Chapter 35

Two days later.

On the private ward the atmosphere was completely different. The air had a perfumed scent and the seats were plush. Every surface was dustless. The nurses were unhurried and they moved with a serene purposefulness from room to room on their rounds. There were vases of flowers and beautiful framed pieces of art on the walls. In the corridor was a water dispenser and in most rooms could be heard the noise of a television. 

She awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding herself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, her eyes were still shut as she soaked in the warmth of her covers before letting her brown eyes see the sun's rays through the window. Her eyes landed on her mother and she smiled weakly. She grimaced as she felt a throbbing pain in her back bones and wrists. 

"How are you feeling, my darling?" Mommy spoke gently, stroking her hair. Habiba looked at her mother's stressed face for brief seconds. "How long was I asleep?" She asked instead. Her voice was barely heard. "You've been unconscious for two days."

"Your father went to see the doctor," mommy explained tapping on a button to get the doctor's attention.

She lay there quietly, keeping her eyes closed, matching her breaths to the beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed, the only indications of her heartbeat, her existence. Her legs were numb. Curiosity slowly pried open her swollen eyes to meet a dismal view of a magnolia colored hospital room. Slow tears rolled down her cheeks as the throbbing pain continued. She slid her eyes sideways and looked at her mother then to her chart. 

Habiba Sufyan

Status: Unstable

Admittance: 10:17pm

Cause of Admittance: collapsed 

Diagnosis: Sickle cell anemia

Duration: Unknown

The door got opened and her father appeared together with the doctor. He did his work and gave her injection to ease the pain. The pain was increasing in waves like she didn’t just get injection for pain reliever, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robs her ability to speak, sends her crashing to the bare boards. It's as though her bones have become poison, intent of destroying her from the inside out. All she can do was writhe, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the walls. Her mother cried with her, holding her hand for support as she watched her daughter suffer in pain. "Habiba? How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" Her father asked worriedly, stroking her head. More tears blurred her vision as she shook her head. 

"Mommy..... call him.... Mahmud," she spoke weakly. Her mother rapidly picked up her phone and called him. The moment he heard she was awake, he dressed up and left the house to the hospital. His mind won't be at ease till he sees how she is. "Mommy..... I'm..... I can't..... it's too much," she cried out. Her mind screamed out as the pain drove through her bones. Every thought she just had became confused as the burning pain licked up her bones like scorching fire. The only thoughts she had was 'like knife through butter.' She weeped at her own suffering. She could hear her parents talking and weeping. Heartbreak swiped through at this chaos and pain, pain for her parents. She wanted to pretend like she was not in pain but it was unbearable. Her body was burning. Her bones were crippling her. She  couldn't hold it. She whimpered loathing and pain, wishing the world to end rather than this place of endless current weak but the pain always crashed over her, permanently.

After a while Mahmud showed up in the room, that time she had gotten more injections and the pain was slowly dimming. She looked pale and tired. Her face was still swollen. She could barely see a thing. She opened her eyes the moment he called out her name. She smiled softly at him, "you came," she whispered due to how weak she was.  Her parents left the room to give them some privacy. 

"I will always be here for you no matter what," he reassured. "How are you feeling?" He asked worriedly. She opened her tired eyes again and looked at his blurry face. "I think...... I'm not going to make it," she stared at the blank space. His heart did a back flip as he stared at her face, speechless. 

She gazed at him and smiled. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday," she started. "I...." she bite her lips and grimaced in pain. "Habiba, shh, it's okay please. Just get some rest, okay?"

"I want to tell you why I don't want to follow you to Nigeria," she talked weakly. "Now is not the time for that Habiba, your health is what we care about now," he replied her. "I...." A wave of pain suddenly washed over her. Her pain was an ocean of unknowable depths, swift currents and lurking beasts.

"May Allah grant you quick recovery, my love. How's the pain?" He asked uneasy. He wished he could remove all the pain and put it in his body. Her pain came like a sudden squall out at sea. Bullets of rain from ragged black clouds came pounding down with absolute brutali. 

"The pain is like a knife being twisted in my bones. It shots up fast, erasing every thought from my head and paralyzing my body. Apparently I scream whenever I feel the pain, but I don't recall that part, only the pain. But whatever the case, I am used to all of it. But, this pain is different. I.... I don't even know if I will actually survive it..... it’s too much for me to bear.” 

