On the night of Sunday July 20, 2014, Patrick Sawyer
was wheeled into the Emergency Room at First
Consultants Medical Centre, Obalende, Lagos, with
complaints of fever and body weakness. The male
doctor on call admitted him as a case of malaria and
took a full history. Knowing that Mr Sawyer had
recently arrived from Liberia, the doctor asked if he
had been in contact with an Ebola patient in the last
couple of weeks, and Mr. Sawyer denied any such
contact. He also denied attending any funeral
ceremony recently. Blood samples were taken for full
blood count, malaria parasites, liver function test and
other baseline investigations. He was admitted into a
private room and started on antimalarial drugs and
analgesics. That night, the full blood count result
came back as normal and not indicative of infection.
The following day however, his condition worsened.
He barely ate any of his meals. His liver function test
result showed his liver enzymes were markedly
elevated. We then took samples for HIV and hepatitis
screening.
At about 5.00pm, he requested to see a doctor. I was
the doctor on call that night so I went in to see him.
He was lying in bed with his intravenous (I.V.) fluid
bag removed from its metal stand and placed beside
him. He complained that he had stooled about five
times that evening and that he wanted to use the
bathroom again. I picked up the I.V. bag from his bed
and hung it back on the stand. I told him I would
inform a nurse to come and disconnect the I.V. so he
could conveniently go to the bathroom. I walked out
of his room and went straight to the nurses’ station
where I told the nurse on duty to disconnect his I.V. I
then informed my Consultant, Dr. Ameyo Adadevoh
about the patient’s condition and she asked that he
be placed on some medications.

The following day, the results for HIV and hepatitis
screening came out negative. As we were preparing
for the early morning ward rounds, I was approached
by an ECOWAS official who informed me that Patrick
Sawyer had to catch an 11 o’clock flight to Calabar
for a retreat that morning. He wanted to know if it
would be possible. I told him it wasn’t, as he was
acutely ill. Dr. Adadevoh also told him the patient
could certainly not leave the hospital in his condition.
She then instructed me to write very boldly on his
chart that on no account should Patrick Sawyer be
allowed out of the hospital premises without the
permission of Dr. Ohiaeri, our Chief Medical
Consultant. All nurses and doctors were duly
informed.
During our early morning ward round with Dr.
Adadevoh, we concluded that this was not malaria
and that the patient needed to be screened for Ebola
Viral Disease. She immediately started calling
laboratories to find out where the test could be
carried out. She was eventually referred to Professor
Omilabu of the LUTH Virology Reference Lab in Idi-
Araba whom she called immediately. Prof. Omilabu
told her to send blood and urine samples to LUTH
straight away. She tried to reach the Lagos State
Commissioner for Health but was unable to contact
him at the time. She also put calls across to officials
of the Federal Ministry of Health and National Centre
for Disease Control.
Dr. Adadevoh at this time was in a pensive mood.
Patrick Sawyer was now a suspected case of Ebola,
perhaps the first in the country. He was quarantined,
and strict barrier nursing was applied with all the
precautionary measures we could muster. Dr.
Adadevoh went online, downloaded information on
Ebola and printed copies which were distributed to
the nurses, doctors and ward maids. Blood and urine
samples were sent to LUTH that morning. Protective
gear, gloves, shoe covers and facemasks were
provided for the staff. A wooden barricade was placed
at the entrance of the door to keep visitors and
unauthorized personnel away from the patient.
Despite the medications prescribed earlier, the
vomiting and diarrhea persisted. The fever escalated
from 38c to 40c.

On the morning of Wednesday 23rd July, the tests
carried out in LUTH showed a signal for Ebola.
Samples were then sent to Dakar, Senegal for a
confirmatory test. Dr. Adadevoh went for several
meetings with the Lagos State Ministry of Health.
Thereafter, officials from Lagos State came to inspect
the hospital and the protective measures we had put
in place.
The following day, Thursday 24th July, I was again on
call. At about 10.00pm Mr. Sawyer requested to see
me. I went into the newly created dressing room,
donned my protective gear and went in to see him.
He had not been cooperating with the nurses and
had refused any additional treatment. He sounded
confused and said he received a call from Liberia
asking for a detailed medical report to be sent to
them. He also said he had to travel back to Liberia on
a 5.00am flight the following morning and that he
didn’t want to miss his flight. I told him that I would
inform Dr. Adadevoh. As I was leaving the room, I
met Dr. Adadevoh dressed in her protective gear
along with a nurse and another doctor. They went
into his room to have a discussion with him and as I
heard later to reset his I.V. line which he had
deliberately removed after my visit to his room.
