Dr. Ada Igonoh |
Infected with the
deadly Ebola virus and confined to quarantine centre ‘the valley of death’
where she saw death literarily walked about, but she came out alive, healthy,
and with a more powerful faith in God. This story, as told by Dr. Ada Igonoh herself,
will definitely change your perception of faith in God.
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Dr. Adadevoh at this time was in a pensive mood. Patrick Sawyer was now a suspected case of Ebola, perhaps the first in the country. He was quarantined, and strict barrier nursing was applied with all the precautionary measures we could muster. Dr. Adadevoh went online, downloaded information on Ebola and printed copies which were distributed to the nurses, doctors and ward maids. Blood and urine samples were sent to LUTH that morning. Protective gear, gloves, shoe covers and facemasks were provided for the staff. A wooden barricade was placed at the entrance of the door to keep visitors and unauthorized personnel away from the patient.
My husband started visiting but was not allowed to come close to me. He could only see me from a window at a distance. He visited so many times. It was he who brought me a change of clothes and toiletries and other things I needed because I had not even packed a bag. I was grateful I was not with him at home when I fell ill or he would most certainly have contracted the disease. My retreat at my parents’ home turned out to be the instrumentality God used to shield and save him.
Shortly after Justina came into the ward, the ward maid, Mrs Ukoh passed on. The disease had gotten into her central nervous system. We stared at her lifeless body in shock. It was a whole 12 hours before officials of W.H.O came and took her body away. The ward had become the house of death. The whole area surrounding her bed was disinfected with bleach. Her mattress was taken and burned.
Two more females joined us in the ward; a nurse from our hospital and a patient from another hospital. The mood in the ward was solemn. There were times we would be awakened by the sudden, loud cry from one of the women. It was either from fear, pain mixed with the distress or just the sheer oppression of our isolation.
On the evening of the day Justina passed on, we were moved to the new isolation centre. We felt like we were leaving hell and going to heaven.
We had to pass through several stations of disinfection before we reached the car. Bleach and chlorinated water were sprayed on everyone’s legs at each station. As we made our way to the car, we walked past the old isolation building. I could hardly recognize it. I could not believe I slept in that building for 10 days. I was free! Free of Ebola. Free to live again. Free to interact with humanity again. Free from the sentence of death.
Early detection and reporting to hospital is key to patient survival. Please do not hide yourself if you have been in contact with an Ebola patient and have developed the symptoms. Regardless of any grim stories one may have heard about the treatment of patients in the isolation centre, it is still better to be in the isolation ward with specialist care, than at home where you and others will be at risk.
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On the night
of Sunday July 20, 2014, Patrick Sawyer was wheeled into the Emergency Room at
First Consultants Medical Centre, Obalende, Lagos, with complaints of fever and
body weakness. The male doctor on call admitted him as a case of malaria and
took a full history. Knowing that Mr Sawyer had recently arrived from Liberia,
the doctor asked if he had been in contact with an Ebola patient in the last
couple of weeks, and Mr. Sawyer denied any such contact. He also denied
attending any funeral ceremony recently. Blood samples were taken for full
blood count, malaria parasites, liver function test and other baseline
investigations. He was admitted into a private room and started on antimalarial
drugs and analgesics. That night, the full blood count result came back as
normal and not indicative of infection.
The
following day however, his condition worsened. He barely ate any of his meals.
His liver function test result showed his liver enzymes were markedly elevated.
We then took samples for HIV and hepatitis screening.
At about
5.00pm, he requested to see a doctor. I was the doctor on call that night so I
went in to see him. He was lying in bed with his intravenous (I.V.) fluid bag
removed from its metal stand and placed beside him. He complained that he had
stooled about five times that evening and that he wanted to use the bathroom
again. I picked up the I.V. bag from his bed and hung it back on the stand. I
told him I would inform a nurse to come and disconnect the I.V. so he could
conveniently go to the bathroom. I walked out of his room and went straight to
the nurses’ station where I told the nurse on duty to disconnect his I.V. I
then informed my Consultant, Dr. Ameyo Adadevoh about the patient’s condition
and she asked that he be placed on some medications.
