Bright Side Of Darkness

When light enters a dark room, no matter how streaky that light is, there is instant illumination. That is the power of light over darkness. This is better understood when you switch off the light in your sitting room at night. What happens? Thick darkness. When you switch on the light, what happens? Blinding brightness.

Again, imagine how dark a tunnel is and you have to crawl through to the other side. You are on your hands and knees, tolerating the thick darkness around you, in the hope that in no time at all you will reach the end of the tunnel and, of course, light awaits you.

Putting it succinctly, in life there are periods of light and darkness. The latter we would rather not have at all, if possible. Why? The reasons are not farfetched: Darkness is synonymous with sorrow, forces of evil, tragedy, lack of focus, disappointments, spiritless, death, and difficult times. On the other hand, light depicts hope, victory, success, contentment, focus, happiness, achievement, and spiritual fulfilment.

When you are advised to look on the bright side of life, it means be thankful, be hopeful, be grateful for things you have taken for granted, be contented; in the midst of tribulations be ready to see your cup as half full, not half empty. Where is all this philosophy leading me? It is taking me to a very moving story about a young man who fell in love with a sweet girl suffering from leukemia, cancer of the blood cells.  The crux of the story is about love, hope, the determination of two people to fight the disease together against all odds, and most of all it is about standing on the bright side of darkness.

Gift has always been a special child to her parents. The circumstances of her birth was quite mysterious, hence the name Gift, God’s Gift to be precise. Gift is an only child. She came along after her parents had tried for thirteen years to have children, so you can imagine the joy. Gift’s parents are immensely rich. They have everything money can buy, so they showered her with love and much pampering. She grew up to be emotionally attached to her mother. Her father too, yes, but there was something really special about her mum; beautiful, caring, loving, tender and so fragile. Gift remembered that while she was a child, although her mother was always in and out of hospital, she always kept a cheerful demeanour. But at night she would hear her mother groaning, crying and vomiting all through the night. Her father was distraught, running everywhere confused. One night she saw her father cry like a baby.

‘What is the matter, Daddy?’ She asked going over to hug him.

‘Mummy is very ill and she will have to go into the hospital tomorrow morning.’

‘Will they make her better at the hospital?’

‘Only God can. I trust him to make your mummy whole again.’

Gift’s mother died four weeks later from cervical cancer at the hospital. Gift was only eight years old. She could not understand why her mother had to go away and leave her alone. She missed her so much that even her father’s presence could not diminish the emptiness she felt inside. For the next ten years, Gift’s life was one of attention, love on one hand from her father, and brilliance at her studies on the other. She even took part in sports, was physically active and a first class swimmer. Her father’s wealth did not spoil her. She was realistic, friendly to everyone and just went with the flow when she finally got into the university to study law. Gift admired her father’s law firm, and when she was younger would spend time at the courts, just relishing the manner her father prosecuted or defended cases, according to briefs received.

Second year into her law degree, Gift began to feel ill. It started with breathlessness after active sports and her enthusiasm for exercise began to wane. She was just too tired. Her get-up-and-go approach to life was soon replaced with a new struggle to get up in the morning, and the pain of having to walk from her hostel to class was too much. To make matters worse, she just never seemed to get rid of her sporadic chest cough. She got the fright of her life one day when she found her white handkerchief soaked in blood while trying to blow her nose. That did it. She called her father, who felt suddenly ill himself because he had a premonition of another bombshell.

Gift was taken to the hospital and a blood and bone marrow sample taken. After thorough analysis of both samples, diagnosis revealed acute myeloid leukemia, and the only treatment would be to eradicate the abnormal malignant cells, allowing the normal cells to re-populate the bone marrow. What this means was chemotherapy. Gift took the news calmly but her father broke down and wept, because he had been through this road before and knew what chemotherapy did to his wife. But there was no choice if the abnormal cells were to be destroyed.

The chemotherapy commenced and Gift began to experience what hell was like. She was not sure which was worse, the sickness after a dose of chemotherapy, or the symptoms of leukemia which were uncomfortable, but still bearable. Although Gift lost a lot of weight and colour, you could still not mistake her beauty; her cheekbones, full lips and those misty eyes. These were the rare features that Paul saw the first day he set eyes on this stunning lovely lady.