At 6:30am, Friday 25th July, I got a call from the
nurse that Patrick Sawyer was completely
unresponsive. Again I put on the protective gear and
headed to his room. I found him slumped in the
bathroom. I examined him and observed that there
was no respiratory movement. I felt for his pulse; it
was absent. We had lost him. It was I who certified
Patrick Sawyer dead. I informed Dr. Adadevoh
immediately and she instructed that no one was to
be allowed to go into his room for any reason at all.
Later that day, officials from W.H.O came and took
his body away. The test in Dakar later came out
positive for Zaire strain of the Ebola virus. We now
had the first official case of Ebola virus disease in
Nigeria.
It was a sobering day. We all began to go over all that
happened in the last few days, wondering just how
much physical contact we had individually made with
Patrick Sawyer. Every patient on admission was
discharged that day and decontamination began in
the hospital. We were now managing a crisis
situation. The next day, Saturday 26th July, all staff
of First Consultants attended a meeting with Prof.
Nasidi of the National Centre for Disease Control, Prof
Omilabu of LUTH Virology Reference Lab, and some
officials of W.H.O. They congratulated us on the
actions we had taken and enlightened us further
about the Ebola Virus Disease. They said we were
going to be grouped into high risk and low risk
categories based on our individual level of exposure
to Patrick Sawyer, the “index” case. Each person
would receive a temperature chart and a
thermometer to record temperatures in the morning
and night for the next 21 days. We were all officially
under surveillance. We were asked to report to them
at the first sign of a fever for further blood tests to be
done. We were reassured that we would all be given
adequate care. The anxiety in the air was palpable.

The frenetic pace of life in Lagos, coupled with the
demanding nature of my job as a doctor, means that
I occasionally need a change of environment. As
such, one week before Patrick Sawyer died, I had
gone to my parents’ home for a retreat. I was still
staying with them when I received my temperature
chart and thermometer on Tuesday 29th of July. I
could not contain my anxiety. People were talking
Ebola everywhere – on television, online, everywhere.
I soon started experiencing joint and muscle aches
and a sore throat, which I quickly attributed to stress
and anxiety. I decided to take malaria tablets. I also
started taking antibiotics for the sore throat. The first
couple of temperature readings were normal. Every
day I would attempt to recall the period Patrick
Sawyer was on admission – just how much direct and
indirect contact did I have with him? I reassured
myself that my contact with him was quite minimal. I
completed the anti-malarials but the aches and pains
persisted. I had loss of appetite and felt very tired.
On Friday 1st of August, my temperature read a high
38.7c. As I type this, I recall the anxiety I felt that
morning. I could not believe what I saw on the
thermometer. I ran to my mother’s room and told
her. I did not go to work that day. I cautiously started
using a separate set of utensils and cups from the
ones my family members were using.
On Saturday 2nd of August, the fever worsened. It
was now at 39c and would not be reduced by taking
paracetamol. This was now my second day of fever. I
couldn’t eat. The sore throat was getting worse. That
was when I called the helpline and an ambulance was
sent with W.H.O doctors who came and took a
sample of my blood. Later that day, I started stooling
and vomiting. I stayed away from my family. I started
washing my plates and spoons myself. My parents
meanwhile, were convinced that I could not have
Ebola.
The following day, Sunday 3rd of August, I got a call
from one of the doctors who came to take my sample
the day before. He told me that the sample which
was they had taken was not confirmatory, and that
they needed another sample. He did not sound very
coherent and I became worried. They came with the
ambulance that afternoon and told me that I had to
go with them to Yaba. I was confused. Couldn’t the
second sample be taken in the ambulance like the
previous one? He said a better-qualified person at the
Yaba centre would take the sample. I asked if they
would bring me back. He said “yes.” Even with the
symptoms I did not believe I had Ebola. After all, my
contact with Sawyer was minimal. I only touched his
I.V. fluid bag just that once without gloves. The only
time I actually touched him was when I checked his
pulse and confirmed him dead, and I wore double
gloves and felt adequately protected.
I told my parents I had to go with the officials to Yaba
and that I would be back that evening. I wore a white
top and a pair of jeans, and I put my iPad and phones
in my bag.
A man opened the ambulance door for me and
moved away from me rather swiftly. Strange
behavior, I thought. They were friendly with me the
day before, but that day, not so. No pleasantries, no
smiles. I looked up and saw my mother watching
through her bedroom window.