The
following day, the results for HIV and hepatitis screening came out negative.
As we were preparing for the early morning ward rounds, I was approached by an
ECOWAS official who informed me that Patrick Sawyer had to catch an 11 o’clock
flight to Calabar for a retreat that morning. He wanted to know if it would be
possible. I told him it wasn’t, as he was acutely ill. Dr. Adadevoh also told
him the patient could certainly not leave the hospital in his condition. She
then instructed me to write very boldly on his chart that on no account should
Patrick Sawyer be allowed out of the hospital premises without the permission
of Dr. Ohiaeri, our Chief Medical Consultant. All nurses and doctors were duly
informed.
During our
early morning ward round with Dr. Adadevoh, we concluded that this was not
malaria and that the patient needed to be screened for Ebola Viral Disease. She
immediately started calling laboratories to find out where the test could be
carried out. She was eventually referred to Professor Omilabu of the LUTH
Virology Reference Lab in Idi-Araba whom she called immediately. Prof. Omilabu
told her to send blood and urine samples to LUTH straight away. She tried to
reach the Lagos State Commissioner for Health but was unable to contact him at the
time. She also put calls across to officials of the Federal Ministry of Health
and National Centre for Disease Control.Dr. Adadevoh at this time was in a pensive mood. Patrick Sawyer was now a suspected case of Ebola, perhaps the first in the country. He was quarantined, and strict barrier nursing was applied with all the precautionary measures we could muster. Dr. Adadevoh went online, downloaded information on Ebola and printed copies which were distributed to the nurses, doctors and ward maids. Blood and urine samples were sent to LUTH that morning. Protective gear, gloves, shoe covers and facemasks were provided for the staff. A wooden barricade was placed at the entrance of the door to keep visitors and unauthorized personnel away from the patient.
Despite the
medications prescribed earlier, the vomiting and diarrhea persisted. The fever
escalated from 38c to 40c.
On the
morning of Wednesday 23rd July, the tests carried out in LUTH showed a signal
for Ebola. Samples were then sent to Dakar, Senegal for a confirmatory test.
Dr. Adadevoh went for several meetings with the Lagos State Ministry of Health.
Thereafter, officials from Lagos State came to inspect the hospital and the
protective measures we had put in place.
The
following day, Thursday 24th July, I was again on call. At about 10.00pm Mr.
Sawyer requested to see me. I went into the newly created dressing room, donned
my protective gear and went in to see him. He had not been cooperating with the
nurses and had refused any additional treatment. He sounded confused and said
he received a call from Liberia asking for a detailed medical report to be sent
to them. He also said he had to travel back to Liberia on a 5.00am flight the
following morning and that he didn’t want to miss his flight. I told him that I
would inform Dr. Adadevoh. As I was leaving the room, I met Dr. Adadevoh
dressed in her protective gear along with a nurse and another doctor. They went
into his room to have a discussion with him and as I heard later to reset his
I.V. line which he had deliberately removed after my visit to his room.
At 6:30am,
Friday 25th July, I got a call from the nurse that Patrick Sawyer was
completely unresponsive. Again I put on the protective gear and headed to his
room. I found him slumped in the bathroom. I examined him and observed that
there was no respiratory movement. I felt for his pulse; it was absent. We had
lost him. It was I who certified Patrick Sawyer dead. I informed Dr. Adadevoh
immediately and she instructed that no one was to be allowed to go into his
room for any reason at all. Later that day, officials from W.H.O came and took
his body away. The test in Dakar later came out positive for Zaire strain of
the Ebola virus. We now had the first official case of Ebola virus disease in
Nigeria.
It was a
sobering day. We all began to go over all that happened in the last few days,
wondering just how much physical contact we had individually made with Patrick
Sawyer. Every patient on admission was discharged that day and decontamination
began in the hospital. We were now managing a crisis situation. The next day,
Saturday 26th July, all staff of First Consultants attended a meeting with
Prof. Nasidi of the National Centre for Disease Control, Prof Omilabu of LUTH
Virology Reference Lab, and some officials of W.H.O. They congratulated us on
the actions we had taken and enlightened us further about the Ebola Virus Disease.
