I wake up to a group of nurses putting me on stretcher. My head is throbbing and my body feels as though it has been shot several times. Someone is grabs hold of my hand as the stretcher is taken down the white hallway and into a room which I can only assume to the same one I was in before. I try to recall what just happened and remember that Ryan had been here and caused commotion of some sort. Oh Lord, Ryan was here! ‘Ryan…’ I try to callout but someone tells me to take it easy. I am transferred onto a bed and covered with a sheet. I can barely stay awake and instantly find myself in a deep sleep.
When I wake up again, I find Chichi sitting by my bedside. She looks absolutely exhausted. Her hair is dishevelled and with some little tendrils of her wavy Brazilian weave hanging effortlessly down the side of her face, while the rest of it is tied back in what appears to have been a quick attempt at an up do. Chichi takes her glasses off and wipes them slowly, then pops them on the table beside me. She still has not realised that I am awake. She wipes her face with a handkerchief that returns to her handbag stained brown from makeup. Even when exhausted she still manages to look undeniably stunning. Her caramel skin boasts a flawless velvety texture that defies any sign of defeat by her exhaustion. The dishevelled hair which would make me look like a mad man by comparison, looks like a deliberate casual look on her. She posts her glasses back on and allows them to rest charmingly almost on the tip of her nose. She looks at me and notices that I am awake and comes over to make a fuss.
‘Lanie! Don’t you dare scare me like that again woman!’ she says taking my hand gently into hers. ‘Just rest now yeah. I am going to call the nurse and let her know that you are awake now. I have bought you some cotton wool and a lot of water which you need to drink right now. You are completely dehydrated.’ She can be very bossy but always has her way with me. Is it up in bed and take the bottle of water from her. I have no idea what I ought to do with the cotton wool right now and I do not want to find out. There is never any good news in this hospital.
‘Where is Mutale? Is he OK? I would like him here. I need him here’. Chichi looks away and tries to busy herself with tidying my bed. She only does this sort of thing when she is uncomfortable about something. ‘Please tell me he is fine Chichi because Lord knows I cannot take any more bad news today. This whole day seems cursed.’
‘He is fine babe why would you think he is not?’
‘Because he is not here with me. He is always here. What about Ryan?’
‘Ryan was escorted out for starting the fight but don’t worry Mutale is fine. He is just not allowed in here because there are too many women but as soon as you are out of here you will see him’ she smiles and sits down next to me. ‘You are in love with him are you not?’
‘No I am not he is a really good friend is all’. She giggles away clearly not believing me, then heads out to inform the nurse about my current state of affairs. The stench of medication in the air is stifling.
On the bed next to mine is a woman who looks very unwell. Her family are around her saying prayers softly for her. A short plump old woman is deep in prayer ‘Lord you know all that your child is going through and I pray that your mercies be upon her, for by your stripes we have been healed and by faith we believe that it is done. That your child has been healed by the blood that was shed on Calvary…’ I try not to stare but it is damn near impossible. I miss and crave for mother dearest. She knows how to kick the so hard he begins to doubt who is the devil between the two of them! Mum always finds time to pray for my every ailment even something as small as a headache would drive her into fervent prayer regardless of where we were. Perhaps if I had been brave enough to ride out the storm with the pregnancy, I would have had her on the phone praying for me. Tears roll down my face again. I bet this is what is causing all these headaches. I have cried religiously. I decide to close my eyes and join in the prayers. They are not meant for me but I am sure they can work vicariously right?
‘Chansa! Melanie Chansa!’ I summon every muscle in my body and demand that it gets up. I walk to the nurses table where Chichi is waiting. ‘Iyo kwena, kuli va so? Bamuna bako…awe sure. I have never seen anything quite like it in all my career. Elo ulikanonofye (you are only small). Here take these tablets because you will be seen next after this one. I feel sorry for you. You have already gone through so much you don’t need this mwe.’ I take the tablets not caring what they actually are. Normally I am a pain when it comes to drinking medication but this is not the place for that. These nurses can be brutal and have a tongue sharper than a two edged sword. She may sympathise with me now but should I piss her off, the gloves will be on and I will be crucified by her merciless insults. Zambian nurses have the gift of the gab.They may possibly have had some military training. You get poorly at your own risk. ‘OK go back to your room and I will come and get you’ she says. Chichi escorts me back.
My heart is throbbing at the thought of what is to come. I have no idea how painful it will be and honestly I do not want them to take Lubuto out. I would like to spend a few more minutes with him. I want to spend time with him but I am also burdened when I see the blood. The blood reminds me that he is gone. It reminds me of my failure. It reminds me that this is my fault. It is my fault because I hesitated to keep him. It is my fault because I could not protect him. Can he ever forgive me?
About twenty minutes later I am called out again and this time it is for the operating table. As I walk down the hallway to the operating room with Chichi, I wonder if I will come out alive. If I will ever see Mutiz again. I think of my father. The horror that grips me is the worst. Disappointing my father is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I can see my brother is still in the waiting room looking both tired and worried. Guilt eats me up for obvious reasons. He does not deserve this. I am sure his life was much more flawless before my dainty hands stained it with all manner of confusion. I have not even been at the house properly for a couple of days but each time I showup, guaranteed some drama will ensue.
I turn to the right at the bottom of the hall way and I am immediately met by a nurse who ushers me into the room. There is a bed with clamps on both sides and a bin at the bottom of the bed. A small step is placed beside the bin to allow one to clamber onto the operating chair. The male nurse that gave the diagnosis when I arrived stands by the bed with a pair of tongs in his hand, a mask covering his nose and mouth as well as gloves fitted perfectly on his hands. Another nurse holds a small tray of medical utensils if I can call them that. I think I might just pee! The sight of it all frightens me.
