MY SISTER’S DEATH WAS PREVENTABLE!
“Ada, Am I now in the teaching hospital ?” , my sister asked me in a faint ,weak voice.
“Yes”, I replied. “We are in the emergency room of the hospital.”
“Please tell the doctors that I want to live. I don’t want to die”, She said to me
“You will not die, my sister”, I replied, with an almost cracked voice “You will live through and give your testimony”.
“I am scared, Ada”, She confessed. “Convince them to help me”.
“They are already helping you, Ify baby. Be strong for me”. I attempted to reassure her , using her pet name.
“I hope my reassurance will not be in vain”, I thought to myself. “I am scared too, for my sister’s life but can’t tell her that. I need to be the source of strength to her in this very scary situation”.
Ifeoma is my younger sister. We are the only girls in a family of five children. Her husband died 2 months ago in a Road traffic accident. This is her 3rd pregnancy; the last two were successfully delivered in the hospital through caesarean section. Her kids are now 4 and 2 respectively. After the last delivery, doctors instructed her that all subsequent deliveries should be through caesarean section and must be in a specialized hospital for adequate management and to prevent complications.
But somehow, the devil played a fast one. In her 8 month of pregnancy, her neighbor convinced her to visit a “delivery center”. The neighbor apparently told her that the center run by a retired hospital staff, has helped many women deliver normally without having to have another Caesarean Section. All these were happening without her informing me or any member of our family.
She had been in labour for three days in the delivery centre before I got to know from her friend, Nkechi. When I got to the so called delivery center, I promptly made arrangement for her to be brought to this teaching hospital.
“I sincerely hope my intervention was not too late”, I muttered to myself. “I honestly hope she survives because if she doesn’t, I don’t know how to break this unpleasant news to our parents and siblings or what to tell her young children.”
Within 20 minutes of admission into the hospital, she was wheeled into the theatre for surgery in a bid to save her life.
“Please God help her and keep her alive”, I said softly to myself, while sitting in the waiting room.
I can still remember what the doctor told me when I was giving consent for the surgery. “Your sister has a torn uterus and is bleeding profusely internally. This is because she refused to heed advice and decided against coming for caesarean section. The baby is already dead. All our efforts will be to try and save her. She has lost a lot of blood and we don’t know if she will make it, however, we will do our best to help her”, He concluded before heading into the theatre.
An hour later, the Doctor came out from the theatre and headed towards me.
“We did everything we could”, he said. “Her Uterus was very badly torn and she lost a lot of blood. In the end, we lost her despite our best efforts. I am very sorry for your loss, Ma.”
Tears streamed down my eyes as I listened to the doctor.
“So, my sister is dead!” I said softly sobbing.
“Yes, she is. I am sorry”, the doctor replied
I sat down on the seat, devastated and crying uncontrollably until Nkechi took me away from the waiting room towards the hospital exit.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
©2018
This is dedicated to relatives and friends of our patients who endure and carry the burden of some very poor decisions made by our patients. Keep it up and continue to be the pillar(s) upon which our patients will always lean on. It is well.
