TIME was around 4.00a.m on Friday January 11, 2019. I suddenly woke up with severe body pains, and disturbing headache.
It felt like someone was pounding yam on my head. My bed-sheets and pillow were soaked with sweat, and I felt very weak.
"Not again, " I muttered slowly to myself. " Not today". I had an important appointment that day. I had given the person my word the previous day, and I was determined to keep it.
"Maybe, it's just stress, " I thought. I had a busy week coupled with the stress that comes with living in a city like Lagos. I decided to catch more sleep hoping I'd feel better afterwards.
Moving away from the spot that is covered in sweat, I changed pillows and shut my eyes, inviting sleep.
Sleep honoured my invitation and I dozed off almost immediately only to wake up again. I glanced at the wall clock.
By 5.10a.m, and I still felt the same way, I was left with no other choice than to force myself to sleep again. And, in less than one hour, I was back on my feet.
"This feels like malaria," I said to myself as tried to get up, but my strength failed me. By this time, I was feeling feverish and nauseous.
Dragging myself out of the bed, I quickly dashed to the bathroom to throw up but all that came out was saliva.
I made my way back to the bedroom, but rushed to the bathroom again to vomit without success. Going back to the bedroom, the nauseous feeling returned, and I hurried to back to the bathroom. After throwing up, I felt terribly weak and decided a shower would do me some good.
Malaria is no stranger to me. I have had it not once, but countless times. Long before now, I used to treat malaria mildly because I grew up thinking it was nothing to be worried about. But that thinking changed after I almost lost my Aunt to malaria.
Aunty Theresa was one of those who never took malaria seriously. To her, malaria is a "common" sickness that should be given a "common" treatment.
My Aunt was not alone in this thinking, my dad was too. While growing up, my dad would advise we wait a day or two whenever we took ill to be doubly sure the sickness was one that required seeing a doctor.
"I think you have malaria but let's wait till tomorrow or next, "my dad said to me when I was unwell in primary three. "If you still feel this way, we will go to the hospital." My Aunt learnt the hard way that malaria was not "common" and so did my dad.
"You worry too much, " Aunty Theresa said to me one of the days I paid her a visit and met her ill. "I took paracetamol a while ago. I'll be fine"
When I pressured her to get some treatment, she said she would if the symptoms persists, and it did.
Three weeks after my visit, my Aunt was rushed to the hospital. According to the doctor, the malaria level was so high and she was lucky to be alive.
My Aunt was admitted and spent a little over two weeks in the hospital. When she was discharged, she never treated malaria with kids gloves again.
After taking a shower, I felt a rush of energy. Enough energy to get myself to the hospital since I was home alone. I was certain I had malaria because I had exposed myself to mosquitoes the week before.
In as much as it felt like malaria, my dad always frowned at self medication. He once told my siblings and me a story how a distant relative died treating a wrong ailment.
"He had typhoid, but he was treating malaria. When they realized it was typhoid, he was almost gone, "my dad said. "Most of these ailments have similar symptoms. It's always advisable to get tested before taking any medication. Self medication could be disastrous."
I got to the hospital and thirty minutes later, I was sitting in front of the doctor telling him when the sickness started and the symptoms I had. He opened my hospital file and scribbled something down after which he referred me to the laboratory for some tests.
The laboratory attendant took samples of my blood, and told me the results would be ready in five minutes.
The results came out in less than ten minutes. I tested positive to malaria and was placed on anti-malaria medication. I was advised to eat large before taking the medications, but I barely had the appetite to eat a little.
Besides the lack of appetite, I had this annoying bitter taste in my mouth.
The next day, I thought I'd feel better, but I didn't. I actually felt worse. However, on the third day, I felt a lot better.
I spent three solid days indoors trying to get better. Having malaria messed up my plans that Friday and the days after, but I'm glad I am back on my feet.
Chinwe Agbeze, a journalist in Lagos contributes this piece to share her experience on how Malaria dealt with her recently.