Paul was twenty-five years old and in his last year at medical school. Part of his schedule for the day was a tour of the wards with Professor Stevenson. Paul was in a group of five of his classmates. They got to Gift, and she was propped up on one hand, with a pillow to support her elbow, her face mischievous in a sort of charming way, a half-smile playing on those kissable lips.

‘Stay focused, man. This is not the time to day dream,’ a voice inside Paul warned him.

‘Good morning, Professor. I can see I’m going to be the guinea pig again,’ Gift said softly.

‘No my dear, you’ll never be a guinea pig. We’re here to see how you are responding to treatment.’

‘Lousy, Sir. I hate this chemo thing. I’m losing my hair, that’s why I have this red scarf on, and I can’t stop being sick. I spent my night throwing up.’

‘I have advised your father to get you a live-in nurse who can administer the drugs, that is if you want to complete the chemo in the comfort of your house.’

‘That will be a splendid idea. At least then I can continue my studies, listen to my CDs and read my favourite books.’

‘By the way let me introduce you to these gentlemen and ladies of the medical profession. This is Laitan, Mike, Amaka, Paul and Fred.’

They each moved forward to say hello, but it was Paul’s eyes that caught her attention most. Paul stood about two heads taller than the rest. He had chocolate skin, was too good-looking and too well groomed for a medical student, she thought. The belief in most universities is that all medical students are bookworms who do nothing else but study; hence they have no time for themselves or for anybody else.

 ‘Hi Gift,’ the students all chorused.

‘Hello,’ she replied.

After the usual questions and answers, they said their goodbyes and moved on to the next ward.

A couple of days later, Gift was feeling extremely tired and generally unwell. She laid in her bed with the duvet up to her chin to warm up, her mind drifting aimlessly, when a voice brought her back.

‘How are you, Gift?’

She looked up to see a familiar face staring down at her.

‘You’re Paul. You came with the group yesterday?’

‘Yes, how is your health, but the visit was two days ago?’

‘Yep, sure. I’m not too good, but still keeping my chin up as you can see.’

‘Is that what you call keeping your chin up or keeping warm?’ He moved near and placed his palm on her forehead. ‘You’re hot and you look a little down.’

‘I wish I could stop shivering, and I think I’m going to be sick again. Please help me get the bedpan.’

Paul looked under the bed and was just in time to place the pan under her chin, as she threw up.

‘I’m sorry, Paul. I can’t keep it down.’

‘It’s okay.’ Paul took his clean handkerchief and wiped her mouth.

‘Shall I call the nurse?’

‘No not for now. Stay a while with me.’

‘Sure that is why I came. I had to see you again.’

‘Ha! I’m going to be used for more medical clues?’

‘No. I was curious about you and needed to know more. I have no further lectures until tomorrow.’

They talked about different things: likes, dislikes, desires, hopes, ambition, and values. In the midst of it, the duty nurse came, performed the usual routine of checking her temperature, changing the bowl and settling her down more comfortably.

‘Paul, please don’t stay too long. Gift needs her rest.’ The nurse told him.

‘Okay, Ma. I’ll be on my way.’ He turned to Gift. ‘Can I see you again soon?’

‘That’s alright, but I should be leaving the hospital in a few days. I prefer to continue my medication at home.’

‘Can I visit you at home? I want to be your friend.’

‘Sure, that will be nice,’ Gift replied.

Gift tore off a piece from the newspaper on her bed, scribbled on it a mobile number and an address and handed it to Paul. They said goodbyes and Paul left.

‘Paul is a very kind and respectful young man. He stands out from his mates. Most patients love him when he visits because he always has kind words for them,’ the duty nurse remarked.

‘Oh, so I’m one of the patients earmarked for his pity?’

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I think there is something extra in your case.’

‘What and why is that?’

‘It’s just a hunch. Anyway, he is a good man. We all need that extra special attention, particularly when it is coming from a handsome, intelligent young man like Paul,’ the nurse winked.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I guess he’s alright. But right now, I feel so ill and lifeless, and am afraid of even thinking about the future.’ Gift said with faraway look in her eyes.

‘Look, Gift, you look like a determined young girl to me,’ the nurse said while tucking her in and propping the pillows up so she could rest her back.

‘All what you see is bravado. I’m scared stiff. You know my mother died of cervical cancer when I was eight. I’m next to go,’ Gift replied with sarcasm.

‘Rubbish. Stop the nonsense talk. By the way I’ve been told you’re going home tomorrow. I’ll look out for you, I promise.’

