19/07/2020
Would I give up , a few years from now?
Will I be strong , someway, somehow ?
~ Dreamer Girl by Asa
2014-till date ~ Queeneth's Confidence Story
I could finally walk again. The process of learning how to walk was an intriguing one. After being confined to a wheelchair for months, my bones had finally deemed it the right time to heal and since the plaster was unavoidable beginning to emit an unpleasant odor due to an unpreventable contact with water, I visited the hospital in Nigeria where I usually used to go for a check up to get a new cast.
Then, I saw my legs for the first time in four to five months; strands of hair had grown on like an ensemble on it and the skin underneath, a rusty kind of brown; the skin was peeling constantly, more like shedding and it was seemingly frail.
It was so liberating to see my legs again in a long while even though it was just for a few minutes because I had lost count of the number of times in which I made attempts to have a glimpse of what my legs looked like even when I had a cast on but all I saw was dark, void depths, hidden behind the plaster.
At times, my legs would itch so badly, especially the part where I felt the surgical scar was and I would have to use a broomstick to poke into my leg just so I could itch it and sometimes, it was pleasingly pleasurable when the broomstick locates the right spot to itch however, I had sustained an injury from doing that once.
Getting the cast removed was a real dose of fresh air for my poor legs but there was a renewal of a cast which did not last for so long anyway till my physiotherapist ascertained that it was time for me to start walking!!!
The casts were out and were gone forever! I was so thankful to God because, having those casts pulled out meant so many beautiful things! I could at least walk now in the school premises because I already started going to school after some months but I was still on the wheelchair and it was really a lot. Well, at least for me.
I mean, my classmates were willing to always help me out but I was the one who was always feeling insecure and unsafe; I always felt I was bothering everyone so much, but being able to walk, no matter how was a mighty relief. It obviously was going to be a gradual process since my newly operated legs was not accustomed to the concept of walking just yet so I had to start with the use of crutches; walking aids which I was totally fine with.
I had two friends; Kareemat and Abiola. They both were the closest friends I had and they used to help me with so many things; from helping me with my books whenever we had a class to attend that was not situated in the classroom, from even taking me to the toilet in my wheelchair and to other necessary places I had to go to. They made my life a lot easier and I was really thankful for them.
Using crutches was liberating. It was an amazing sign of growth and a convincing evidence of the entire healing process. It gave me a lot of hope for the day I would be able to walk without them; the day felt really close by.
And truly, that day came!!!! Just like a dream!!
It was the cutest, yet the most ridiculous day ever. It was exactly like a one year old kid that was learning how to use his limbs for the first time only that in my case, I was relearning since I had lost the ability to walk ever since the surgery.
My dad and the physiotherapist were in the living room with me that night. I could even remember the clothes I was wearing to show how iconic that day was. I was intrigued and could not wait to use my new legs. My physiotherapist took me by the hand as it was time for me to try the exercise, locomotion.
My knees were all shaky and my steps were very fragile, exactly like that of a baby. I tried to press my foot hard on the ground as I took each step for fear of falling. My physiotherapist held me by the hand all through to ensure I was taking good steps and whenever he left me to walk on my own. He would stand next to my dad at the close end of the living room just for the tendency of me falling on to the floor, it would be easy for them to get a quick hold of me.
Then it got the point in my life where wheelchairs, casts, crutches and even a physiotherapist's helping hands were no longer needed. Yes! Yes! I could walk on my own, with my brand new, medically corrected set of legs, and no longer the old ones that were so bow, that even my head had began to look bigger than my entire body, no more legs that looked like wide, exaggerated brackets!!
It was and still is the biggest miracle to have ever happened in my life!! The highlight of my whole life!! Yes, the journey and the entire process was rough and tough; almost unbearable and definitely nerve wrecking too, but was it with it?!
ABSOLUTELY YES!
The doctors sure did an amazing job and God in heaven deserved all of the glory for making the surgery a success because a while after, I'd read about the story of a Nigerian girl on the newspapers who died in the exact same hospital where I had gotten my surgery because of a minute negligent act during her surgery. It was crazy and unquestionable, the mercy of God over every individual's life.
The possibility to die during a surgery is realer than anything but the reason why some people live and some die after a surgery is something that God alone understands.