"Stop saying that please, Habiba. When a Muslim is sick, Allah takes away his sins just as fire takes away impurities in gold and silver." 

She smiled, her eyes closed. She is the only one that knows what kind of pain she's going through. Maybe someone with her kind of disease will understand how much the pain is. 

••

The next week....

"All my life, pain is all I know.... I have gone through a lot with my mother. Those people have tortured us, my mom especially. We moved to Nigeria nine years back because my father's relatives kept bugging him about us that we don't visit them and some of them don't even know my mom or me. Daddy still worked here so we don't get to see him till after a month or two. He has an extended family so we had to live with his parents, his siblings and some of his cousins.

The only person I know that is not being cruel to us was my grandparents. They hit me, abuse me, harass me! Hell, I once almost got raped by one of his brothers. My father knew but he couldn't say anything about it. My mother got fed up and asked him to take us back to London or she's going back to her parents house. His parents knew we were not comfortable staying there, they suggested we moved to one of his houses but my mother refused and that's why we came back here. I've been traumatized my whole life. I had to go through therapy before I could start trusting people again, especially men. I'm so so terrified of that people. This is why I never want to go back there." Her eyes drip with tears. The pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent sob. 

He stared at her speechless. Habiba has gone through a lot her whole life. She has been dealing with family issues before and her health. No matter how bad a situation is, she always smiled. She never let her worries get the best of her. She always masked them with a huge grin. 

"I'm deeply sorry about that, Habiba. I fully understand why you don't want to go there and I promise you I won't push you to do something you're not comfortable with, okay? Your health is what we care about the most." He spoke softly. He took a tissue paper and wiped her tears away. She smiled again and nodded. "Thank you," she murmured. 

The fear travelled in Habiba's veins but never made it to her facial muscles or skin. Her complexion remained pale and matt, her eyes as steady as if she were shopping for shoes. She let out an understated sigh and closed her eyes. "I'm really tired of this hospital," she spoke tiredly. He chuckled softly, "don't worry, you will be discharged in no time," he assured. She looked at him and raised a brow, "it's like you've never seen a sickle cell patient at the hospital before."

He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. The doctor opened the door and entered. He smiled softly at her, "good afternoon, Captain, how are you feeling today?" He asked picking up her chart for updates. "Still having pains, especially at nights," she explained. "But are the pain getting any lesser than before?" 

"Well, sometimes. Depends on the area the pain starts. My lower back and wrists hurt the most," she spoke. Mahmud sat there looking at her. She had lost a lot of weight and she looked very sick. She was in pain but never want to speak about it but he could tell. He was afraid, afraid of losing her. Afraid that her words will actually come true, her words about death. Unease blossomed from within him. Dread creeps down his spine like a careful spider leaving a trail of silk. The dread creeps over him like an icy chill, numbing his brain. In this frozen state his mind offers him only one thought. He sometimes wished her disease could be cured but Treatment can help, but the condition can't be cured. 

Her mother came in as the doctor left. Mahmud stood up smiling sheepishly. He has been with Habiba since morning. He couldn't leave her side, not when she's in that situation. He looked at her and spoke gently, "you should get some sleep, I will visit you later in the evening." But she was already asleep due to the injection she received. He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. He said goodbye to her mother before leaving. 

••

"During the hard times, we tend to forget the blessings we have around us and instead, we focus more on the things that are going wrong for us. It is human nature. We tend to get lost in circumstantial sources of grief and pain and forget to notice our source of blessings. Whenever you feel yourself being sucked into a dark phase of hopelessness and depression- remind yourself that you have a lot to be grateful for at the same time- whether it is a loving family, supportive friends, food in your belly every night before you sleep, a roof over your head and countless other things. Remind yourself that you are better off than so many other people who do not share our fortune in these domains. Keep a "count your blessings" journal if you want, where you can jot down a couple of things you are grateful for on a daily basis. It really does help in looking at the bright side of things! Habiba I never want to hear such words come out from your mouth! You are a muslim, you believe in Qadr. You believe in whatever comes your way is from Allah and you will pass that test.” Her mother adviced. Habiba was in great pain that moment. Her condition was getting worse day by day and she was starting to give up.