Gift finally went to her father’s lovely mansion. A live-in nurse was already at hand to take care of her needs and to ensure her diet was nutritionally sound; fruits, vegetables, wholemeal cereals and grains, healthy oils and lots of fish.

Paul decided to visit Gift one Saturday afternoon. He took a taxi to the house and was quite impressed with what he saw. It was an architectural masterpiece. Paul had always been interested in houses and buildings, and would have studied architecture if not that his heart was in medicine. He stood for five minutes just admiring the beams, the edges, the structures, wood panels and the magnificent white paint that covered the entire edifice.

‘Must cost your father a fortune to maintain this house,’ Paul said when he finally got inside, moving forward to give Gift a hug and a peck.

‘For a minute, I was not sure whom you came to see: the house or me? Anyway the house is my father’s, not mine. I’m just a tenant here.’

‘Lucky lady, and how are you feeling?’

‘I feel like Demi Moore in GI Jane,’ Gift said, removing her red scarf to reveal scraped skull.

‘You look great, though.’

‘You are kidding me?’

‘No, never. Brings out your beautiful features more. And who is Demi Moore?’ Paul asked.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t know Demi Moore. She’s an actress. For her role in the military movie GI Jane, she had to scrape her hair off.  She left her husband, Bruce Willis, for Ashton Kutcher, a man younger than her by fifteen years. That is romantic isn’t it?’

That was the beginning of several visits by Paul and also of a meaningful relationship. During those visits, they shared a lot together. They got to know more about each other, and their characteristics came out during these encounters. There was Paul’s caring, unselfishness, intelligence and sensitivity, and Gift’s sweetness, unassuming nature, her love of art, and strong spiritual belief in God as the Supreme Being. Paul taught Gift how to live again, Gift showed him the meaning of love.

‘Let’s go on a week holiday together somewhere, anywhere.’ Gift suddenly burst out one day.

‘Where? But you are still on chemotherapy.’

‘Didn’t I tell you? I have completed the dose for now,’ she lied. I’m fit and can’t you see my hair is growing again. I want you to see me with my hair. I have lovely hair, you know and…’ Gift rambled on.

‘Gift, I’m almost a medical doctor, remember?’ Paul cut her short. ‘Even if you have completed the chemo, you must be under medical supervision for weeks. What if something happens? You can’t be off medication. How do you deal with the pains? No, I won’t risk it. I don’t want you to die on me. No, seriously, forget it.’

‘Who is talking of dying? I’m okay now, see?’ she said, moving back with her arms stretched out.

‘Please come with me for one week. I want to live again normally… like a healthy human being. I want to see the sea. Let’s go to a seaside resort. I want to feel nature on my face. I want to hear the birds. I want to hear the beach palms whisper. I want to be with you. One week, then I promise to come back,’ Gift continued.

‘What about your father? Are we going to tell him? And the nurse?’

‘Both of them I can handle. My father loves me dearly and wants my happiness. His only concern is that I come back as soon as I feel anything wrong. As for the nurse, she thinks you can be trusted to do the right thing, just in case I need to get back to the hospital.’

‘Gift, you know there is nothing I want more than to be with you twenty four hours of the day if possible. I want you to assure me we will cut short the holiday if I observe, or you suspect, the slightest symptom coming up.’

‘Of course, I promise.’

‘Okay, let’s do it.’

They drove the two hours through the most awesome splendid scenery, to a secluded beach resort. It was indeed a tribute to nature. The chalet looked rugged and village-like from outside—what with the thatched roof—but it was very comfortable and decent inside. No telephones. No electricity; and candles provided little light at night. But there was running water and other useful conveniences in the two rooms. No place to cook as they were not expected to cook, but limited foodstuffs available at the reception. There was a shop in the village just ten minutes’ drive away, with stock of drinks, fruits, bread, and tin foods. Also, every night, the caretakers organised a barbecue of fresh fish, crabs, prawns and all sorts of seafood, platters of fresh fruits, vegetables and roots. Fresh coconut milk, mango and guava juice were in abundance.

Gift and Paul would go running along the beach early in the morning, come back to shower, read together, eat together, join the other residents for a chat at the reception, come back, talk some more and retire to bed. They slept in separate rooms until one night when Gift knocked on Paul’s door. Paul opened the door to find Gift drenched in her nightshirt, shivering. Paul was alarmed, and before he could stop himself, pulled her to him and hugged her close.

