My mom was too unstable to speak. He was admitted, and treatment commenced. They tried to stabilize him. At some point, he was restrained on the bed while taking his drips.

For three days, my brother could not recognize anyone. I became his therapist. I would say positive words to him and gist with him when begins to say his rubbish. Little did I know that it sank into his subconscious. After three days,he began to recognize people. Got back from home and I introduced myself,he mentioned my tribal name and said “my sister”. It was a gradual process but I was happy. We bonded in the hospital and I decided to scare him. Telling him his addiction and careless landed us here.

I played the videos of our little drama, and he said it was like someone was talking to him in his dreams. Told him I knew his strong, He’s not a wayward child, he will overcome, I believe his government and lots more.

At this point, samples were taken to know what the exact problem was. Results came out and it was cerebral malaria and typhoid that affects the kidneys. He’d groan in pains at night, then try to sleep in the day time. Sleep vanished from my eyes for three weeks. At some point, I could barely sleep, if it did, it wasn’t more than 15mins,I’m up again.

Nurse Nkechi became my friend, we will gist whenever she was on duty. I always looked forward to night. She would answer my questions. She told me about herself just to encourage me. It was impressive.

My brother’s body began to change. He was swelling up. I still questioned the doctors and they calmed me down. At some point, they’d use medical terms when communicating and I’d browse it.

My brother had renal (kidney) issues. I wasn’t ready to go online to ask for help, I prayed within me for God to help us. His urea and creatinine was increasing.

I got all the explanations and encouragement I needed. A catheter was inserted, but he wasn’t comfortable. Whenever I followed him to use the toilet, he’d thank me and bless me. I just wanted him to be fine. There were days I wished the pains came to me. It was so unbearable for him. I just hope he won’t relapse after all this.

After the last test came out, dialysis was the only option. We were referred to another hospital that had a renal center. The specialist didn’t want him to undergo the process, so he gave us hope that he’d be fine. We left there, but he wasn’t getting better. I went back to the doctor and got a referral note to another hospital.

We saw the specialist. She asked us to do a series of tests and scans. The scan result showed he had acute kidney injuries on both kidneys. while blood samples showed his creatinine was high. It rose to 1600. The lab attendant advised we do dialysis. I spoke with the doctor who referred us He was helpful all through. We got back to the specialist, and she said he’d undergo dialysis. Payment was made, and the process began. We were told he would go for three sessions. As usual, I’d ask questions. Before then, my brother began to cry. He thought it was going to be surgery. I talked with him; the nurse explained things to him and my mom, and they were calm.

In the midst of all these, I’d look for a quiet place and cry (strong girl, no strong again). I’d wipe my tears and come back to him. I looked at my mom too; the stress was too much. She also had typhoid, which she was recuperating from. I’d tell her to go home, but she’d decline. The last session was over, and guess what? Three months later, my brother relapsed. I told him I had paid my dues already and nothing would take me back to the hospital again. During our stay in the hospital, from when I began counting, he had 46 ounces of normal saline and eight antibiotics before we left the hospital because it was so intense. Sleep was my worst nightmare in three weeks.

It’s true when they say that most addicts don’t feel the pain like their family members do because they aren’t conscious. I haven’t been to the hospital for years. Everything I saw, from the terrible cases to people losing their loved ones and seeing dead bodies taken out of the morgue, traumatized me for two years.

You all won’t want to know what happened next.



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