They said we were going to be grouped into high risk and low risk categories
based on our individual level of exposure to Patrick Sawyer, the “index” case.
Each person would receive a temperature chart and a thermometer to record
temperatures in the morning and night for the next 21 days. We were all
officially under surveillance. We were asked to report to them at the first
sign of a fever for further blood tests to be done. We were reassured that we
would all be given adequate care. The anxiety in the air was palpable.
The frenetic
pace of life in Lagos, coupled with the demanding nature of my job as a doctor,
means that I occasionally need a change of environment. As such, one week
before Patrick Sawyer died, I had gone to my parents’ home for a retreat. I was
still staying with them when I received my temperature chart and thermometer on
Tuesday 29th of July. I could not contain my anxiety. People were talking Ebola
everywhere – on television, online, everywhere. I soon started experiencing
joint and muscle aches and a sore throat, which I quickly attributed to stress
and anxiety. I decided to take malaria tablets. I also started taking
antibiotics for the sore throat. The first couple of temperature readings were
normal. Every day I would attempt to recall the period Patrick Sawyer was on
admission – just how much direct and indirect contact did I have with him? I
reassured myself that my contact with him was quite minimal. I completed the
anti-malarials but the aches and pains persisted. I had loss of appetite and
felt very tired.
On Friday
1st of August, my temperature read a high 38.7c. As I type this, I recall the
anxiety I felt that morning. I could not believe what I saw on the thermometer.
I ran to my mother’s room and told her. I did not go to work that day. I
cautiously started using a separate set of utensils and cups from the ones my
family members were using.
On Saturday
2nd of August, the fever worsened. It was now at 39c and would not be reduced
by taking paracetamol. This was now my second day of fever. I couldn’t eat. The
sore throat was getting worse. That was when I called the helpline and an
ambulance was sent with W.H.O doctors who came and took a sample of my blood.
Later that day, I started stooling and vomiting. I stayed away from my family.
I started washing my plates and spoons myself. My parents meanwhile, were
convinced that I could not have Ebola.
The
following day, Sunday 3rd of August, I got a call from one of the doctors who
came to take my sample the day before. He told me that the sample which was
they had taken was not confirmatory, and that they needed another sample. He
did not sound very coherent and I became worried. They came with the ambulance
that afternoon and told me that I had to go with them to Yaba. I was confused.
Couldn’t the second sample be taken in the ambulance like the previous one? He
said a better-qualified person at the Yaba centre would take the sample. I
asked if they would bring me back. He said “yes.” Even with the symptoms I did
not believe I had Ebola. After all, my contact with Sawyer was minimal. I only
touched his I.V. fluid bag just that once without gloves. The only time I
actually touched him was when I checked his pulse and confirmed him dead, and I
wore double gloves and felt adequately protected.
I told my
parents I had to go with the officials to Yaba and that I would be back that
evening. I wore a white top and a pair of jeans, and I put my iPad and phones
in my bag.
A man opened
the ambulance door for me and moved away from me rather swiftly. Strange
behavior, I thought. They were friendly with me the day before, but that day,
not so. No pleasantries, no smiles. I looked up and saw my mother watching
through her bedroom window.
We soon got
to Yaba. I really had no clue where I was. I knew it was a hospital. I was left
alone in the back of the ambulance for over four hours. My mind was in a whirl.
I didn’t know what to think. I was offered food to eat but I could barely eat
the rice.
The
ambulance door opened and a Caucasian gentleman approached me but kept a little
distance. He said to me, “I have to inform you that your blood tested positive
for Ebola. I am sorry.” I had no reaction. I think I must have been in shock.
He then told me to open my mouth and he looked at my tongue. He said it was the
typical Ebola tongue. I took out my mirror from my bag and took a look and I
was shocked at what I saw. My whole tongue had a white coating, looked furry
and had a long, deep ridge right in the middle. I then started to look at my
whole body, searching for Ebola rashes and other signs as we had been recently
instructed. I called my mother immediately and said, “Mummy, they said I have
Ebola, but don’t worry, I will survive it. Please, go and lock my room now;
don’t let anyone inside and don’t touch anything.” She was silent. I cut the
line.