‘What is wrong, what is the matter?’

‘I can’t sleep. Please can I lie beside you?’

‘Yes, sure. If that is what you want.’ Paul led her to his bed. He gently helped her sit down, pulled her feet on top of the bed and placed the duvet up to her chest to keep her warm.

Paul got next to her, pulled her close, soothed and petted her like a child until she slept off. For thirty minutes, perched on one elbow, Paul stared down at this angelic woman lying next to him, and felt a powerful emotion, sweeping through his body like a strong gale. Before he could stop himself, he bent down and kissed her softly on the mouth. Gift stirred, but slept on snuggling closer to him.

‘My God, I’m deeply in love with this woman,’ he said.

When there was no reply, he continued, ‘I want to marry you. I want to take care of you forever. I want to be there for you. I don’t know how long we will be together, but whatever time God gives us, I pledge to be there for you…in sickness. I will fight this disease with you. I will be your strength. Please, please God, let her love me too.’

‘I love you more, Paul’, Gift said from under the duvet.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ Paul said, slightly embarrassed

‘Yes for a while, but I woke up when you kissed me, but pretended I was still asleep. Paul, I love you. You’ve given me hope. You’re making me live again. Even if I die today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m not going to die. So my mother died from cervical cancer does not pass a death sentence on me. I’m getting treatment and I’m going to beat it, we are going to beat it.’

‘Your determination and positive attitude are some of the things I admire and love about you. But I think you should get checked again. I know you’re trying to hide your illness not to mess up this holiday. I’m almost a doctor and you can’t hide these things from me. Tomorrow we go back. We’ve had the most wonderful five days together. But your health comes first. Agree we go back tomorrow?’

‘Agree,’ Gift said as she snuggled closer and slept in Paul’s arms.

Paul stayed awake for some time, but finally dozed off. He was woken by the sound of someone retching. He threw off the duvet and ran to the toilet to see Gift doubled over the toilet bowl throwing up and in pain.

‘I knew it. Come on darling. It’s okay. You can beat this.’

Paul helped Gift back to the bedroom, cleaned her, laid her down, and moved to throw their clothes together. He ran quickly to finish the check-out process, and back within minutes slightly out of breath. He helped Gift back into the car, dashed to the driver’s seat and drove like a mad man into the city. As soon as he was able to get network on his mobile, he called Gift’s father.

‘Sir, Gift is sick again and I’m bringing her back.’

‘No, take her straight to the hospital. I will meet you there as soon as I get these clients off. Paul? Please stay with her until I get there.’

‘I will, Sir.’

Paul managed to shave off thirty minutes off the two-hour journey, made the connection to the hospital and almost collided with another car while trying to negotiate a bend that led to the car park. He was oblivious to the rain of curses from the other driver. His focus was getting Gift into the hospital as quickly as possible.

‘Hello, Gift,’ ‘Hi, Gift,’ ‘How are you?’ ‘Welcome, Gift,’ echoed through the hospital hallway. Gift managed despite her pains to answer everyone that greeted her with one pleasantry or the other: ‘I’m fine.’ ‘I’m good.’ ‘I couldn’t be better.’

‘You have to complete your chemo, Gift. You cannot afford not to. I’m afraid I have to keep you in the hospital this time,’ Professor Stevenson said.

Gift remained in the hospital for several weeks until after the chemo. She managed the discomfort, pain and after effects of the therapy with Paul’s help.

It has been three years since the fateful meeting in the ward of a private hospital. Paul graduated from medical school, did his residency and embarked on more research into blood diseases like leukemia and sickle cell. Gift also finished her law degree, law school and joined her father’s law firm.

At the moment, Gift is blooming and is not too bad health-wise. She continues to wax stronger because of Paul, a dependable companion who loves her for who she is. Both of them believe life is precious, it is indeed a gift, hence each day must be lived as if it is the last. Paul, as a doctor, knows the hurdle is not over yet and anything could still happen, but the consolation is that Gift will not be alone if the inevitable comes to pass. In the meantime they continue to appreciate each other and grateful for each new day and the faith to welcome the bright side of darkness, even if the future seems frightening. Then again, miracles do happen.

Story Credit: Waving in the Wind by Bisi Abiola, 
https://www.outskirtspress.com/WavingintheWind

Photo Credit: Creative Commons