24TH NOVEMBER❤️

I always said I’d save this story for Forbes, but I’ve been AWOL for too long. So take this piece as my apology.

Sometimes you hear a song and wish you could go back to the very moment you heard it for the first time, nostalgia does that to you. Well, not this time. I don’t want to relive the first moment I heard CashApp by Bella Shmurda, but it remains what I’d call a canon memory.

“Scar her.”

Those were the words that greeted me that morning.

“Madame, I’ve thought about other solutions, but I don’t want her to have complications in the future. I’m afraid… we have to scar her.” My doctor said apologetically.

“Scar her, as far as there is life,” my mum replied immediately. No hesitation. No questions. Just a mother choosing life for her child.

I didn’t know how to feel. It meant I would never know my stomach without a scar. At fifteen, that felt huge. But better scarred and alive, right? So I held on to faith.

It was the 24th of November, 2020, around 7 a.m at Military Hospital Yaba, on a wheelchair, in a hospital gown, connected to different IVs, waiting to be wheeled in for a surgery I didn’t know I needed until 6 p.m. the previous day.

 I had cried that night when my mum stepped out to register me for admission. I made sure not to cry in front of my mum, because I had to be strong for both of us. But I couldn’t understand why I was back for another major procedure less than two weeks after the first, all because of negligence of the Nigerian health care system.

So when she stepped out and finally broke down in Dr. Blessing’s (I wish I knew her surname) arms as she took my vitals not for fear but genuine exhaustion. I made her promise me that after that surgery, I would never feel that kind of pain again. She promised. And I trusted God. He had never failed me before.

As I waited to be wheeled into the theater , Dr. Blessing handed me her phone and airpods to listen to music because she wanted something to distract me, I chose Afrobeats. Something in me felt that if I listened to gospel, my awareness would heighten and fear might creep in. So I played Koroba by Tiwa Savage and held a full concert in my head.

In the middle of this concert, Dr. Blessing asked if I’d heard this new song. I said no. then played CashApp.

CashApp would not be an ideal "comfort" song any day but in that moment, it gave me all the comfort I needed. I don’t know what exactly it did to me, maybe the beat, maybe the ad-libs or maybe just the timing but it took me to the exact mental space I needed. Free. Light. Unafraid. I bopped so hard in my wheelchair that my consultant stopped to talk to me, clearly impressed by how unafraid I was.

Meanwhile in all this, my mum had slipped out to cry. Everyone around me was trying to smile, but their teary eyes betrayed them. I asked for her minutes before I entered the theatre, she returned with her eyes red and I remember saying to her “I’m going into that theatre and I’m coming out. Just pray for me.”

 I had promised her I wasn’t going anywhere because ironically, my dad had passed that week eleven years ago and Life couldn’t be cruel enough to pull the same stunt twice.

All I needed were prayers. There’s a love language in “pray for me” that people don’t talk about enough because although I had been dialoguing with God on that wheelchair, I hadn't been able to "pray" and that's where the intercession of my loved ones played a big role.

Hours later, I woke up being wheeled out of the theatre. Pain was everywhere but Yahweh kept His promise. And for me, the worst was over.

Meeting my scars for the first time was epic. The medical staples made me laugh because they looked exactly like pins from my small, cute pink stapler and my fear of carrying a "scar" for the rest of my life was eased, special thanks to my surgeon’s meticulous hands. 

Fifteen-year-old me wasn’t sure how she felt about living with a permanent line on her body forever… but today, I can proudly say I have one of the prettiest scars in the world, and I am not afraid to show it off. Five years later, my “fresh L,” as I call it, has become one of my favourite things about myself. A constant Proof of survival. Strength. Purpose.  

It’s been five years since that morning. 

Five years since I first heard CashApp. 

Five years since I got my scars. 

Five years since two surgeries rearranged my life out of nowhere.

Five years since Yahweh revealed purpose in the middle of pain.

Five years ago, I was in SS2, lying sick in Military Hospital Yaba wondering why.

Five years later, I’m in 400 level, lying on my hostel bed a few days after my successful I.T. defense, overwhelmed with gratitude for how far I’ve come.

And honestly?

I still can’t believe 2020 was five years ago.

Can you?

SIDE NOTE

Sometimes stories don’t arrive when we want them to, they come when we’re finally ready to tell them. I have been trying to write this article for the past fourteen days. I thought it would come on the 24th of November, to make it more poetic but it just wasn’t flowing. Maybe it waited for December on purpose. My birth month. A month that feels like a deep breath after everything.

Either way, I’m glad it’s here. And I’m glad you’re here too. I missed you silly and i hope i get to write to you again very soon.

Lots of Love,

IMAX💕