‘It is OK Chansa, just climb on the table. I will be as quick as I can’ the male nurse instructs. His voice is gentle unlike his female counterpart who gives me a look that says ‘bloody hell hurry up already! ‘Mind the needles!’ they all shout at the same time. I look around for said needles and realise they are referring to the bin at the bottom of the bed! It is full of things clotted in blood and needles and creepy stuff! Is this how you tell someone to be careful? Should this thing not been emptied when a new patient enters? It is awful!!
I lay flat on my back and position my legs in the clamps at about 90 degree angles. The male nurse tells me to make sure that when he places the tongs inside me, I must breathe at all times. He places the big tong inside which feels as though it is opening something wide inside. It is similar to the start of a smear or PAP test. It is horrible and uncomfortable. I continue to breathe as he instructed but then he decides this will be a fun time to put something that feels like a cork screw. This is pushed deep inside till it hits what I can only assume to be my womb. It hurts but is not as bad as I thought it would be so I relax a little. And then it starts.
He twists this gadget round and round and I yell out in pain. The nurse seems to be twisting like an alcoholic desperate to take off a cork screw! I scream so loud and with such agony that I think I will die from the pain he is inflicting on me. I try to bring my legs together but I am shouted at by the aggressive little lady nurse giving me evils. ‘AAAAaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhh!!!Nooooooo Nooooo just stop please just stop!’ My eyes flood so much that the male nurse stops and asks his colleague whether I was given anything for the pain. She agrees that she had but believes perhaps it had not started working in my body yet. I look at her and think ‘what a bitch! I ought to dip her in them needles right now!’
‘Have you finished?’ I ask hopefully
‘No, you are screaming so much that I had no choice but to stop’
‘Why are you screaming so loud? Be strong!’ the other nurse shouts.
‘Bitch I swear to God, one more comment from you and I will kill you! You fancy this nurse, find some other way of impressing him but back off!’ I am so pissed off. How dare she! Her and her little friends pass some snide comments but I am past caring for desperate women who choose to take their frustrations out on me’.
The nurse enters me again with his gadgets except this time it feels like he is injecting something around my womb. I yell out in pain again and instruct him that this time I am serious and he can bloody well go to hell because I have had enough. He takes something out and then reaches in for more. Then he asks his colleague to pass him the tray. ‘Yes, it was definitely around8 weeks old’ I hear them say then the other nurse takes it to a small machine and I hear a crushing sound. I cry, sob loudly. That was the fate of my baby. To be crushed by a machine I never ever got to see him. The nurse cleans my private area with cotton wool and some cool liquid. ‘I have finished’ he says gently.
‘Good’ I say but as I sit up I see him holding up a huge injection ‘ whoah whoah whoah ‘ I say holding my hand out forbidding him to come any closer. ‘Where do you think you are going with that?’ I demand. The whole room bursts out laughing with some nurses shouting ‘good question’ between fits of laughter.
‘Relax, I am injecting your thigh.’
‘Oh…’ I smile in spite myself.
When getting off the table, they all exclaim ‘mind the bin!’
I leave the room and tell them I would like to go home.
‘Rest first and if after an hour you still want to go home then come to the first desk so we can give you your prescription for after care’.
Chichi is at the door waiting and I can see she has been crying too. My screams must have upset her. As we walk down the hallway, the nurses comment on how upset my brother was pacing up and down in tears but helpless about what to do.
‘Chichi where is Mutale?’
‘I am sure he is fine babe. He is being looked after by the best. He had a concussion after being rammed into that wall by Ryan’.
‘Oh no! I must see him now!’
‘No rest first. I have been to see him and it will not do him any good to be stressed out. He has been given something strong for the pain and is resting now. He will be fine though. Here go use this cotton wool, freshen up and come back to bed’. My phone has been hijacked by Chichi possibly to keep Ryan out.
My heartbreak is immense. Nothing can soothe it right now. The nurses are right. I must rest but I fear dreaming about what I have lost. My little precious one gone too soon. The line on that stick has faded too fast in a most unjust way. There is no way to describe how I feel right now. Only four days left, or is it five days left before I would have officially heard his heartbeat. The tiny little heart that was supposed to beat twice as fast as mine. The pushchair that I had already seen at Levy mall and dreamt myself pushing with him in it. A proud mother amongst all the other women. His little feet kicking away at the sight of something exciting, or me leaning down to make sure the pushchair cover is protecting him adequately from this horrendous sun. This would all have been after we return to Zambia for the holidays. I was determined to give birth to him in England. A chance of a better life than I had. A happy prosperous life. I was ready to give him the world. The tears rolling down my face are endless.
To kiss his little feet and complain about sleepless nights because of his crying was something I was looking forward to. In my dream it as just Lubuto and I and whoever we loved would have just been a bonus. An addition to our happy life. I am sure some may not understand why I am so stricken with pain. He may have been small but eight weeks was a long time to know you. He was a part of me. An integral part of me. I fought for him tenaciously, at the expense of my own family and love. I swore to protect his and love him unconditionally.
I cannot stay in this hospital. It is too stressful for me. All I long for now is a good night’s sleep at home. And put this all behind me. I gather all my stuff and decide to head home against medical wishes. I am not strong enough to stay here. Not without Mutale.
Copyright © 2013 Chisanshi K Malama
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