A TRIBUTE TO DR ADADEVOH: THE LABOR OF HEROES PAST

A TRIBUTE TO DR ADADEVOH: THE LABOR OF HEROES PAST

Isolation Unit
Ebola Treatment Center, Lagos
19/8/2014
18:00 GMT

The ceiling fan blades rolled slowly until they halted. Dr Akin watched the wooden pendulum clock as its pendulum continued to swing, till the long arm of the clock dropped at the figure twelve and there was a clicking sound.
With palpable regrets in his voice he told his assistant Nurse Titi, “Time of death 6:00pm.”
He could feel a tear drop navigating its way down his cheeks to the hollow created by the tribal mark on his cheek and in an attempt to hide his emotions from his assistant he turned his back against the lifeless body who had initially been in coma for 24 hours before finally giving up the ghost and reached for the door.
That was the best he could do to prevent Nurse Titi from seeing his tears, he couldn’t have wiped them away as he was gowned from head to toe with this yellow protective wear, he had his hands covered by a pair of green gloves that reached inches beyond his wrists, he also had some goggles on his face that would have prevented him from wiping away the tears if he had attempted to, although Nurse Titi couldn’t hear Dr Akin cry but the dull, heavy sound his protective boots made at each impact with the concrete floor gave his emotions away. Nurse Titi still couldn’t believe it. The heroic Dr Adadevoh was dead!
Patrick Sawyer lay helpless on the bed numbered 4. Though now conscious after receiving few liters of Normal Saline, he looked like he was in some form of distress; he labored with every breath, breathing through his mouth and sweating profusely. Nurse Justina opened the window slides to provide adequate ventilation, synergizing the effect of the ceiling fans.
Dr Adadevoh continued studying the face of the fair, huge man whose estimated weight was around 90kg, and then all of a sudden, like an inspiration from nowhere, it clicked!
“He was coming from Liberia?” she asked, her question directed at one of the men who had brought him into the hospital.
He answered, “Yes we were coming from Monrovia, though we had a stopover at Lome.”
At this Dr Adadevoh ordered everyone out of the A&E ward and quickly scribbled into her computer a virology test among the chain of investigations she had earlier ordered for. As they all made their way through the door, the two men in black suit were the first to exit the room, then Nurse Justina, who was adjusting the drip to run at the prescribed rate had to stop what she was doing immediately because of the urgency she sensed in Dr. Adadevoh’s voice. Following Nurse Justina was Dr Johnson and then Dr Adadevoh who shut the door as she made her way out of the room and ushered all the four people already waiting for her at the corridor into the dressing room just opposite the A&E ward.
She looked at Dr Johnson who she was sure was waiting for an explanation for the test she ordered, though all had responded without questioning.
Then she said, “We have to seal the A&E, we can’t admit any other patient in there, because people, I guess we are dealing with a case of Ebola!”

Somewhere in Lagos.
Dr Adadevoh walked side by side with an old man down Obalende road. When they got to the front of the First Consultant’s hospital the old man asked politely in a British accent: “Isn’t that where you used to work?”
Dr Adadevoh nodded, “Yes I used to work there as a medical doctor. I was a consultant endocrinologist at the hospital,” she replied.
“That’s good,” the old man replied
“You took after your dad afterwards,” he said with a knowing smile.
There was something familiar about the old man aside the British accent. The striking, unmistakable style of his moustache.
She blinked rapidly. It was unbelievable! He was Herbert Macaulay!
Yes indeed! Dr Adadevoh happened to be the great granddaughter of this national icon though Dr Adadevoh has never seen him face to face. The mental pictures of him that she had were from the one naira coin and some family pictures of his days. Strangely, even though she had never seen him, she felt like they’d known each other for ages.
As they continued strolling across the streets of Lagos, Herbert showed Dr Adadevoh various sites where he had engaged in the nationalism struggle. Dr Adadevoh listened as Herbert recounted the labor of heroes past. She could feel fulfillment and happiness in his voice.
She looked into the poor old man’s eyes and wondered if only he knew the state of the country he gave his whole life for. If only he knew that the country he fought for independence was at the edge of breaking up because of greed, if only he knew that the corruption he fought against was now the order of the day in the country he helped to create.
As her thoughts continued to wander, the old man asked:
“So what do the present generation think of me?”
Dr Adadevoh looked away from him trying to figure out what the right thing to say was. She knew she dared not say the truth which was that the present generation didn’t give a kobo for who he was or what he did, so she decided to walk a thin line.
“Oh they see you as one of the fathers of the nation. In fact they immortalize you by putting your portrait in one of the denominations of the nation’s currency.” She added. She cleverly hid the fact that the denomination she was referring to, was the one naira coin and that it was in extinction. Then the old man smiled again and she could almost feel the fulfillment in his heart.
“I heard you also died serving your country, that you sacrificed your life for the lives of millions of Nigerians by preventing a sick man from entering the streets of Nigeria to spread a deadly disease,” the old man added.
“Yes papa,” Dr Adadevoh answered, hoping to find fulfillment in her heart too but she felt nothing.
“Don’t worry,” the old man continued.
“I am sure Nigerians would reward your act of sacrifice by probably naming you the mother of patriotism and immortalize you too by putting your portrait on one of the currency’s denomination notes,” he assured.
Dr Adadevoh gave a disbelieving “Hmm.”
She doubted if anyone would ever remember her act of valor as we never remembered her great grandfather’s. Only time will tell if she will be right.

