The Fight of Faith: The Battle Continues

I  am sobbing uncontrollably. Elizabeth and Uju are trying to comfort me as much as they can. My husband is right there, trying to comfort me. I am shivering violently. Nobody but me wants to agree that something is wrong with the port.The port site looks good at face value but if you try to touch it, I would scream.  Dr. Chi comes to see me and I complain to her. She is concerned about not having enough immunity. She prescribes Neupagen to stimulate white blood cell production. That manages to push my white blood cell count to 2.2. I would need to be around 4 for any port removal to take place.

It’s night time and I cannot sleep. Banky goes home to stay with the children. There is so much sleep you can get with nurses coming to check for vitals or trying to give you meds. I was also in so much pain. I cannot pray, I cannot sing, I cannot make a single confession. However, I can saturate my atmosphere with the word of God. I launch the Bible app, and listen to the book of Mark. Listening to the miracles Jesus performed made my faith come alive. It was all I needed to sustain me. My blood pressure was not improving and my temperature was bordering around 100 Fahrenheit. At one point, the medical team was contemplating on transferring me to the ICU if certain vital signs did not improve.

I remember 2 doctors coming in to check on me. They think I am sleeping but I can hear the whispers. I glance to see the names of the doctors. I can only see what looks like Dr. Patel. He does not look amused. He is having a back and forth with the other doctor.

“Clearly the port is infected”, he says

“She is in pain. The only pain is coming from the port site. Why is it taking so long to take this thing out?” he demands.

“Well…., there is a concern that she is neutropenic and her white blood count is still low”,  the other doctor responds.

Finally, someone gets it! A part of me wanted to stand up and hug him but I was all plugged to monitors and iv fluids, oxygen tank and vancomycin. It was a firs trough night but through it all, God’s comforting presence came through His word. Bankole arrives early in the morning to bring me some food. The only thing I can tolerate is pap and moin moin. Not long after, Dr. Froio arrives.Dr. Froio walks in with a charming smile. Even if I wanted to be angry and charge at him, he arrested me right there.

“I am not happy with you”, I said

“I know, and you have every right to be,” he responds

We are going back and forth and I tell him, without batting an eye that he must take out the port. He checks, and tries to touch the port site. The pain is so unbearable he can barely examine further.

“Withthis level of pain, this port needs to come out no doubt, do you want me to take it out?” said Dr, Froio.

“If you don’t, I will take out myself”, I responded.

That was it. The port will be out that morning. He just needed to finish some surgeries, get me on the OR schedule and I would be free. Bankole was still trying to convince me to reconsider my hypothesis about the port. I was not having it. If he could live in my body for one second, he would be saying the same thing. The pain was so bad I could not lie on my back. It was so bad my heart was starting to beat unevenly. It was so bad; my chest had collapsed from the rigors. It was time to take it out. Yes, it may have looked okay on the surface, but something was brewing on the inside.