We soon got to Yaba. I really had no clue where I was.
I knew it was a hospital. I was left alone in the back of
the ambulance for over four hours. My mind was in a
whirl. I didn’t know what to think. I was offered food
to eat but I could barely eat the rice.

The ambulance door opened and a Caucasian
gentleman approached me but kept a little distance.
He said to me, “I have to inform you that your blood
tested positive for Ebola. I am sorry.” I had no
reaction. I think I must have been in shock. He then
told me to open my mouth and he looked at my
tongue. He said it was the typical Ebola tongue. I
took out my mirror from my bag and took a look and I
was shocked at what I saw. My whole tongue had a
white coating, looked furry and had a long, deep
ridge right in the middle. I then started to look at my
whole body, searching for Ebola rashes and other
signs as we had been recently instructed. I called my
mother immediately and said, “Mummy, they said I
have Ebola, but don’t worry, I will survive it. Please,
go and lock my room now; don’t let anyone inside
and don’t touch anything.” She was silent. I cut the
line.
I was taken to the female ward. I was shocked at the
environment. It looked like an abandoned building. I
suspected it had not been in use for quite a while. As
I walked in, I immediately recognized one of the ward
maids from our hospital. She always had a smile for
me but not this time. She was ill and she looked it.
She had been stooling a lot too. I soon settled into
my corner and looked around the room. It smelled of
faeces and vomit. It also had a characteristic Ebola
smell to which I became accustomed. Dinner was
served – rice and stew. The pepper stung my mouth
and tongue. I dropped the spoon. No dinner that
night.
Dr. David, the Caucasian man who had met me at the
ambulance on my arrival, came in wearing his full
protective ‘hazmat’ suit and goggles. It was
fascinating seeing one live. I had only seen them
online. He brought bottles of water and ORS, the oral
fluid therapy which he dropped by my bedside. He
told me that 90 percent of the treatment depended
on me. He said I had to drink at least 4.5 litres of ORS
daily to replace fluids lost in stooling and vomiting. I
told him I had stooled three times earlier and taken
Imodium tablets to stop the stooling. He said it was
not advisable, as the virus would replicate the more
inside of me. It was better he said to let it out. He
said good night and left.
My parents called. My uncle called. My husband
called crying. He could not believe the news. My
parents had informed him, as I didn’t even know how
to break the news to him.
As I lay on my bed in that isolation ward, strangely, I
did not fear for my life. I was confident that I would
leave that ward some day. There was an inner sense
of calm. I did not for a second think I would be
consumed by the disease. That evening, the
symptoms fully kicked in. I was stooling almost every
two hours. The toilets did not flush so I had to fetch
water in a bucket from the bathroom each time I
used the toilet. I then placed another bucket beneath
my bed for the vomiting.
On occasion I would run to the toilet with a bottle of
ORS, so that as I was stooling, I was drinking.
The next day Monday 4th of August, I began to notice
red rashes on my skin particularly on my arms. I had
developed sores all over my mouth. My head was
pounding so badly. The sore throat was so severe I
could not eat. I could only drink the ORS. I took
paracetamol for the pain. The ward maid across from
me wasn’t doing so well. She had stopped speaking. I
couldn’t even brush my teeth; the sores in my mouth
were so bad. This was a battle for my life but I was
determined I would not die.
Every morning, I began the day with reading and
meditating on Psalm 91. The sanitary condition in the
ward left much to be desired. The whole Ebola thing
had caught everyone by surprise. Lagos State
Ministry of Health was doing its best to contain the
situation but competent hands were few. The sheets
were not changed for days. The floor was stained
with greenish vomitus and excrement. Dr. David
would come in once or twice a day and help clean up
the ward after chatting with us. He was the only
doctor who attended to us. There was no one else at
that time. The matrons would leave our food outside
the door; we had to go get the food ourselves. They
hardly entered in the initial days. Everyone was
being careful. This was all so new. I could
understand, was this not how we ourselves had
contracted the disease? Mosquitoes were our
roommates until they brought us mosquito nets.

Later that evening, Dr. David brought another lady
into the ward. I recognized her immediately as
Justina Ejelonu, a nurse who had started working at
First Consultants on the 21st of July, a day after
Patrick Saywer was admitted. She was on duty on the
day Patrick reported that he was stooling. While she
was attending to him that night, he had yanked off
his drip, letting his blood flow almost like a tap onto
her hands. Justina was pregnant and was brought
into our ward bleeding from a suspected miscarriage.