I was taken
to the female ward. I was shocked at the environment. It looked like an
abandoned building. I suspected it had not been in use for quite a while. As I
walked in, I immediately recognized one of the ward maids from our hospital.
She always had a smile for me but not this time. She was ill and she looked it.
She had been stooling a lot too. I soon settled into my corner and looked
around the room. It smelled of faeces and vomit. It also had a characteristic
Ebola smell to which I became accustomed. Dinner was served – rice and stew.
The pepper stung my mouth and tongue. I dropped the spoon. No dinner that
night.
Dr. David,
the Caucasian man who had met me at the ambulance on my arrival, came in
wearing his full protective ‘hazmat’ suit and goggles. It was fascinating
seeing one live. I had only seen them online. He brought bottles of water and
ORS, the oral fluid therapy which he dropped by my bedside. He told me that 90
percent of the treatment depended on me. He said I had to drink at least 4.5
litres of ORS daily to replace fluids lost in stooling and vomiting. I told him
I had stooled three times earlier and taken Imodium tablets to stop the
stooling. He said it was not advisable, as the virus would replicate the more
inside of me. It was better he said to let it out. He said good night and left.
My parents
called. My uncle called. My husband called crying. He could not believe the
news. My parents had informed him, as I didn’t even know how to break the news
to him.
As I lay on
my bed in that isolation ward, strangely, I did not fear for my life. I was
confident that I would leave that ward some day. There was an inner sense of
calm. I did not for a second think I would be consumed by the disease. That
evening, the symptoms fully kicked in. I was stooling almost every two hours.
The toilets did not flush so I had to fetch water in a bucket from the bathroom
each time I used the toilet. I then placed another bucket beneath my bed for
the vomiting.
On occasion
I would run to the toilet with a bottle of ORS, so that as I was stooling, I
was drinking.
The next day
Monday 4th of August, I began to notice red rashes on my skin particularly on
my arms. I had developed sores all over my mouth. My head was pounding so
badly. The sore throat was so severe I could not eat. I could only drink the
ORS. I took paracetamol for the pain. The ward maid across from me wasn’t doing
so well. She had stopped speaking. I couldn’t even brush my teeth; the sores in
my mouth were so bad. This was a battle for my life but I was determined I
would not die.
Every
morning, I began the day with reading and meditating on Psalm 91. The sanitary
condition in the ward left much to be desired. The whole Ebola thing had caught
everyone by surprise. Lagos State Ministry of Health was doing its best to
contain the situation but competent hands were few. The sheets were not changed
for days. The floor was stained with greenish vomitus and excrement. Dr. David
would come in once or twice a day and help clean up the ward after chatting
with us. He was the only doctor who attended to us. There was no one else at
that time. The matrons would leave our food outside the door; we had to go get
the food ourselves. They hardly entered in the initial days. Everyone was being
careful. This was all so new. I could understand, was this not how we ourselves
had contracted the disease? Mosquitoes were our roommates until they brought us
mosquito nets.
Later that
evening, Dr. David brought another lady into the ward. I recognized her
immediately as Justina Ejelonu, a nurse who had started working at First
Consultants on the 21st of July, a day after Patrick Saywer was admitted. She
was on duty on the day Patrick reported that he was stooling. While she was
attending to him that night, he had yanked off his drip, letting his blood flow
almost like a tap onto her hands. Justina was pregnant and was brought into our
ward bleeding from a suspected miscarriage. She had been told she was there
only on observation. The news that she had contracted Ebola was broken to her
the following day after results of her blood test came out positive. Justina
was devastated and wept profusely – she had contracted Ebola on her first day
at work.My husband started visiting but was not allowed to come close to me. He could only see me from a window at a distance. He visited so many times. It was he who brought me a change of clothes and toiletries and other things I needed because I had not even packed a bag. I was grateful I was not with him at home when I fell ill or he would most certainly have contracted the disease. My retreat at my parents’ home turned out to be the instrumentality God used to shield and save him.
