By She took a deep breath before responding to my enquiry, looked straight into my eyes, and said, “I thought I could fight the battle alone without bothering you!”
So, for about six months, my wife was, literally, at daggers drawn with the monster all by herself! This revelation sank my heart deeply into the abyss.
While I was hustling in Delta, my dearest was in the gulags of pain and fear! As Christians, one of the reasons, perhaps the major one, we marry is for companionship, in fact, communion. To be alone and fight alone in life is a curse! You heard me right. It’s like subscribing to suicide. It’s symptomatic of a lack of genuine love for life and self. The One who initiated and founded marriage knows it all and gave us all to profit thereby.
Why did He say one shall chase just a thousand, and two shall put ten thousand to flight? Why did He say that two are better than one because there is a reward…? Would my early knowledge of the affliction have changed the course of the affliction? Perhaps yes, perhaps no! But at least, the knowledge that someone who cares is aware and in agreement with you to fight your challenge to victory could begin some level of healing.
Denise and her husband after a weekly service
In the course of time, as we battled the affliction on various fronts, I recalled that there were days in the past, during our morning devotions and family altar prayers, when I had heard her praying passionately that God should heal her. You would hear her, while on her knees, saying—albeit not loudly—“Daddy, heal me. Please, heal me.”
I can’t remember if I ever challenged her to disclose what part of her body needed healing. What an oversight! My thoughts usually revolved around her usual complaints of waist pain, occasional headaches, or general fatigue—perhaps after a hard day’s work or a tortuous journey.
After I read the doctor’s report from UCH affirming that it was a mass, she was required to swiftly go under the knife—or what they call a mastectomy in medical jargon—which was to precede, or as otherwise advised, other therapies like chemotherapy and radiotherapy, which she obviously dreaded.
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For her, mastectomy was a no-go area. “How can I lose one of my br…sts? Never! The Lord will intervene,” she had prayed. Of course, neither would I want to lose one of my play balls! Yes, you heard me! Isn’t it one the organs that make a woman a woman?
Meanwhile, this early stage of denial is a crucial one for victims of this deadly disease. It shatters confidence; it erodes faith; it’s a leveller of a kind. I know some readers here would be saying, “As Christians, why didn’t you guys bind, loose, and cast the filthy thing back to hell?” Did we not? Was God unaware?
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Often, as is the bane among Africans, we love to theorise. We also seek scapegoats when we need to look inwards. I cherish practical Christianity—the one with evidence people can see. I have witnessed it. The two of us did witness the raw power of God in manifestation severally. But may I ask: do they always come handy?
Pronto, my wife admitted she had made a huge mistake by not letting me know early enough. In tears, she apologised. She said she thought I didn’t really love or care about her but had realised that she was wrong. Why such assumptions in the first instance? Am I not culpable? Was her reasoning justifiable?
In December 2022, we had a little misunderstanding over an issue. She was not pleased with a particular move I made while returning from Delta for Christmas. All efforts to pacify her proved abortive. That year’s Yuletide festivities were observed under high tension. Except for my younger brother and our little girl, no one else knew something was amiss. My pleas didn’t make any sense to her. Truth is the move bruised her ego, at least I can reason better now. I didn’t really carry her along. She wanted me to reverse the decision that was, at that time for me, impracticable. Besides, a man must be a man when such time arises.
I had a wife who talked less while keeping plenty in her heart. We were opposites in this regard. For me, I open up like a tap—pour out my heart, and I’m off! According to her, the thought that I cared less stemmed from that issue. Hence, she was unable to confide in me about the life-threatening discovery she had made concerning her health because of the altercation. I accept all the blame! But should it be so, at the expense of one’s life, Denise? Can’t you drag this foolish boy you’ve been married to for about 18 years into the room, undress, and throw yourself at him to behold what was brooding under your armpit?
Anyway, time was racing against us. Armed with the information that my life was tearing apart, I swung into action. How did we go about it? Did we make mistakes? Were our steps in the right direction? How did close associates and the medical people treat us?
To be continued…
Ebenezer writes from Warri Delta State on the occasion of the one-year immemorial of his wife, Princess Denise Yetunde Adurokiya.
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