She had been told she was there only on observation.
The news that she had contracted Ebola was broken
to her the following day after results of her blood test
came out positive. Justina was devastated and wept
profusely – she had contracted Ebola on her first day
at work.
My husband started visiting but was not allowed to
come close to me. He could only see me from a
window at a distance. He visited so many times. It
was he who brought me a change of clothes and
toiletries and other things I needed because I had not
even packed a bag. I was grateful I was not with him
at home when I fell ill or he would most certainly
have contracted the disease. My retreat at my
parents’ home turned out to be the instrumentality
God used to shield and save him.
I drank the ORS fluid like my life depended on it.
Then I got a call from my pastor. He had been
informed about my predicament. He called me every
single day morning and night and would pray with
me over the phone. He later sent me a CD player,
CDs of messages on faith and healing, and Holy
Communion packs through my husband. My pastor,
who also happens to be a medical doctor, encouraged
me to monitor how many times I had stooled and
vomited each day and how many bottles of ORS I had
consumed. We would then discuss the disease and
pray together. He asked me to do my research on
Ebola since I had my iPad with me and told me that
he was also doing his study. He wanted us to use all
relevant information on Ebola to our advantage. So I
researched and found out all I could about the
strange disease that has been in existence for 38
years. My research, my faith, my positive view of life,
the extended times of prayer, study and listening to
encouraging messages boosted my belief that I
would survive the Ebola scourge.
There are five strains of the virus and the deadliest of
them is the Zaire strain, which was what I had. But
that did not matter. I believed I would overcome even
the deadliest of strains. Infected patients who
succumb to the disease usually die between 6 to 16
days after the onset of the disease from multiple
organ failure and shock caused by dehydration. I was
counting the days and keeping myself well hydrated.
I didn’t intend to die in that ward.
My research gave me ammunition. I read that as
soon as the virus gets into the body, it begins to
replicate really fast. It enters the blood cells, destroys
them and uses those same blood cells to
aggressively invade other organs where they further
multiply. Ideally, the body’s immune system should
immediately mount up a response by producing
antibodies to fight the virus. If the person is strong
enough, and that strength is sustained long enough
for the immune system to kill off the viruses, the
patient is likely to survive. If the virus replicates
faster than the antibodies can handle however,
further damage is done to the organs. Ebola can be
likened to a multi-level, multi-organ attack but I had
no intention of letting the deadly virus destroy my
system. I drank more ORS. I remember saying to
myself repeatedly, “I am a survivor, I am a survivor.”
I also found out that a patient with Ebola cannot be
re-infected and they cannot relapse back into the
disease as there is some immunity conferred on
survivors. My pastor and I would discuss these
findings, interpret them as it related to my situation
and pray together. I looked forward to his calls. They
were times of encouragement and strengthening. I
continued to meditate on the Word of God. It was my
daily bread.

Shortly after Justina came into the ward, the ward
maid, Mrs Ukoh passed on. The disease had gotten
into her central nervous system. We stared at her
lifeless body in shock. It was a whole 12 hours before
officials of W.H.O came and took her body away. The
ward had become the house of death. The whole area
surrounding her bed was disinfected with bleach. Her
mattress was taken and burned.
To contain the frequent diarrhea, I had started
wearing adult diapers, as running to the toilet was no
longer convenient for me. The indignity was quite
overwhelming, but I did not have a choice. My faith
was being severely tested. The situation was
desperate enough to break anyone psychologically.
Dr. Ohiaeri also called us day and night, enquiring
about our health and the progress we were making.
He sent provisions, extra drugs, vitamins, Lucozade,
towels, tissue paper; everything we needed to be
more comfortable in that dark hole we found
ourselves. Some of my male colleagues had also
been admitted to the male ward two rooms away, but
there was no interaction with them.
We were saddened by the news that Jato, the
ECOWAS protocol officer to Patrick Sawyer who had
also tested positive, had passed on days after he was
admitted.
Two more females joined us in the ward; a nurse
from our hospital and a patient from another
hospital. The mood in the ward was solemn. There
were times we would be awakened by the sudden,
loud cry from one of the women. It was either from
fear, pain mixed with the distress or just the sheer
oppression of our isolation.
I kept encouraging myself. This could not be the end
for me. Five days after I was admitted, the vomiting
stopped. A day after that, the diarrhea ceased. I was
overwhelmed with joy. It happened at a time I
thought I could no longer stand the ORS. Drinking
that fluid had stretched my endurance greatly.