It was a big thumbs up for myself as well for staying so strong, fearless and perseverant through it all even when there were obviously days when being strong and perseverant was so not worth it. I bore it all and now, I could walk without my knees nearly touching the floor in a bowed motion. I could walk with good legs, just like every one else!
WOWW!!
(Before my corrective surgery)
(After my corrective surgery)
They said transformation stories are the best and I could not agree any less because indeed, it felt like I had an entirely new life. I mean, I knew I was still going to have another surgery later on in my life since the nature of the disease requires bouts and bouts of surgical processes but, I was fine with it.
But with the way I looked compared to how I used to look, I honestly felt very brand new; I knew my healing was here and it was here to stay for a long time. What could be more victorious a feeling than that?
The first I went to the church after the surgery, I went with my family so we could do a special thanksgiving to God. We all wore the snake Ankara prints down in different styles anyway just to sort of exaggerate our bond as a family.
Of course, everyone was happy to see me and were eager to hear me testify about God's goodness in my life and I was given the microphone so I could speak. My speech was better than I had thought it would be, I sang a song of praise to the Lord and It even made people cry.
I was brand new and healed; transformed and sharpened. The world was waiting to me to do exploits and greats things with it and my new life came with a lot of lessons that I had to learn and so many attributes to imbibe.
The first thing I needed to learn was the fact that, nothing absolutely was wrong with me physically and I was perfect, just the way I was. I mean, if I could master that simply fact, then I could deal with insecurities and low self esteem because insecurities in itself are a perverse form of pride. You know you look good and you're doing just great but the desire to always know what other people think about you is what births those insecurities. I mean, if you know you're good looking, do you necessarily need an extra affirmation from other people?
So, the truest antidote to insecurities is knowing and believing in-depth that nothing on earth is wrong with you and honestly, I did an amazing job in learning and absorbing that fact because I did just whatever the heck I wanted to do without ever thinking of my legs as a barrier or an obstacle.
I participated in public speeches very often at school and in the church. Instead of bothering about what people would think when they observe my manner of walking as I walk onto the stage, I even cherished the attention I always got on the contrary.
I participated in school debates and I went as far as going for the post of a prefect in school that I didn't win though but I lived an amazing life being confident and unbothered about my physical outlook. I won prizes and did well at school. I was happy and blessed.
Another thing I also had to learnt to be cautious of was the self pity mentality. It was so dangerous to the extent that, even when you are wallowing in it, you would not know until you start exhibiting the traits of what you have imbibed.
In as much as I knew I was peculiar and beautiful just the way I was, the tendency to always feel like people ought to be extra kind or extra nice to me simply because of my legs was so existent. In as much as I truly had a peculiarity, I should never ever expect someone to do me a favor when I do not deserve it simply because I was different from other people.
I had to learn that I can only get what I deserve and that's that. Expecting someone to be super nice and kind to me because of my legs was a mighty sign of the self-pity mentality. If I wanted to be confident and secure then I had to be independent too.
I only realized my mistake when someone called me out for it. I had only met this man once and that was what I was trying to create a bank account for myself and a week later, when I called the man on the phone for an update on the process of creating my bank account, he could not remember who I was on the instant so I told him my name and described myself as the girl who uses crutches; something similar to that and then he said to me,
"Why would you describe yourself like that?!"
And that was when it hit me but I was grateful for learning and unlearning because those two were the basic elements of growth in itself.
Then, years passed by and it got to the point in my life where I had to take my final exams; the time was drawing near. It was closing time and I was waiting lazily by the school hall when I saw my mum come in through the main entrance gate of the school to pick me up from school.
Of course, I wasn't expecting to hear much from her asides from the normal exchange of pleasantries but when she gave me a look that I wasn't too sure I liked but I swallowed hard trying my hardest to calm down, and possibly beg my heart to stop thumping so loudly in my chest but she called my name, "Lape" the abbreviation she gave for my name specially; Ojuolape.
Now, I was scared. I detested it when people called my name like that. It made me scared, clueless and it always had me on the edge of my seat.
"Your dad and I want you to study law." She said in Yoruba, dropping the hardest bomb I've ever gotten in a long while.
LAW?!! What on earth???