I drank the
ORS fluid like my life depended on it. Then I got a call from my pastor. He had
been informed about my predicament. He called me every single day morning and
night and would pray with me over the phone. He later sent me a CD player, CDs
of messages on faith and healing, and Holy Communion packs through my husband.
My pastor, who also happens to be a medical doctor, encouraged me to monitor
how many times I had stooled and vomited each day and how many bottles of ORS I
had consumed. We would then discuss the disease and pray together. He asked me
to do my research on Ebola since I had my iPad with me and told me that he was
also doing his study. He wanted us to use all relevant information on Ebola to
our advantage. So I researched and found out all I could about the strange
disease that has been in existence for 38 years. My research, my faith, my
positive view of life, the extended times of prayer, study and listening to
encouraging messages boosted my belief that I would survive the Ebola scourge.
There are
five strains of the virus and the deadliest of them is the Zaire strain, which
was what I had. But that did not matter. I believed I would overcome even the
deadliest of strains. Infected patients who succumb to the disease usually die
between 6 to 16 days after the onset of the disease from multiple organ failure
and shock caused by dehydration. I was counting the days and keeping myself
well hydrated. I didn’t intend to die in that ward.
My research
gave me ammunition. I read that as soon as the virus gets into the body, it
begins to replicate really fast. It enters the blood cells, destroys them and
uses those same blood cells to aggressively invade other organs where they
further multiply. Ideally, the body’s immune system should immediately mount up
a response by producing antibodies to fight the virus. If the person is strong
enough, and that strength is sustained long enough for the immune system to
kill off the viruses, the patient is likely to survive. If the virus replicates
faster than the antibodies can handle however, further damage is done to the
organs. Ebola can be likened to a multi-level, multi-organ attack but I had no
intention of letting the deadly virus destroy my system. I drank more ORS. I
remember saying to myself repeatedly, “I am a survivor, I am a survivor.”
I also found
out that a patient with Ebola cannot be re-infected and they cannot relapse
back into the disease as there is some immunity conferred on survivors. My
pastor and I would discuss these findings, interpret them as it related to my
situation and pray together. I looked forward to his calls. They were times of
encouragement and strengthening. I continued to meditate on the Word of God. It
was my daily bread.Shortly after Justina came into the ward, the ward maid, Mrs Ukoh passed on. The disease had gotten into her central nervous system. We stared at her lifeless body in shock. It was a whole 12 hours before officials of W.H.O came and took her body away. The ward had become the house of death. The whole area surrounding her bed was disinfected with bleach. Her mattress was taken and burned.
To contain
the frequent diarrhea, I had started wearing adult diapers, as running to the
toilet was no longer convenient for me. The indignity was quite overwhelming,
but I did not have a choice. My faith was being severely tested. The situation
was desperate enough to break anyone psychologically. Dr. Ohiaeri also called us
day and night, enquiring about our health and the progress we were making. He
sent provisions, extra drugs, vitamins, Lucozade, towels, tissue paper;
everything we needed to be more comfortable in that dark hole we found
ourselves. Some of my male colleagues had also been admitted to the male ward
two rooms away, but there was no interaction with them.
We were
saddened by the news that Jato, the ECOWAS protocol officer to Patrick Sawyer
who had also tested positive, had passed on days after he was admitted.Two more females joined us in the ward; a nurse from our hospital and a patient from another hospital. The mood in the ward was solemn. There were times we would be awakened by the sudden, loud cry from one of the women. It was either from fear, pain mixed with the distress or just the sheer oppression of our isolation.
I kept
encouraging myself. This could not be the end for me. Five days after I was
admitted, the vomiting stopped. A day after that, the diarrhea ceased. I was
overwhelmed with joy. It happened at a time I thought I could no longer stand
the ORS. Drinking that fluid had stretched my endurance greatly.
