“But all they do is cut legs there…”
2021 was a rough year for me. Up until December, I struggled a lot. I recently posted about this (if you will be gracious enough to check my previous publication). I had all these plans for 2022 and how it was going to be such a great new start for me. It did not start that way. Again, God’s plans.
I have often asked myself, "Have I truly been tested? Am I truly beloved by God, or am I not one of His chosen? Are the obstacles I have faced mere tests, or am I simply underestimating them because I have managed to overcome them?" I find it comforting to be able to have conversations with myself. If you are wondering why I’m thinking about being tested, that’s because as Muslims the Qur’an teaches us that we would go through trials in this life and also overcome them with patience, perseverance and prayers because God does not burden us more than we can bear.
Anyway, safe to say I really did get tested in a big big way on the evening of the first day of 2022. I remember for a split second I thought, “why me?” and then I dismissed it because why not me? How am I better than those who have gone through the same and even worse? I think more than anything, this line of thinking has grounded me and helped me stay positive and be extra patient through all my ordeals.
It was barely 7pm on the evening of the first of January and I was journeying back from Abeokuta where I work. Almost home, I took a jolly ride on a motorcycle to convey me home. I had my head in my phone, watching a YouTube series by Naima B. Roberts. She was interviewing Mufti Menk. I heard this screeching sound and knew it was an accident. I remember thinking in my head in Yoruba “wow, motor ti gbayan (someone has been hit)”. I didn’t even realise it was me at first. Next thing I know, I’m off the bike, flying in the air, and saying in my head “wait, that’s me. I’ve just been hit. I’m in the air oh. Mehn, this is what an accident looks like oh. Oh wow, I’m on the floor”. I promise you I thought all of those things to myself as I was landing on the floor.
A bus had left its own lane, hit the bike I was on, and then proceeded to run away.
When I fell, I paused to be sure I was still here; alive. I found out I was, and then started to worry about dying before I could inform my loved ones that I’d been injured. Then I proceeded to worry about bothering my parents about this news, they didn’t deserve any sad news. I remember yelling continuously “Laa illah ila Allah (there is no god except Allah) and La hawla wa la kuwwa ila biLlah (there is no power or strength except by Allah)”. The pain was almost instant. I raised my head and could see my dress was torn. My sneakers had fallen off from the hard fall I took. My sunglasses and nose mask were off. My bags and phone were scattered on the road. My stockings were torn and I could see blood gushing from the heel of my left foot and the flesh there along with that part of my socks were torn off, on the floor. I could also see that the lower part of my left Calf, very close to my ankle was broken and injured and was now looking funny. My lower calf and foot was facing away from the rest of my leg. I remember thinking to myself in that moment “I’m in trouble; big trouble”. People had surrounded me at this point and I was covered in sand.
They were such good people. They brought my things that had flown off along with me, including my phone and I called my mum to inform her I had been hit. They tried to lift me and make me stand but I have watched way too many episodes of Grey’s Anatomy to allow them do so. I told them not to but I managed to sit upright and one woman offered her legs as support for my back. They were really really good people. My mum, brother and my dad’s friend came to pick me up not long after as I was very close to the house; I think about 5 minutes in fact. We drove to our family hospital where our doctor was waiting already. As we drove in, I saw my dad come in as well. He saw my dislodged lower leg and started wailing, really wailing and nearly falling to the ground. That really broke my heart.
It was hard, we struggled, but we managed to get me inside on a wheel chair. My wounds were cleaned out as I was covered in so much sand from my fall and then I had to be stitched up. I do not remember ever screaming that much in my life before. I do not remember ever being in that much pain in my life before. It felt like the stitching would never end. I kept saying “that’s not all? there’s still more? ”. It was crazy! Apparently, asides from my calf, my knee had burst open and needed stitches. My heel was injured from one end to the other end and also needed stitches. I had bruises all over that needed tending to as well. It was overwhelming to say the least. My lower leg was shifted back to its position and my fracture was packed. I remember telling the Doctor that my thigh was hurting terribly and it was reddening and he said it must be the impact of the break in my calf. That didn’t sound like it to me though. Anyway, the stitching and tending to ended and I asked to make ablution and observe Salah (obligatory prayers). The Doctor said I’d have an x-ray done the next morning. It was hard to sleep and I barely did and at midnight, I left messages for my friends to let them know I had been in an accident.
The next day, I was ready to go for the x-ray, or so I thought. I was moved into the car and moving me was hellish and so so painful! My Dad cried so much (at this point, I hope I have convinced you enough that I’m my Dad’s favourite, haha!). So there I am in the car, waiting to be taken for an x-ray, and my Mum’s friend who was with me says “we’re not taking you for an x-ray, we’re taking you to Igbobi”. Here’s the crazy part, up until this moment, I had not shed a single tear. Not when I thought the pain would make me run mad, not when I was getting stitched up, no. All I did was scream really loud until this point. The moment I heard the word Igbobi, I wept like a child. My best friend was outside the car and I called to her and said “they are taking me to Igbobi. But all they do is cut legs there. What does that mean for me?” And then we began to cry together all over again. As I type this, I’m actually laughing so hard because thinking back to that moment and how far I’ve come now, it’s so so hilarious that we thought that way.
And so I was taken to the National Orthopaedic Hospital, Igbobi, Lagos…
Click here to read part 2: https://link.medium.com/fSq7Rpbyrwb
