Johannesburg: There Are Still Good People...

I went in and saw Kechi on a gurney, her face all swollen and raw, attached to tubes and what appeared to be an inflatable blanket. She was deeply sedated.

I walked up beside her and told her that I loved her very much, and she was going to be fine. I prayed over her and asked God to keep her safe during the surgery. I signed consent forms both for the surgery and for blood transfusions.

When I came out, Annarie and Linda were waiting for me. Linda told me that she and her husband had been in the hospital for six weeks and would be returning to Nigeria in two weeks. I naively hoped it would be the same for us!

Linda gave me some very useful details about the hospital routines then proceeded to loan me R1000, while making arrangements for the guy who assisted her in changing her currency to Rand, the South African currency, to come to the hospital and change the little money I had brought with me. She also made arrangements for Franz, the taxi guy she used, to come later and take me to buy a SIM card and airtime, and also to take me to the hotel so I could check in.

Annarie took me to the Intensive Care Unit where Kechi would be taken after surgery, and introduced me to Glory, the Nursing Sister on duty. This was my first introduction to the very wonderful men and women who nursed Kechi back to life. I filled out some more forms and then went to the waiting room to wait for Kechi to come out from surgery. 

After a couple of hours, as I waited in prayer, a word came to me from the Lord, “Be still, my daughter, for I am with you. I will never let anything happen to you. Righteousness is My grace, which I have given to you. Be still, my daughter.

To be continued...

Johannesburg: New Levels Of Trust In God...

Then a very nice lady came to me and introduced herself to me. Her name was Annarie, and she was one of the hospital counselors. She had actually come out, asking if I was the wife of the man that came in from Nigeria. I did not blame her at all because by the time we arrived at the hospital, Kechi had swollen to more than twice her size, and her skin, naturally very fair complexioned, had darkened to almost black. Also, she had very short hair, because her school did not allow girls to grow their hair.

After apologizing for her mistake, Annarie took me to a more private room and talked to me, assuring me that Kechi was in the best hospital for the kind of injuries that she sustained. She then asked me where I was staying. I had not even thought of that! I told her I did not know but I supposed that Int'l S.O.S. should be handling that. She gave them a call and after a while they called back and told her that they had booked me into the Garden Suite Hotel, which was a stone throw from the hospital.

Annarie also introduced me to another Nigerian lady named Linda whose husband had sustained serious burns on an oil rig in Port Harcourt and was also being treated at Milpark.

Then a big, tall man came in and introduced himself as Dr. Plani, the trauma surgeon. He had a brusque attitude and a gruff voice. Not exactly friendly, but I got an immediate sense of someone who was very good at his job, and I relaxed a bit. He told me that they were about to do a tracheotomy on Kechi. I did not know what this was and I must have looked puzzled because he explained that they were going to make a cut in her throat and insert a tube into her trachea and connect it to a lung machine because her airways were swollen shut and she could no longer breathe on her own. Also they were going to begin to scrape off the burnt skin to minimize infection.

He left and came back shortly to tell me to go and see Kechi before they wheeled her into the Operating Room.

To be continued...

Johannesburg: What Next Lord?

“And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightening fall from heaven. Behold I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”

Luke 10: 18&19 (KJV)

We arrived Johannesburg around 6.00 am and I was assisted through Customs by a representative of International S.O.S., the organization in charge of the whole hospital process for Kechi, and we were issued visas there and then.

Kechi was taken straight to an ambulance that was waiting on the tarmac and we took off for the hospital.

There was a lot of traffic and I remember wondering why and then recalling that it was Monday morning and life was going on as usual for everyone else.

We were crawling at snail's speed. By this time, Kechi's face had swollen alarmingly. I began to perceive an odor from the ambulance, as if something was burning, like the brakes or some other mechanical part. I also noticed that the ambulance was not moving smoothly and the driver was getting agitated.

Thirty to forty five minutes into the trip, the driver pulled over on the side of the road, came out of the ambulance, opened the bonnet and then came back to inform us that the gear box had burnt.

I recognized the hand of our old adversary, the devil. I laughed inwardly and told him I knew what he was trying to do and that he would surely fail. Then I began to pray, or should I say, resumed my prayers, because I had never really stopped praying since the plane crash.

Another ambulance was called and we spent another twenty minutes waiting by the side of the road, in the heat, with a child that was in critical condition, until the replacement ambulance came. Kechi was transferred, and we continued our journey.

By this time, I noticed that the doctor that had travelled with us from Nigeria was very, very concerned and was now on the phone with the hospital, giving them minute by minute reports on Kechi's condition.

This time we drove very fast with lights flashing until we arrived at Milpark Hospital.

The emergency crew raced out as soon as we got there and Kechi was whisked in while I was told where to sit and wait. I was in a daze by then, not knowing what to feel and feeling everything

To be continued...

Moments: Journey To South Africa, Part 2...

During taxing and takeoff, Kechi's heart rate went up alarmingly. George, the paramedic said she was anxious, probably at some sub-conscious level remembering the crash. Every time she looked as if she was waking up, she was sedated.

I slept for the first two or three hours, waking up as we were about to land in Angola to refuel. When we took off for Johannesburg, reaction set in for me. I had been strong because of Mike. I had to let him take strength from me because it was killing him to see his precious princess suffer.

Suddenly, it all washed over me and for the first time since the horrific experience, I started to sob. I cried for a long time, for my daughter, for all those parents I had left behind to bury their kids, for the children that died, I cried in gratitude that I was the recipient of this grace, I cried until the tears stopped coming. I vaguely remembered George handing me some tissues and trying to comfort me. After my crying jag, he gave me some food but I could hardly swallow anything. I was emotionally and physically spent.

I was awake for the rest of the flight, reading my bible, praying, and keeping an eye on Kechi, wondering what was in store for her, for me, for all of us.

I wondered about the other survivors. How many other kids had made it? Had the ones that had gone to Jesus been in any pain before they died? How could any of this be possible? Was I in some kind of cruel dream that would not let me wake up? Could that plane have really crashed? Was any of this real? Was I really in a plane racing across Africa in order to save my daughter's life?

To be continued...