I knew
countless numbers of people were praying for me. Prayer meetings were being
held on my behalf. My family was praying day and night. Text messages of
prayers flooded my phones from family members and friends. I was encouraged to
press on. With the encouragement I was receiving I began to encourage the
others in the ward. We decided to speak life and focus on the positive. I then
graduated from drinking only the ORS fluid to eating only bananas, to drinking
pap and then bland foods. Just when I thought I had the victory, I suddenly
developed a severe fever. The initial fever had subsided four days after I was
admitted, and then suddenly it showed up again. I thought it was the Ebola. I
enquired from Dr. David who said fever was sometimes the last thing to go, but
he expressed surprise that it had stopped only to come back on again. I was
perplexed.
I discussed
it with my pastor who said it could be a separate pathology and possibly a
symptom of malaria. He promised he would research if indeed this was Ebola or
something else. That night as I stared at the dirty ceiling, I felt a strong
impression that the new fever I had developed was not as a result of Ebola but
malaria. I was relieved. The following morning, Dr. Ohiaeri sent me
antimalarial medication which I took for three days. Before the end of the
treatment, the fever had disappeared.
I began to
think about my mother. She was under surveillance along with my other family
members. I was worried. She had touched my sweat. I couldn’t get the thought off
my mind. I prayed for her. Hours later on Twitter I came across a tweet by
W.H.O saying that the sweat of an Ebola patient cannot transmit the virus at
the early stage of the infection. The sweat could only transmit it at the late
stage.
That settled
it for me. It calmed the storms that were raging within me concerning my
parents. I knew right away it was divine guidance that caused me to see that
tweet. I could cope with having Ebola, but I was not prepared to deal with a
member of my family contracting it from me.
Soon,
volunteer doctors started coming to help Dr. David take care of us. They had
learned how to protect themselves. Among the volunteer doctors was Dr. Badmus,
my consultant in LUTH during my housemanship days. It was good to see a familiar
face among the care-givers. I soon understood the important role these brave
volunteers were playing. As they increased in number, so did the number of
shifts increase and subsequently the number of times the patients could access
a doctor in one day. This allowed for more frequent patient monitoring and
treatment. It also reduced care-giver fatigue. It was clear that Lagos State
was working hard to contain the crisis
Sadly,
Justina succumbed to the disease on the 12th of August. It was a great blow and
my faith was greatly shaken as a result. I commenced daily Bible study with the
other two female patients and we would encourage one another to stay positive
in our outlook though in the natural it was grim and very depressing. My
communion sessions with the other women were very special moments for us all.
On my 10th
day in the ward, the doctors having noted that I had stopped vomiting and
stooling and was no longer running a fever, decided it was time to take my
blood sample to test if the virus had cleared from my system. They took the
sample and told me that I shouldn’t be worried if it comes out positive as the
virus takes a while before it is cleared completely. I prayed that I didn’t
want any more samples collected from me. I wanted that to be the first and last
sample to be tested for the absence of the virus in my system. I called my
pastor. He encouraged me and we prayed again about the test.On the evening of the day Justina passed on, we were moved to the new isolation centre. We felt like we were leaving hell and going to heaven.
We were
conveyed to the new place in an ambulance. It was just behind the old building.
Time would not permit me to recount the drama involved with the dynamics of our
relocation. It was like a script from a science fiction movie. The new building
was cleaner and much better than the old building. Towels and nightwear were
provided on each bed. The environment was serene.
The
following night, Dr. Adadevoh was moved to our isolation ward from her private
room where she had previously been receiving treatment. She had also tested
positive for Ebola and was now in a coma. She was receiving I.V. fluids and
oxygen support and was being monitored closely by the W.H.O doctors. We all
hoped and prayed that she would come out of it. It was so difficult seeing her
in that state. I could not bear it. She was my consultant, my boss, my teacher
and my mentor. She was the imperial lady of First Consultants, full of passion,
energy and competence. I imagined she would wake up soon and see that she was
surrounded by her First Consultants family but sadly it was not to be.
