Episode 2
The aftermath of Chioma’s cooking marathon lingered longer than I expected. By the next day, my body still felt off. At first, I thought it was just my stomach protesting against the overload of whatever experimental spices Chioma had thrown into that stew. But days later, I realized this wasn’t just about bad food.
My body was sending me all kinds of warning signals—constant fatigue, strange cramps, and an itching discomfort that wouldn’t go away. I thought it would pass, but each day, the symptoms grew worse.
“Ah ah, Ngozi,” Amaka said one evening, watching me scratch my arm absentmindedly. “This one you’re looking like someone who fought with their shadow, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, unwilling to draw attention. But Amaka was not the kind to let things slide.
“Nothing? You’ve been running to the bathroom every hour, looking like someone that owes a spirit money. Tell me the truth, what’s happening?”
By the weekend, I couldn’t hide it anymore. My symptoms were unbearable. I could barely focus in lectures, and the constant discomfort made me snap at anyone who dared to ask questions.
“I think it’s toilet infection,” I finally confessed to Amaka one evening after yet another trip to the bathroom.
Amaka frowned. “Ngozi, you need to see a doctor. You can’t just sit here and wait for it to go away. You know how these things can escalate.”
I sighed. “I don’t have time for school clinic wahala. I haven’t renewed my clinic card. Exams are coming, and you know how slow these school clinics are especially when you haven’t updated your insurance card. By the time they attend to me, my entire semester will be over.”
Chioma, who had been unusually quiet, decided to chip in. “Ngozi, don’t even bother with the school clinic. I know someone at a hospital off-campus. If you want, I can call them. They’ll attend to you immediately.”
Amaka raised a brow. “Are you sure this isn’t another one of your ‘special’ recommendations? We all know your track record.”
Chioma glared. “Abeg, don’t insúlt me. I’m trying to help. Ngozi, listen to me. This isn’t something you should play with. Exams are around the corner, and you need to be in good health to concentrate. Let me call my person at the hospital.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. The last thing I needed was to balance my health issues with exam stress. Chioma made the call, and within minutes, she had arranged an appointment for me at a private hospital.
The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the hospital. The ride there felt like an eternity, with every bump on the road reminding me of how fragile my body felt.
The hospital was quiet and sterile, a far cry from the chaos of the school clinic. The nurse at the reception greeted me with a warm smile as I handed over my details.
“You’re here for the 11:00 appointment, right?” she asked with a sense of familiarity.
I nodded, feeling slightly relieved that things were moving smoothly. She directed me to a waiting area, where I tried to distract myself with my phone.
After a short wait, another nurse called my name. “Ma’am, please follow me.”
I stood up, adjusting my bag nervously. As I entered the examination room, I felt a strange sense of unease. The nurse gestured for me to lie on the surface and spread my legs.
“We’ll take care of everything. Just relax,” she said, preparing some equipment.
“You didn’t ask me any questions, ma,” I said hesitantly.
The nurse smiled politely. “It’s a routine procedure. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”
Before I could ask any more questions, she started her work. I wanted to say something, but my exhaustion and discomfort made me stay quiet. I had to assume my roommate had already told them everything before I came.
When the appointment was over, I left the hospital feeling more confused than reassured. The nurse had said everything looked fine, but something about the experience didn’t sit well with me. Still, I told myself to trust the professionals. After all, they knew what they were doing.
—
Back at the hostel, Amaka greeted me with her usual bluntness. “So, how was it? Did they give you medicine? Or are you still dragging this sickness?”
“They said it’s fine,” I replied, collapsing onto my bed. “I just need rest.”
Chioma nodded smugly. “See? I told you my hospital contact was reliable. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
I wanted to believe them, but deep down, something felt off. This wasn’t the end of my troubles.
It was just the beginning.