Debonair stories 2014
..………………………it may not be exactly the way it happened story but it’s the
Debonair side of the story.
By Jinmi Adetutu

Fright, Fight or Flight.

Fright, Fight or Flight.

fight-or-flight-response
I came across an article recently that made me wonder what the best method for dealing with problems in relationships was, whether it was in the workplace, the home or among friends. Usually when a serious problem comes up between two people, there are three types of responses each individual can give. Fright-refuse to face the problem out of fear of what would happen to the relationship, fight-confront the other person and see if there could be a workable solution or flight-run away from the problem and the individual.
Let’s examine the responses one by one. Fright-when this response is given the individual refuses to bring up the issue that is causing the problem and deal with it. Such a person is usually a phlegmatic, afraid of confrontation. An easy-going person that might not want to hurt the other person’s feelings. The problem with this kind of approach is that it can lead to passive aggression. Especially if the other person does not even know that there is a problem.
When the problem is not dealt with, chances are that it would keep rearing up its head in the relationship further driving the two apart and causing further emotional upheaval. It’s a method that has been employed by people who have a strong suspicion that their significant other is having an affair but refuse to confront them about it. It’s a situation where one person sees the other making a series of bad decisions and choices but don’t want to rock the boat. a If I may so, it’s a method that has been well employed by a lot of women. I call it the burying-your-head-in the sand approach. This method has a short shelf life because eventually the person has to lift his head up and tackle the issue.
Flight-this is what happens when a person chooses to run away from the problem. It is the easiest way out of the problem. Once you’re away from the person, the problem ceases to exist. It is also the cowardly way out. It’s a method that has been employed for ages and very frequently by men especially when there’s an unexpected pregnancy(smile). Sometimes when your friend or significant other seems to have changed right before your eyes and you don’t know or understand why, when there are responsibilities you have no idea how to handle- all you have to do is just cut out the problem. Delete. And it disappears. The only problem with this solution is this: if you run away from one relationship to another because of a problem you refused to deal with, chances are that problems will still crop up in the new relationship. That’s because the way relationships occur, offense must surely come. So you can keep running till infinity-the problem would still catch up with you eventually. There are a few instances however when this is the only method that can be employed but we’ll get to that later.
Fight- this is when two people decide to hash out the issues between them. It may involve some raised voices and even the use of some harsh words. But at the end of the day the people involved have an idea of what is eating them up and how to work at it. A lot of so called big problems are demystified when the parties sit down to talk about it. There’s a way to fight fair and that involves confronting the person, so you can discuss the issue, move on and apologize. Having said this, it takes two people to fight. It is rather futile to attempt to fight alone. Two people must be willing to fight for the relationship to keep it alive. One person can start the fight but the other person has to be willing to take it up. If the other person is not willing to work through the issues, the relationship eventually fizzles out. There’s only so much one person can do. Sometimes what the other partner needs is a breather. Time to reflect on the issues at hand. ‘We need to take a break,’ are dreaded words in relationships but sometimes they must be said. Sometimes, there is no return. But it gives the other partner enough time to reflect and appraise the relationship and decide if the relationship is worth fighting for. Yep, fighting can be a sign of true love.(smile)
Another way of fighting is to decide to physically assault the other partner in order to win an argument. Or indulging in screaming and shouting matches replete with invectives. In this scenario, nobody wins. The victim of the assault especially if it is continuous has no option but to employ the flight method. It is foolish to attempt to stay back in an abusive relationship-whether physical, verbal or emotional. The end result of remaining in an abusive relationship is that eventually the victim snaps. That is why the flight method is acceptable and must be employed before it reaches that stage. The other person may eventually change, but the victim should return only when that person is ready to fight fair.
After all is said and done, we have been given a golden rule to follow which we would do well to keep no matter the issues we may have with other people. If it is possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.(Rom 12:18)

