I gripped the doctor’s table, holding on with all my might, my head spinning, my thoughts everywhere at the same time. I got up but sat right back because I felt so dizzy, I thought I would fall down. No! This was not happening. This was just a bad dream; everything would return to normal when I woke up. But it was not a bad dream. The news the doctor had just given me. Even though Imyself was a doctor, I wasn’t prepared for this, even though all the symptoms had pointed to this, I had closed my eyes to them, had refused to entertain the thought of it, but here it was, me in front of the doctor, he telling me that Tina’s test results were back, that it was cancer with poor prognosis. This couldn’t be happening. The year was 2008, and she was only forty-five. Our kids were still so young. This was not how it was meant to be, how I had dreamt it. No. She was supposed to grow old with me, to be the mother of our kids until they were done with school, were married, had kids. Our grandkids were supposed to come and visit every weekend, us spoiling them to the annoyance of their parents. I felt shattered. At the same time, I had to be strong for her. I picked up my faith and called upon my God, enlisting the help of our pastors, including my friend and brother, the Reverend MensahOtabil, who called and prayed with us every Saturday morning, for a whole year. In the meantime, Tina began chemotherapy. I needed a miracle. I knew she would die eventually, but I prayed for God to give us some more time, at least until the children were all done with high school. Besides, this was America. It wasn’t even Ghana where there wasn’t enough medical technology. America was the land of possibilities. And yet, in spite of all the advanced treatments, in spite of all my prayers, all my hope for a miracle, Tina died, five years later, at the young age of fifty. It was devastating! Who would be the mother to my children? Who would be there when I came back from work? Who would be there to laugh at my jokes, to be angry at my inconsistencies, to encourage me through my failures and disappointments, to be a shoulder to cry on, on the days I needed one? Just like that, and my best friend was gone. So, I gave up on God and I almost gave up on myself, all my former confidence going down the drain. What was the use of being a doctor, if I couldn’t even save my own wife? I was in a dark place for a long time, only managing to keep my sanity for my children’s sake. Tragedy 25 The Birthday Journal
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