Day before yesterday, my dad underwent a successful operation. A few months ago, he had been feeling unwell and visited the hospital, where he was diagnosed with appendicitis. The doctor informed us that his appendix needed to be removed.
However, it took some time to convince my dad to undergo the operation. As a farmer and businessman, he was concerned that the surgery would weaken him and prevent him from working on the farm. Despite his initial reservations, he eventually agreed to the operation when his health began to decline again.
The surgery was successful, and my dad slept for over six hours, likely due to the anesthesia. When we visited him at the hospital, he was already sitting up and eager to return home. While I was hesitant for him to be discharged too quickly, knowing his tendency to rush back into work, my mom was also keen for him to return home.
Finally, the doctor gave him the clearance to go home, and he was overjoyed. He quickly got dressed and was eager to leave the hospital. I'm grateful that the operation was successful, and my dad is now recovering at home.
My dad has always been a hardworking man, and I've learned a great deal from him. He's diligent about his farm work and always provides us with fresh produce. We rarely need to buy processed food from the market because he supplies us with raw ingredients from his farm.
During the dry season, he would bring home small yams, which we call 'Isu Ikokoro' in Yoruba. We would peel and sun-dry them to make yam flour. This way, we wouldn't need to buy yam flour from the market. My dad's yam flour was always clean and neat, unlike the black yam flour I encountered when I left home.
As I look back on those days, I remember the mischief my siblings and I would get up to. While my dad was busy with his farm work, we would often sneak into the storage room where he kept the yams meant for yam flour. We'd steal a few of the smaller yams and run off to enjoy our it. Those stolen yams were always the sweetest. God forgive us 😂
Even now, I can prepare neat and clean yam flour myself, thanks to the skills I learned from my dad. Although he never took my younger sister and me to the farm, likely because we were the youngest children, I can still perform various tasks related to farm produce, such as separating beans from their shells and wheat from their chaff.
After the operation, my dad had to take it easy for a while. He spent most of his time in bed, resting and recovering. At first, it was tough for him to even sit up or walk around the house. But with each passing day, he grew stronger and more mobile.
Throughout his recovery, our family was constantly praying for his health and well-being. We thanked God for the successful operation and for giving my dad the strength to recover. We knew that without God's mercy and grace, my dad's recovery wouldn't have been possible.
As my dad continued to heal, we could see the hand of God at work in his life. We were grateful for the gift of health and for the opportunity to care for him during his time of need.