I knew countless numbers of people were praying for
me. Prayer meetings were being held on my behalf.
My family was praying day and night. Text messages
of prayers flooded my phones from family members
and friends. I was encouraged to press on. With the
encouragement I was receiving I began to encourage
the others in the ward. We decided to speak life and
focus on the positive. I then graduated from drinking
only the ORS fluid to eating only bananas, to drinking
pap and then bland foods. Just when I thought I had
the victory, I suddenly developed a severe fever. The
initial fever had subsided four days after I was
admitted, and then suddenly it showed up again. I
thought it was the Ebola. I enquired from Dr. David
who said fever was sometimes the last thing to go,
but he expressed surprise that it had stopped only to
come back on again. I was perplexed.
I discussed it with my pastor who said it could be a
separate pathology and possibly a symptom of
malaria. He promised he would research if indeed
this was Ebola or something else. That night as I
stared at the dirty ceiling, I felt a strong impression
that the new fever I had developed was not as a
result of Ebola but malaria. I was relieved. The
following morning, Dr. Ohiaeri sent me antimalarial
medication which I took for three days. Before the
end of the treatment, the fever had disappeared.

I began to think about my mother. She was under
surveillance along with my other family members. I
was worried. She had touched my sweat. I couldn’t
get the thought off my mind. I prayed for her. Hours
later on Twitter I came across a tweet by W.H.O
saying that the sweat of an Ebola patient cannot
transmit the virus at the early stage of the infection.
The sweat could only transmit it at the late stage.
That settled it for me. It calmed the storms that were
raging within me concerning my parents. I knew
right away it was divine guidance that caused me to
see that tweet. I could cope with having Ebola, but I
was not prepared to deal with a member of my family
contracting it from me.
Soon, volunteer doctors started coming to help Dr.
David take care of us. They had learned how to
protect themselves. Among the volunteer doctors
was Dr. Badmus, my consultant in LUTH during my
housemanship days. It was good to see a familiar
face among the care-givers. I soon understood the
important role these brave volunteers were playing.
As they increased in number, so did the number of
shifts increase and subsequently the number of
times the patients could access a doctor in one day.
This allowed for more frequent patient monitoring
and treatment. It also reduced care-giver fatigue. It
was clear that Lagos State was working hard to
contain the crisis
Sadly, Justina succumbed to the disease on the 12th
of August. It was a great blow and my faith was
greatly shaken as a result. I commenced daily Bible
study with the other two female patients and we
would encourage one another to stay positive in our
outlook though in the natural it was grim and very
depressing. My communion sessions with the other
women were very special moments for us all.
On my 10th day in the ward, the doctors having
noted that I had stopped vomiting and stooling and
was no longer running a fever, decided it was time to
take my blood sample to test if the virus had cleared
from my system. They took the sample and told me
that I shouldn’t be worried if it comes out positive as
the virus takes a while before it is cleared
completely. I prayed that I didn’t want any more
samples collected from me. I wanted that to be the
first and last sample to be tested for the absence of
the virus in my system. I called my pastor. He
encouraged me and we prayed again about the test.
On the evening of the day Justina passed on, we were
moved to the new isolation centre. We felt like we
were leaving hell and going to heaven.
We were conveyed to the new place in an ambulance.
It was just behind the old building. Time would not
permit me to recount the drama involved with the
dynamics of our relocation. It was like a script from a
science fiction movie. The new building was cleaner
and much better than the old building. Towels and
nightwear were provided on each bed. The
environment was serene.
The following night, Dr. Adadevoh was moved to our
isolation ward from her private room where she had
previously been receiving treatment. She had also
tested positive for Ebola and was now in a coma. She
was receiving I.V. fluids and oxygen support and was
being monitored closely by the W.H.O doctors. We all
hoped and prayed that she would come out of it. It
was so difficult seeing her in that state. I could not
bear it. She was my consultant, my boss, my teacher
and my mentor. She was the imperial lady of First
Consultants, full of passion, energy and competence.
I imagined she would wake up soon and see that she
was surrounded by her First Consultants family but
sadly it was not to be.
I continued listening to my healing messages. They
gave me life. I literarily played them hours on end.
