While growing up, taking medications, especially injections were always my worst nightmare. I would pretend I was fine even when I am not. My mum would have to force me to take drugs whenever I am ill.
I remembered many years ago while I was still in primary school. I went out with my classmates and seniors to an Islamic program. The headquarters of my Madrasat (Muslim school) is having a program and all branches must attend together with their students. My Ustaz (Muslim school teacher) had gone there a day before to make some preparations, so we were to go with our seniors who knew the place.
It was on a weekend, and my Dad allowed me to go because he loves such programs. I knew he will never stop me from going no matter how far the place is. I and the others went by bus because the place of the occasion was far from my place. When we got to the junction, we came down and had to walk the remaining distance to the venue. We had walked through a narrow street though it was a busy one. I remembered being told to leave the road because a Bike man was driving at a very high speed into the road, only God knows if he had taken alcohol or so.
I didn't look back when I was told to leave the road. I just moved not knowing I was moving in the Bike man's direction, and because he couldn't control the brake in time, he bumped into me. I fell and had a little bruise on my leg. People gathered and told him to take me to the hospital, but I told them that I was fine as I wasn't bleeding. After much pressure from people around, he took me on his bike and one of the seniors followed me and we went to the hospital.
When we got to the hospital, I told the nurses around that I was fine, though I was feeling a little pain in my leg. I couldn't say anything due to fear of being injected. I knew I was going to feel a lot of pain later on but it wasn't compared to the fear of injection. I just had to keep repeating the words, "I am fine." Since I said I was fine, the nurses didn't bother checking anything. The bike man himself didn't waste much time and he took me and the senior to the venue. I remembered him giving me #200 (Two Hundred Naira) before he left. I was so happy that I have money to buy sweets and other junk I could think of.
After the program, we went back home, and one of the seniors followed me home to explain to my parents what had happened, but they weren't at home. I told him I will tell them myself which I never did.
When night came, It then I got to know the real meaning of pain as I couldn't sleep. I was in severe pain and my cries woke my mum who inquired to know what happened. I had no choice than narrate all that happened to her. She asked why I didn't tell her sooner but I defended myself by saying, I didn't know I will feel this much pain as I thought it was nothing. She quickly swung into action and gave me some pain relief. After that, she rubbed some herbal ointment on my leg and I was able to sleep a bit till morning.
I couldn't go to school the next day as I couldn't walk properly. I was later taken to the hospital where I was given the right medications. My mum blamed me for not speaking up on time. She warned me not to try such again, and to always speak up to avoid such a thing. I learned my lesson that day because of the painful night experience.
How crazy it is that sometimes, the things we don't like end up being what we love. Here I am now the;
"Queen of taking Injections".
How awesome is that? Whenever I am ill now, I prefer injections to drugs because of the aftertaste some drugs do have, but if it requires me to take both, I will gladly take both with joy.
Thanks for reading.