"Ya Allah, I hope for Your mercy. Do not leave me to myself even for the blinking of an eye. Ya Allah heal me, ease this pain. Correct all of my affairs for me. There is none worthy of worship but You." She was losing her mind..... again. She cried like she was not going to make it to the next day. She cried like her spirit needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release an elemental rage on the world. The soothing words of her mother made no difference at all. Habiba was beyond all reason, beyond all natural methods of calming. Her mother cried, stroking her head but it made no different.

He knocked softly on the door before entering with Salam. His heart beat fast against his rib cage as he approached to her bed. His hands tremble and his eyes water as he reached her side. "Good evening mommy.  H-how is she doing?" He asked even though he could tell she was in pain. Why does she have to be in pain? Why does she have to suffer? Why does any sickle cell patient have to go through this? If her parents actually didn't get married they would've saved her from the pain and the hard time she's going through. No one should suffer like this in their life. 

"She will be fine...." her mother replied, holding her hand as she cried in pain. "I'll go see the doctor now, please look after her," her mother informed him before leaving the room. He sat beside her and sighed. "Babe, how are you feeling?" He whispered. "I.... my bones.... they're burning," she wailed closing her eyes tightly. And then she stopped crying..... taking deep breaths..... she slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. "I know you must be scared.... scared of marrying me.... right?" 

"The only thing I'm scared of is losing you," he replied back. "Mahmud...... I don't think getting married to me will be an achievement. I'm a liability....."

"Habiba," he said sternly. "Stop saying things like this. In sha Allah you will be back on your feet and we will get married. We will have our babies, grow old together, die together, okay?" He reassured. 

"I will be having a bone-marrow transplant next week, so I want you to listen to me, okay?" She murmured looking at him. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Though these pains come and go, I give to you only smiles because I want you to be at ease and not worry. Thank me by having fun, remember me by laughing often, because that is what brings me comfort in these trials of age. When you remember me, send me your love and prayers, and I will return to you mine, though in truth it is always yours, always there for you. These pains may be an unwelcome guest, yet they can never master the beautiful soul, not mine, my love, nor yours. I know I won’t make it. Please, please pray for me when I die." 

Words left him. He stared into her bright brown eyes burning with fear and pain, and his heart fell silent and sad. He was already scared but her words were discouraging him more. Is that a will? "Habiba.... Allah is in control of everything not you, not me or anyone. Stop saying that please. I know you're going through a really hard time but don't forget Allah will never burden you with something that is beyond your capacity to deal with. Even on days when you feel as if you cannot take it anymore, know that you can survive it- for Allah knows us better than we know ourselves and whatever trial you're facing in your life, know that He also gives you the strength to handle that trial." 

The door got opened and her mother with the doctor and two nurses appeared. "Excuse us please. It's time for her medication." The doctor spoke politely. Mahmud smiled a bit and nodded. 

He went out to the waiting room and sat down helpless. He exhaled sharply closing his face with his palms. He brought out his phone and dialed on his father's number. "Salamu Alaikum, baba. Good evening," he spoke gently. "Wa'alaikumus Salam, good evening Mahmud. How are you?" Baba replied. "Alhamdulillah baba....." then he paused. 

"Your uncles will be traveling to kano next tomorrow," baba informed him, smiling. "Uh, yes baba..... about that, I want us to get married immediately. Because Habiba is terrible sick and I want to be with her the whole time. Baba please help me speak with her father about it," he pleaded. "SubahanAllah! Why are you just telling me this? Since when has she been sick? What's wrong with her?" 

He rubbed his eyes to avoid the tears from falling. "Uhmm..... last week. She is a sickle cell patient and she's really suffering." 

"May Allah grant her shifa. We will pray for her in sha Allah. I'll call her father right now and speak with him. Don't worry just pray for her. Allah ya bata lafiya."

He thanked baba and ended the call. The sadness flowed through his veins and deadened his mind. It was a poison to his spirit, dulling him killing off his other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was as if a black mist had settled upon him and refused to shift, and no matter how bright the day was, he would feel no sun and hear no bird song. For the world was lost to him and he knew of nothing that would bring it back into focus until Habiba was okay.