s Nigeria battles with the outbreak of Ebola, we
consistently commend the dedication and selflessness of
the doctors, nurses and other healthcare professionals.
Lives have been lost, and families have had to undergo the
trauma of isolation. The fear of the unknown even very
crippling. We read about the numbers in the news, but when
we put a face to the news reports, it brings it home. Dr. Ada
Igonoh of First Consultants Hospital is one of the doctors
who attended to Patrick Sawyer. She was infected by the
virus and miraculously, she survives to share her story with
BellaNaija.
It is a long read but definitely worth reading as Dr. Ada
details her experience. It’s a really gripping read which
shows the story of strength, faith and dedication. We are
grateful to Ada for sharing her story with us.
***
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.
SOURCE http://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/comment-page-1/