I continued
listening to my healing messages. They gave me life. I literarily played them
hours on end. Two days later, on Saturday the 16th of August, the W.H.O doctors
came with some papers. I was informed that the result of my blood test was
negative for Ebola virus. If I could somersault, I would have but my joints
were still slightly painful. I was free to go home after being in isolation for
exactly 14 days. I was so full of thanks and praise to God. I called my mother
to get fresh clothes and slippers and come pick me. My husband couldn’t stop
shouting when I called him. He was completely overwhelmed with joy.
I was told
however that I could not leave the ward with anything I came in with. I glanced
one last time at my cd player, my valuable messages, my research assistant
a.k.a my iPad, my phones and other items. I remember saying to myself, “I have
life; I can always replace these items.”
I went for a
chlorine bath, which was necessary to disinfect my skin from my head to my
toes. It felt like I was being baptized into a new life as Dr. Carolina, a
W.H.O doctor from Argentina poured the bucket of chlorinated water all over me.
I wore a new set of clothes, following the strict instructions that no part of
the clothes must touch the floor and the walls. Dr. Carolina looked on, making
sure I did as instructed.
I was led
out of the bathroom and straight to the lawn to be united with my family, but
first I had to cut the red ribbon that served as a barrier. It was a symbolic
expression of my freedom. Everyone cheered and clapped. It was a little but
very important ceremony for me. I was free from Ebola! I hugged my family as
one who had been liberated after many years of incarceration. I was like
someone who had fought death face to face and come back to the land of the
living.We had to pass through several stations of disinfection before we reached the car. Bleach and chlorinated water were sprayed on everyone’s legs at each station. As we made our way to the car, we walked past the old isolation building. I could hardly recognize it. I could not believe I slept in that building for 10 days. I was free! Free of Ebola. Free to live again. Free to interact with humanity again. Free from the sentence of death.
My parents
and two brothers were under surveillance for 21 days and they completed the
surveillance successfully. None of them came down with a fever. The house had
been disinfected by Lagos State Ministry of Health soon after I was taken to
the isolation centre. I thank God for shielding them from the plague.
My recovery
after discharge has been gradual but progressive. I thank God for the support
of family and friends. I remember my colleagues who we lost in this battle. Dr.
Adadevoh my boss, Nurse Justina Ejelonu, and the ward maid, Mrs. Ukoh were
heroines who lost their lives in the cause to protect Nigeria. They will never
be forgotten.
I commend
the dedication of the W.H.O doctors, Dr. David from Virginia, USA, who tried
several times to convince me to specialize in infectious diseases, Dr. Carolina
from Argentina who spoke so calmly and encouragingly, Mr. Mauricio from Italy
who always offered me apples and gave us novels to read. I especially thank the
volunteer Nigerian doctors, matrons and cleaners who risked their lives to take
care of us. I must also commend the Lagos State government, and the state and
federal ministries of health for their swift efforts to contain the virus. To
all those prayed for me, I cannot thank you enough. And to my First Consultants
family, I say a heartfelt thank you for your dedication and for your support
throughout this very difficult period.
I still
believe in miracles. None of us in the isolation ward was given any
experimental drugs or so-called immune boosters. I was full of faith yet
pragmatic enough to consume as much ORS as I could even when I wanted to give
up and throw the bottles away. I researched on the disease extensively and read
accounts of the survivors. I believed that even if the mortality rate was 99%,
I would be part of the 1% who survive.Early detection and reporting to hospital is key to patient survival. Please do not hide yourself if you have been in contact with an Ebola patient and have developed the symptoms. Regardless of any grim stories one may have heard about the treatment of patients in the isolation centre, it is still better to be in the isolation ward with specialist care, than at home where you and others will be at risk.
I read that
Dr. Kent Brantly, the American doctor who contracted Ebola in Liberia and was
flown out to the United States for treatment was being criticized for
attributing his healing to God when he was given the experimental drug, Zmapp.
I don’t claim to have all the answers to the nagging questions of life. Why do
some die and some survive? Why do bad things happen to good people? Where is
God in the midst of pain and suffering? Where does science end and God begin?
These are issues we may never fully comprehend on this side of eternity. All I
know is that I walked through the valley of the shadow of death and came out
unscathed.
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