George

George

He got home and opened the door with his spare key. It was an unannounced visit as he wanted to surprise those at home.

“Anyone at home?” He shouted.

The smell hit him, and he recoiled. He pinched his nose in reflex and wondered if anyone died in the house.

George had just hit it big. He was an engineer who had travelled to Lagos in search of the proverbial golden fleece. He had relocated from Ogun state as he was not getting his money’s worth of the services he was providing for clients that consulted him. He just obtained a master’s degree in engineering process redesign which was a highly sought area in Lagos and Lagos seemed the best place to ply his trade. He was the first child out of a family of four children and luckily everyone had something doing.

Their father had passed on two years ago from the complications of hypertension. He had not been very compliant with his medications and till the time of his death, still took kai kai, popularly known as dry gin in the village. Despite all entreaties, he always told them, “something must kill a man”. Recently, their mother had been feeling very unwell. She was losing weight, urinated more frequently than normal, seemed to be eating more than normal. They took her to the hospital, and after series of visits, investigations and evaluations, they had been told she had diabetes.

“Dad had died of hypertension and its complications and now mummy is down with diabetes” George thought to himself.

“I am going to place her on some medications, which she has to take every day. She needs to monitor her blood sugar level closely, at least four times a week. We have portable glucose kits you can use for that at home. Her diet had to be modified and for that I will refer you to a clinical nutritionist for a detailed eating guide. Please, more importantly, she is to report any form of injury no matter how small it looks for proper medical attention. No tight-fitting shoes and no walking on barefoot.

His mother nodded in agreement and promised to do as she was told.

Initially, it was easy but as time went on, she started defaulting. She found it difficult to take her drugs, it was hard for her to believe that she would be on drugs for the rest of her life. She had asked her doctor and his reply had been an emphatic no. She was sad and became a bit depressed. Because her children lived with her, they made sure that she took all her medications as at when due and took her for her regular checkups. The last child got a job in Abuja and had to leave the house too. They got a helper to live with her and assist with chores and ensure she took her medications.

Mummy had a farm where she cultivated vegetables and some fruits. Her own way of keeping busy was tending to the vegetables and fruits, it helped her fight depression. She went to the farm every day. On this fateful day, she had stepped on a twig mistakenly which had pierced her slippers. It bled a little and then it stooped. She ignored since it was just a small bleeding. She didn’t bother to tell her kids or even her helper who lived with her, even when George had called to check up on her as usual, she didn’t tell him.

The injury was under her foot and kept on becoming worse, it became infected and started smelling.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a wound last week?” Nana asked. She was the helper.

“It is not serious na. Is it not this small wound? It will go joor” She shot back at her.

Nana deemed it wise to inform the children who had employed her to take care of their mother.

“Just take her to the hospital” George told her when she called to inform him on what was happening.

Mama decided to go to the village “doctor”. He was no real doctor, had no sort of formal training except that he had previously sold medications at Upper Iweka, a part of Onitsha, and after his apprenticeship, he had gone home, and business was booming. They all called him doctor and he answered proudly.

“Take these drugs and you need to come for dressing of the leg every three days” the quack told her.

The villagers seemed to have a firm belief in him and his abilities than the professionally trained doctors who manned the primary health care center and the general hospital. She went home and stopped her normal drugs and commenced the new ones the quack had given to her. She refused to go to the hospital for proper evaluation.

George was on a trip to the United States and had been informed of mama’s reluctance to visit the hospital.

“I will be back in three weeks” he had told Nana who had called to give him a situational update of happenings.

He finished what he was doing in the United States earlier than planned and booked a flight back to Nigeria. They were not expecting him at all. He landed in Lagos, went straight to his house, picked up his car and drove straight to the village.

He knocked.

Then knocked again and no one answered. He let himself into the house with his own key and that was when the smell hit him. As he moved closer to where the smell seemed to be coming from, the odor became stronger. He opened door and he saw his mum on the bed. It was the right leg that caught his attention as it was swollen up to the knee and had a different color towards the foot area of which some areas of the skin seemed to be peeling off. A dirty looking bandage was wrapped around the leg, it was dirty brown.

“Mama” he shouted.

“Is that you George? I thought you were coming in three weeks” time.” she asked.

Thank God she recognized him as he thought that she was unconscious, and he wondered where Nana was.

“Yes, I am back. I finished earlier than expected and I decided to come home”. He replied.

He called for help. Some neighbors came around and helped him lift her into the car. As they lifted her, they all squeezed their noses at the foul stench emanating from the leg. He drove to the hospital and straight to the emergency. They took her in, assessed her, sent for some urgent tests and started treatment immediately.

“This leg needs to go. It has to amputated because it is heavily infected and parts of it are already dead” the doctor said as he pointed out the level at which the amputation would be done.

George looked at his mum and felt for her. She was crying.

“You heard him, if you are to live, part of your right leg has to go” he told her.

They had a long talk and she finally agreed to the surgery. It was a high above knee amputation. It went well, and she survived the infection, and subsequently discharged home four weeks later in a wheel chair. She learnt the hard way and never joked with her medications again.

LESSON: As a diabetic, please never joke with any form of injury no matter how small it looks. Small injuries have been known to lead to amputation of legs because of severe infections, and even death.

Originally published on twitter with the handle @ronikpe under the hashtag :TalesOfDrRon

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