P.S: This article just reflects the author’s opinion. Please share your views and your experiences on how to deal with issues that come up in relationships.

Sons and Lovers. Episode 21

DAZ2

We are pleased to announce that a novel by one of the blog administrators has been published on amazon. The title is Dazzle me Forever. A book review is available here.  You can visit the link to see more about  the book here. Or just search for the title under amazon books. This delightful new book is now available online.

Sons and Lovers. Episode 21.

You can see all previous episodes of Sons and Lovers here.

57c3a94148aecfea81a72d9ce203da91
“Are you sure you can still find the way?” Peter asked once they were all settled in her car. She smiled at him, glad he wasn’t judging her. They had had a little talk away from the others and he had made her promise him that whenever she was having one of those cravings, she would contact him first. His concern for her was so apparent and real that she had to ask him: “Why are you so bothered about me Peter? Don’t tell me you’re my guardian angel.”
He had smiled at her and looked deep into her eyes and said seriously: “I care about you Ize. You mean so much to me.”
Her heart had soared with a high that she didn’t know existed at those words.
He pinched her chin and said: “Yep. The Lord and I have some work to do on you Ize.”
She didn’t know what he meant by ‘the Lord and I’ but she was willing to find out.
She drove slowly, enjoying the feel of Peter’s hand in hers as the rest of them snuggled together in the back. Fola had got the policeman who had proved to be an ally and he was following them in an unmarked car. Tomiwa’s head was bowed praying.
Fola sat next to Remi, a little stiffly. He tried not to let their shoulders touch in the crowded car. They had not had a chance to talk since they found out Ruth was missing. The silence between them was uncomfortably loud. Fola had decided that having Remi in his life as a friend was better than not having her in his life at all. But he still felt awkward, not knowing how to relate with her. They both watched Chidera as she pecked away on her phone giving Richard up to date information on the chase.
Chidera had pulled Remi aside just before they left and told her: “I’m sticking with Richard. I know he’s the one. It’s going to be rough but I’m glad I’ll have you and Ruth to hold my hand.”
Remi had told her how happy she was for her but inwardly wondered what was wrong with her own love life. Everyone around her seemed sure of what they wanted. She didn’t even know what that was anymore.
She stole a glance at Fola. Wonderful, dependable, steady, large-hearted Fola. He didn’t have half the swag of Tomiwa or the spontaneity of Peter but he was fun all the same. He had always been her friend and he knew her better than anyone. She wished she knew what to do. She sighed inwardly and let her thoughts stray to Ruth. She prayed she was safe and wondered what she was doing that very moment.

She could hear the sound of the door opening and instantly her heart was in her throat. It couldn’t be Dare. He had said he would give her till evening to think about it. It wasn’t even dark yet.
“God please,” she thought desperately. She had no means to defend herself. She did not want her friends to come and rescue her from Dare’s clutches when it was already too late. Where were they anyway?
Dare came into the room without ceremony holding a purple dress in his hand.
He dropped it on the rug. “Get dressed,” he said as she stared at it unbelievably.
“We’re going out!”
Ruth’s jaw dropped. This was not in the plan at all. Had dare somehow figured out what she had done?
“Start getting dressed Ruth. We don’t have all day. I’ll be back for you in five minutes,” and with that he left the room locking the door securely behind him.
Ruth stared at the dress searching desperately for an answer and a way out.