Two days later, on Saturday the 16th of August, the
W.H.O doctors came with some papers. I was
informed that the result of my blood test was
negative for Ebola virus. If I could somersault, I would
have but my joints were still slightly painful. I was
free to go home after being in isolation for exactly 14
days. I was so full of thanks and praise to God. I
called my mother to get fresh clothes and slippers
and come pick me. My husband couldn’t stop
shouting when I called him. He was completely
overwhelmed with joy.
I was told however that I could not leave the ward
with anything I came in with. I glanced one last time
at my cd player, my valuable messages, my research
assistant a.k.a my iPad, my phones and other items. I
remember saying to myself, “I have life; I can always
replace these items.”

I went for a chlorine bath, which was necessary to
disinfect my skin from my head to my toes. It felt like
I was being baptized into a new life as Dr. Carolina, a
W.H.O doctor from Argentina poured the bucket of
chlorinated water all over me. I wore a new set of
clothes, following the strict instructions that no part
of the clothes must touch the floor and the walls. Dr.
Carolina looked on, making sure I did as instructed.
I was led out of the bathroom and straight to the
lawn to be united with my family, but first I had to
cut the red ribbon that served as a barrier. It was a
symbolic expression of my freedom. Everyone
cheered and clapped. It was a little but very
important ceremony for me. I was free from Ebola! I
hugged my family as one who had been liberated
after many years of incarceration. I was like someone
who had fought death face to face and come back to
the land of the living.
We had to pass through several stations of
disinfection before we reached the car. Bleach and
chlorinated water were sprayed on everyone’s legs at
each station. As we made our way to the car, we
walked past the old isolation building. I could hardly
recognize it. I could not believe I slept in that
building for 10 days. I was free! Free of Ebola. Free to
live again. Free to interact with humanity again. Free
from the sentence of death.
My parents and two brothers were under surveillance
for 21 days and they completed the surveillance
successfully. None of them came down with a fever.
The house had been disinfected by Lagos State
Ministry of Health soon after I was taken to the
isolation centre. I thank God for shielding them from
the plague.
My recovery after discharge has been gradual but
progressive. I thank God for the support of family and
friends. I remember my colleagues who we lost in
this battle. Dr. Adadevoh my boss, Nurse Justina
Ejelonu, and the ward maid, Mrs. Ukoh were heroines
who lost their lives in the cause to protect Nigeria.
They will never be forgotten.
I commend the dedication of the W.H.O doctors, Dr.
David from Virginia, USA, who tried several times to
convince me to specialize in infectious diseases, Dr.
Carolina from Argentina who spoke so calmly and
encouragingly, Mr. Mauricio from Italy who always
offered me apples and gave us novels to read. I
especially thank the volunteer Nigerian doctors,
matrons and cleaners who risked their lives to take
care of us. I must also commend the Lagos State
government, and the state and federal ministries of
health for their swift efforts to contain the virus. To
all those prayed for me, I cannot thank you enough.
And to my First Consultants family, I say a heartfelt
thank you for your dedication and for your support
throughout this very difficult period.
I still believe in miracles. None of us in the isolation
ward was given any experimental drugs or so-called
immune boosters. I was full of faith yet pragmatic
enough to consume as much ORS as I could even
when I wanted to give up and throw the bottles away.
I researched on the disease extensively and read
accounts of the survivors. I believed that even if the
mortality rate was 99%, I would be part of the 1%
who survive.
Early detection and reporting to hospital is key to
patient survival. Please do not hide yourself if you
have been in contact with an Ebola patient and have
developed the symptoms. Regardless of any grim
stories one may have heard about the treatment of
patients in the isolation centre, it is still better to be
in the isolation ward with specialist care, than at
home where you and others will be at risk.
I read that Dr. Kent Brantly, the American doctor who
contracted Ebola in Liberia and was flown out to the
United States for treatment was being criticized for
attributing his healing to God when he was given the
experimental drug, Zmapp. I don’t claim to have all
the answers to the nagging questions of life. Why do
some die and some survive? Why do bad things
happen to good people? Where is God in the midst of
pain and suffering? Where does science end and God
begin? These are issues we may never fully
comprehend on this side of eternity. All I know is that
I walked through the valley of the shadow of death
and came out unscathed.

Chartey: www.bellanaija.com/2014/09/15/must-read-through-the-valley-of-the-shadow-of-death-dr-ada-igonoh-survived-ebola-this-is-her-story/

chioma134: May the Lord's name be praised forever. He has broken the gates of brass and cut the bars of iron in sunder. God is still God. He'll never change. Miracle worker,You are too much. My mouth will sing Your praises all day long. I'll forever worship you.