It started with the body odor. 'Honey there is something I want us to talk about'.
'What is it'. He asked, squeezing his nose in that way, that showed he didn't want to be disturbed.
'Come a little closer'. I said to him, as though if he actually came closer it would reduce the intensity of what I was about to say.
'Say it please, am busy'.
'Ok' I said, I took a deep breathe. This was hard, telling my husband that his body had an odor so fetid that I had been taking drugs for the way my tummy churned anytime he came close.
'What I am about to tell you right now, is very sensitive'.
'What'
'You need to see a doctor or something about the way you smell. You have body odor'. I felt as though a big stone had been sitting on my chest, and it had just been pushed off. He was silent like he didn't hear what I said. He was typing faster and blinking faster.
'Nkem' I called, and he didn't reply. He just kept punching the keys on his laptop.
'I am sorry' I said.
Four months after, he still refused to speak to me. Even though he had done something about the way he smells, he just ignored me. And I felt, what the hell, if it's because I aired my mind about something that was almost threatening to my health, that he is going to sulk like a baby, he should sulk on. So when, the voice on the phone said 'Mrs Douglas, I need to talk to you about your Husband'. I was half listening and half stirring the pot of soup on the gas stove. 'This man and his wahala again' I thought.
'You need to come down here Mrs Douglas, your husband is in a terrible condition'.
'Where, What is wrong with him, Where is he, Is he fine.' The questions rolled out of my mouth in panic. The man gave me the address to a hospital.
I had never driven so fast in my life, I kept sounding the horn, and moving into lanes that weren't mine.
'Where is he' I said to a lanky nurse sitting at the reception.
'Where is who?'.
'My husband.' I could almost feel my heart exploding.
'Calm down madam. What is your husbands name?'
'Mr Douglas'.
'Ok madam.' She looked into a big book.
She called another nurse and asked her to direct me to my husbands bed.
'Nkem.' His body was extremely hot, he looked thinner than ever.
A doctor came into the room. 'Are you Mrs Douglas?'
'Yes'
'Please I would like to see you in my office.'
My head twirled in confusion as I walked down the hallway. Seeing my husband, lying on that bed, in a pool of his own sweat, motionless, did things to my head. What did I miss, how could I not have known he was this sick.
The doctor pulled out a chair for me, his face was contorted with pity, and his eyes sank in with grief. I was stiff with fear.
'Mrs Douglas, your husband is dying.'
'What do you mean?'
'He has a very bad liver'.
'I don't understand' I cried 'He is fine, we were together this morning'.
'He is not fine madam, he has been ill for more than five months'. The doctor said, I was sure he was wondering what kind of wife I was.
'You can treat him right' I asked.
'That is why I called you in, your husband doesn't have up to a week to live'.
'Liar' I screamed, 'Are you God, ehnnn'
'Madam, calm down'
'Why should I calm down, who are you to say that he would die in one week, are you God?' The tears flowed, this time. I fell to the floor, and let it out. He won't die, I kept saying to myself. I felt so much bitterness towards myself, my insensitiveness towards the only man that I had ever loved. If only I had asked, he would have confided in me.
I ran to his bed, 'Nkem, I am sorry, Please wake up'. He didn't stir, he was in a coma. I was devastated. How could I not have known that my husband was dying. The body odor must have been because of the excess sweating, since his liver was bad.
I had to pray, God must wake my husband. I prayed and cried, asking for another chance. I prayed until I could no longer utter a word, I cried until I could no longer move. 'Nkem please wake up'.
It was one week, and he still hadn't woken up, but he was still alive and breathing. God was answering my prayers. Then finally he woke up. I wanted to pause in the moment, and relish the pleasure of hearing him say his first words, in one week. 'My love'.
'Nkem', I cried 'You are awake'.
'How are you'. After four months he was speaking to me.
'I am fine my baby'.
He requested for water, and I poured water into the pipe I had been using to feed him for the past week.
'I love you' he said to me.
'I love you too baby'. We held hands in silence, looking into each others eyes. How I had missed him. He looked alive and well, his face glowed, and he had a big smile on.
'I am sorry about everything baby'. I said, holding on to him tightly.
'I am sorry too love, I didn't tell you because I didn't want to bother you'
'How can you even say that, you can never bother me. You are the most important person in my life. You would be fine now, everything would be fine now'.
'Call the doctor' he said to me.
I stood up reluctantly, I was too scared to leave him all by himself.
'Doctor my husband is calling you' I told him.
In the one week, that I had been sleeping in the hospital I had grown to hate the doctor and his guts.
'That's not possible, madam, your husband, can't be awake, talk little of talking'.
Anger burned my heart. Is this man stupid.
'Come and see for yourself'.
He followed me to the room.
'Nkem' I called, he didn't answer. His eyes were closed.
'The doctor is here' I said.
The doctor checked his heartbeat.
'I am sorry madam' he said.
'Sorry for what' I asked, dreading the worst. 'He was awake now, he just spoke to me'.
'I am sorry madam' he repeated.
'Sorry for what' I shouted 'My husband is alive, he just spoke to me'.
'Your husband is dead'.
'My husband is not dead'
'Nkem' I screamed. Two nurses rushed into the room, and that was the last thing I saw.
Everyday, I hate myself. When he was suffering, I wasn't talking to him. When I was supposed to hold his hands, I was ignoring him. When he was taking heaps and heaps of drugs, I was complaining about his body odor. When he was going on countless visits to the hospital, I was going on shopping sprees so I could frustrate him.
There are mistakes that can't be undone. These mistakes are like mushrooms, everywhere you turn you see them; Staring at you in the face, tormenting you, scolding you. Eventually these mistakes grow into monsters and eat you up slowly, and slowly till you vanish, till you are just a shadow of yourself.
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