SPOILT AT CHURCH
The atmosphere at Crystal Medical center was tense, as Kike’s agitated parents paced from one end of the reception to the other.
Immediately they arrived at the hospital, the Doctor and Nurses started working tiredlessly to resuscitate Kike; who was semi-conscious. The parents and siblings were refused entry into the room where she was kept, even after much persuasion.
The attending Doctor; a young, lanky and tall individual, who looked too young to be a Doctor, gave firm instruction that no one should be allowed into the room.
They sweated! They prayed! They cried!
Dropping herself on the floor of the hospital, Mrs. Johnson called on the Almighty to safe her daughter from whatever had befallen her, and to put the plans of the enemy to futility.
“But what could be wrong with her?” Mr. Johnson asked repeatedly, expecting no answer from anyone in particular. “She showed no sign of sickness before now.”
“It is the enemies at work.” Mrs. Johnson replied. She had turned to a wreck within the space of few minutes of waiting, with no manifestation of her false bravado.
Sighting the Medical Director of the hospital, a fellow Deacon at the church coming from outside, they rushed at him.
“Good afternoon Deacon,” Mrs. Johnson greeted, panting. “We don’t know what is wrong with her. A Doctor and some Nurses have been with her for a while.”
“Calm down,” the Doctor responded as he adjusted the stethoscope around his neck and turned to Mr. Johnson saying, “Deacon, all will be well. I was at a meeting when I received your call, and I immediately called the Doctor on call to assess, and start treatment on her. I will go in now and see how she’s fairing.”
“Thank you sir, can we?” Mr. Johnson said, pointing towards the room.
“No!” the doctor responded, shaking his head. “Just give us more time.”
Not long after he entered into the room, the door opened with force and Kike was wheeled out, looking lifeless. The Medical director followed suit, giving instructions.
“Deacon Johnson please follow me,” he said. “We need to carry out an urgent evacuation on her, in the mini- theatre.”
“Evacuation? Of what? Mrs. Johnson shouted, holding the Doctor.
“There’s no time for long explanation, as we are at risk of losing her. I need you to sign this consent for the procedure to be done,” he said, passing a form to the father. “We will also need a blood donor, because she will definitely need to be transfused.”
“We are of same blood group,” Mr. Johnson responded.
“Then move to the lab for urgent grouping and cross matching,” the Doctor said, and entered into a room marked ‘mini theatre’, leaving them bewildered.
Kike was wheeled out, after about an hour.
Reassuring them that she’s out of the blues, and would likely make a complete recovery, the Doctor requested that the parents meet him in his office.
The medical director looked closely at Mr. & Mrs. Johnson, and broke the news they had anxiously been waiting for.
“Deacon & Deaconess,” he started, “it is so saddening to tell you that, the procedure carried out on your daughter was an evacuation.”
“Evacuation? You said it before, but of what?” they asked.
The Doctor removed his glasses and placed it on the table. Picking a pen, he made a show of writing on a pad before him, then passed what he wrote to the Johnsons.
They both stood up on reading what was on the paper.
“Yes!” the Doctor nodded. “Kike had an abortion which was badly done. I don’t know what she used, maybe a drug. The whole content of her womb did not come out, making her to bleed profusely, maybe for days.”
“Oh my God! My own daughter,” Mrs. Johnson shouted.
“Infact, the laboratory test showed that the percentage of blood in her body was less than 15%. I’m still amazed on how her vital organs were still functioning with a PCV of 10%. She almost killed herself. That she is alive is by the grace of God, and that grace shouldn’t be taken for granted.”
Mrs. Johnson felt as if the ground should open up and swallow her. Frantically looking for where to bury her head, she found none. “God!” Mrs. Johnson questioned, “if you will disgrace me, must it be in front of a church member? A Deacon for that matter.
Removing her head- tie, she used it to clean the sweat that had gathered on her face, then started fanning herself. The air conditioner could not cool the hot air emanating from her.
On the other hand, her husband was calm and collected, with a look not betraying his inner thoughts. Thanking the Doctor, he asked what the next line of action would be.
“She should be awake by now,” the Doctor said. “We will monitor her for about three days, to know if she’s getting better. She has been placed on antibiotics to combat infection, and we will also check her blood volume after the transfusion.”
Mr. Johnson thanked the Doctor, and excused himself, to go and settle the bill, not minding to talk to his wife.
She sat glued to the seat, as shame would not allow her stand up. There was palpable silence long after her husband’s departure, with the Doctor ignoring her.
Finally, she managed to stand up, but instead of leaving the room, she went round the table and knelt before the elderly Doctor asking, “Deacon, what do we do now.”
“Do?” he answered, “I told you she will be okay.”
“I’m talking about the church,” she stammered.
“What about the church?” he asked irritably, “Madam please stand up,” he said. He knew where she was heading to, but wouldn’t assist her in getting there. The law of karma, he thought, and smiled. The Almighty deaconess has now become a jelly fish.
Looking at his watch, he informed her that he had a crucial meeting in few minutes, and wouldn’t be in the hospital, if not for her family.
“Deacon, can I make a request?” She said.
“Feel free,” he answered.
“I want all that happened this afternoon to be between us,” she said, making a frantic to and fro movement with her right hand. “Please help in covering my shame,” she pleaded.
The Doctor looked at her squarely, and shook his head before answering.
“Madam,” he said. “It is ethically wrong to divulge the information of my patient to a third party. I would be breaching a professional protocol by telling anyone about what happened today. So, your secret is safe with me.”
“Ha! Thank God, thank you,” she signed in relief. “Thank God,” she repeated, as she prepared to leave the consultation room, but the Doctor’s deep baritone held her back.
“Why the sudden joy?” he asked. “Not telling anyone, would not subtract from the fact that, your daughter committed an act that almost took her life.”
“We will discuss that when she gets well. It’s a mistake, and she will never repeat it again. But the most important thing now is my…”
“Reputation,” the Doctor supplied.
“Yes! How will it sound? To hear that my daughter, my own daughter, got pre.gnant, and even ab©rted. What will people say about me?”
“That is our problem,” the Doctor responded. “We are so concerned about what people say, so full of ego, that we don’t mind sinning against God. You are concerned about your reputation now, but will be the first to pass instant judgment on others. What you feared most has befallen you now, what will you do?”
“Remember Achan that stole the sacred things in the bible. He thought his sin was covered, until God exposed him and he implicated his household. Remember David, and how God dealt with him because of his secret sins. Our sins will always find us out. The bible says, he who covers his sins shall not prosper, but he who confesses and forsake them will have mercy. You will be laying a foundation of a lifetime of deception and guilt for your daughter if you let this go.”
“What do you suggest I do?” she asked.
“Talk to her, let her go to God in full repentance. Inform the Pastor of what happened, and be ready to face the music. Your daughter should take responsibility for what has happened, so that she will not repeat it again. Then continue praying for God to give her the strength to say no to immorality, because no one can prevail by mere human strength and wisdom. I pray God will help you to do the right thing.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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