"I need air", I told myself. Not that I had been in a vacuum, the aristocratic and
sophisticated-looking house I was in was more than ventilated. I just needed to
get out and breathe.
The twins had just fallen asleep after I read them a bedtime
story, Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. They kept asking questions like
"Dad, when will mom be back?" "Will she come back for our
birthday?" I set out.
I pause, startled by the
unexpected jingling of chains and the successive barking that followed. I
glance towards the direction of the disturbance, it was the dog in the next
compound performing its vigilante duties.
In this darkest hour before dawn, when most people are safely
tucked in their beds, it was a startling and unwelcoming intrusion.
I resume my walking, becoming more aware of the tears streaming
down my face.
How much I miss her! Her smiles, laughter, unexpected angry
outbursts that made us scamper to safety and the way she ordered everybody
around. She was nicknamed boss lady by the kids.
We met at a friend's party. I was discussing the happenings in the
stock exchange market with a broker-friend of mine when I suddenly heard Tomi
laugh. I couldn't help but look.
I saw this absolutely stunning woman in her late twenties. I was
later told she was into Estate Management. She had this presence. I felt 'the'
thrill...then and there, I knew she was the one.
The wedding ceremony was fabulous. Our joy knew no bounds when the
twins arrived, Folakemi and Folagbade. The money was steady, life was good.
Until two and half years ago.....
On a sunday night after lecturing me on compromise, I agreed to
watching her favourite show, Every Woman, instead of a football match. During
the programme, she saw horrible pictures of breasts with cancer and learnt how to
perform a self breast-examination.
A week later, after having her bath, she told me she felt a lump
in her left breast. I laughed and told her she was it was her overactive
imagination initiated by that episode of Every Woman. She agreed and laughed at
my teasing.
Later that week, we went to visit her mom. Mama Tomi, as her mom was
popularly called, was ecstatic on seeing her only child. "Omo mi, Ajike,
Abeke, Agbeke, Asake", she called
out Tomi's yoruba pet names, in her sing-song voice. After exchanging
pleasantries with my mother-in-law, I was politely excused.
They went upstairs for another of their routine mother-daughter
chat. I later found out she had told her mom about the lump she supposedly
felt.
"Ok ma, we will be
there on saturday. I'll take 'Kemi and 'Gbade to my friend, Busola's place...
Yes... Amen ma ...ok ma... Thank you, mom. Have a nice day. Alright, I
will", I heard Tomi say the next
day as I stepped out of the shower.
She told me her mum said she had a feeling that the lump was not
ordinary, but the work of the enemies. The same enemies that killed Tomi's
father, and that she would take us somewhere. We agreed to it, mostly because
Mama Tomi, wouldn't take no for an answer.
The journey to Baba Awogbemi's traditional home took us two hours
out of town. His 'consulting room' was poorly-lit by traditional lamps,
decorated with traditional mats, clothes and calabashes. Sitting in a corner of
the room, was an evil-looking creature made from stone, with feathers, cowries and pieces of cloth
smeared with dried blood. "Ologundudu
oooo.... Alapa oooo." He shouted
before reeling off incantations in Yoruba, thereafter, making noises that
sounded more like shrieks and the howling of a wolf.
I remember glancing at my Swiss-made Fossil Chronograph watch ,
and thinking about leaving. I was outraged that I had to put up with all this
because of a harmless lump, if it indeed existed. He ended up telling us Mama Tomi had
suspected; Tomi's father's enemies had decided she was next. We were given
soaps for Tomi to take her bath with, and told to come back for a cream that
would dissolve the lump.
During the next visit, we were given herbal mixtures, a protective
bracelet and a cream that smelled like rotten egg. Tomi followed Baba
Awogbemi's instructions religiously.
8 months later, we decided to check it out with the doctor. It had
become bigger. Also, there was the bloody nipple discharge. I
remember her worried face as she related the doctor's appointment, she should
have gone earlier, immediately the lump was detected. She was to have a biopsy
done to confirm if it was cancer.
"The biopsy showed a cancerous growth, invasive ductal
carcinoma."
"Cancer?!!"
she shouted in the doctor's office, almost hysterical.
"Yes, Mrs. Odutola,
you have breast cancer." the doctor replied.
I had been uneasy since the day before that the doctor had told me
to come with my wife to see him about the result of the biopsy.
Other words were said: Surgery. Chemotherapy. Radiation.
It's funny how life doesn’t prepare you for situations like this.
No lesson on facing trials and troubles can ever prepare you for the
roller-coaster of emotions that will envelope you. I felt numb.
I'll never forget that I held her hand and said, "Together we'll be
ok." I had desperately wanted to
believe that.
Explaining to the children wasn't easy. How was I to tell our eight-year-olds
that their mum was sick and possibly going to die?
Mama Tomi couldn't handle the news. She believed her enemies had
caught up with her at last!
Tomi underwent the treatments, I was determined to give her the
best, money was not an issue.
Bad news was that the cancer had spread to her lungs, later her
organs were failing...
Her mother had a heart attack and passed away. Tomi had to be
wheeled to her mother's burial, she could no longer walk.
It was hard watching her go through so much pain, grief and not being
able to do something, anything to take it away.
Throughout our fight, we were showered with love from family and
friends. We had joined a strong cancer support group at the beginning, in the
quest to gather information.
She was strong, she fought, until she was tired. Too tired to
fight and at last, it ended. She succumbed. She died.
Here I am, fours months after trying to be both Mom and Dad to the
kids. I wish she left me a manual....
My experience has made me join the fight against breast cancer. It
was my wife. It could be anybody, it's more than one woman's struggle...
Modupeoluwa Omisore.
Medical student. Freelance Writer.
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