My True Story Of Survival. (CNF)

It felt just like yesterday, I mean the very first time I stood up on my feet to walk after being bedridden for months. It was with the aid of my brother and mum, you know, when you are just teaching a toddler to walk. I wanted to let go of them and try walking on my own, but I couldn't; it felt as if I would fall, and I couldn't go many steps. But then I was very happy. On my way back to my bed that very day, I can remember one of my nurses smiling at me as she said, "Take it slow, dear, ok."
I smiled back at her and replied weakly, "Thanks ma'am. I'm just happy I could move; I don't want to slow down."

You see that which you just read above? It might look little or small, but that was the high for me. You will have to know how far I've come to really understand it.

Months earlier, I was bedridden to the extent that I had bedsores and still had some lined-up surgery to undergo. My only view was the wall or the ceiling above. Pain seemed to have become a part of me. I can very well remember one evening when a friend of my mom, after hearing all I had been through and still had to go through, whispered to my mom and asked,

"Will he really overcome this?"

"Hopefully" that was my mum's response. It's obvious she's tired too, but then, as a mother, she's still trying to be strong.

When I heard what she asked my mom, I felt some burning sensation inside of me; this shouldn't have been me, I, Jesuferanmi of all people, the funny, playful, and cheerful boy. Yet, I find myself in this situation, pale, sick, angry, scared, tired, and all....

At a time, it was a daily blood test and scan; as time went on, it began to turn into things I do like thrice in a day. This doctor comes and prescribes a new drug and injection to take with a test to do, and then another comes with another and asks to go do a scan or X-ray and then to the theater for another surgery. It was really draining financially, emotionally, mentally.... There are times I hear children just doing their thing outside my window. I can't even sit up to see them; all I can do is imagine what they were doing and align it with what they were saying. It felt like the world was moving on without me in the picture. And that was my lowest low, yeah, coming to realize that it's my story, yet I couldn't do anything; I was just like a spectator.

One particular evening, I had been scheduled for another surgery the following day. I was just on my bed thinking when one of my doctors came by, and there I experienced another form of high. He brought with him some of the things I would be needing for surgeries; they were the things that had been written out for us to buy, but at that time, my parents had exhausted every penny; they had even run into millions of debts. I looked at him, and tears dropped from my eyes. I couldn't say thank you; I didn't know how best to appreciate him.

He patted me on my arm and asked me to calm down.

"Feranmi, it's okay, huh?" He said, then continued, "We all have done all that we can; we will keep trying our best, but then, all depends on you."

I was a little confused as I managed to ask, "On me? My body's weak..."

"No, I mean the rest depends on you, on your will."

It sounded off; I didn't really grasp what he meant, but something about the tone of his voice stuck. For the very first time in months, I requested my phone myself. They've always asked and begged me to play games, watch movies, watch skits online, and the like, just to lighten up my mood; I wouldn't even budge. But that evening, I asked for it, not to do any of those, though. I went and began reading my old messages and listened to voice notes from when I was hale and hearty. And that evening, I cried. This time it wasn't my regular kind of crying that left me still burdened. Nah, I cried it all out that day.

The surgery was a success. On the third day, I told them I would love to stand up and walk; everyone thought it was a joke. Finally, the nurses helped me up. I stood for just a few seconds, and my legs gave me away. But then, I tasted and experienced what it was like to stand on your feet again. That was the event that preceded the first paragraph of this write-up.

Recovery wasn't that fast, nor was it so easy. I fell, experienced pain, murmured, groaned, and all, but I was healing, and I kept advancing, and each step became a sentence in my new story. I began to experience what it was like to walk by myself, to stand without aid. Likewise, I knew what the sunlight felt like again, I could eat, and as time went on, I began gaining back some weight.

After some weeks, my brother asked me what I really felt like eating, and I told him. He looked at me because I haven't been eating that much. "You must make sure to eat it if I go out to get it for you." He said

"Say no more, bro." I teased him.

"Wow, that's the best thing I've heard from you in months." He said, laughing.

And that was another high I didn't really know I'd missed.

Like you would have rightly guessed, I left the hospital a different person. That illness had really dealt with me; it taught me a lot of things that could be of use and applicable in everyday life and all spheres of life. That sickness helped scrape off pride and replaced it with an act of gratitude.

There are times people see me smiling and all dressed up and assume I've had an easy ride in life. I'm not the type to start saying stories and explain myself, nah. But I can tell you for free that I have experienced the highs and lows, and life has shown me that there are times you smile, sometimes you cry, sometimes you crawl, and at times you're on your feet dancing.

A friend of mine who knew about all these experiences of mine asked me a question earlier this year. He said, "Feranmi, if you could erase that sickness part from your memories, would you?"

It was a very deep question. I thought it through, smiled, and responded, "No, it did break me, but then, it has helped me to become a better person."

And that's the truth; it has really helped transform me. These days when people look at me and say, "You're glowing o." I just smiled back at them and thought, if only they knew the story.

The highs and the lows both came, and I wasn't saved, destroyed, or healed by either of the two; rather, they both made me whole.

All pictures are mine.

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