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Deep in thought, I took a long trip down memory lane, revisiting every momentous event in my life that crowned itself with the horns of detriment. Yet among them, one stands apart—a wishy-washy, catastrophic conundrum that didn’t just harm me, but shattered the person I used to be.

I was born into the family of Mr. and Mrs. Ariyo—a well-known physics teacher and educator. Vividly, I can say this plethora of events has scarred my mental and physical well-being. _Hmm!_ I love my dad. Did I say my dad? Oh no—my _parents_.

### **The First Crisis: A Near-Death Experience**

Light falls on me as I prepare for school, my parents urging me awake. _"Joseph! Wake up, it's time!"_ I couldn’t hear them, trapped in a deep sleep—was it REM sleep? _Ha! Jesuuuu!_ My mum screamed, _"Ema gbami ke!"_ Then, _"Omi! Omi! Omi!"_ ("Water!" in Yoruba). I was paralyzed but conscious. Immediately, a bike was boarded, and my dad carried me on his shoulder with courage, energy, and positive vibes, ready to conquer—not knowing this single event would spiral into another.

At the hospital, my card was requested while I was in emergency care. Nurses shot disdainful looks. In Yoruba, they muttered, _"E lo gba card di. Omo yin o ni card."_ ("Go get his card. Your child doesn’t have one.") The sting of their words reached me even in my paralyzed state. Was I in a deep REM sleep? The question still haunts me. My dad screamed with all his might, and suddenly, doctors and nurses rushed in. I was admitted and placed on medication. I remember nothing else.

When I woke up, I was told I had been asleep for three days. _Common, guys—it was a near-death experience!_ Soon, a week passed without food or brushing my teeth.

_Ha!_ My mum, Iya Ariyo, mopped me with soapy water and disinfectant. She tried her best. My dad borrowed money to cover hospital expenses—daily payments for the bed, food, and care. Eventually, I could walk again and brush my teeth. When asked what I wanted to eat, I shouted, _"Indomie!"_

My aunt—my beautiful, caring second mum (a widow)—brought milk, tea, bread, and beverages. My mum bought Indomie but couldn’t stay long; she had just given birth. _Ah, Indomie…_ A scarce luxury for me—even eating it three times a week was a treat.

Lizzy Baby, my favorite cousin, held an elevated place in our family. Our bond was unshakable. As a child, I saw her as a queen, and she still holds that special place in my heart. Her visit lifted my spirits.

### **Discharged… But Not for Long**

Finally, I was discharged! _Yay!_ Happy and free—I was eight years old. But my _ijogbon_ (mischievousness) returned. My mum often sang a song to prevent my fainting: _"Daku daji battery o!"_

As if the devil pursued me, I wandered toward the mango tree—and slipped. Trying to break my fall, I landed on an outstretched arm. The result? A **fracture**.

I stayed silent, hiding the pain. My elbow stiffened. By evening, tears streamed down. _"Ki lo se e, omo yi?"_ ("What’s wrong with this child?") I didn’t speak, stubbornly concealing the injury. When I finally showed my mum, she waited for my dad’s return.

### **The Horrors of Traditional Bone Setting**

We went to a traditional bone setter. They made tiny incisions on my skin with a blade—_excruciating_. Then, they applied boiling water with a mop around my elbow.

I screamed.  
I cried.  
I shouted.

The torture was unbearable. Then—_boom!_—my dad fainted watching. He soon woke, given milk and water.

But that wasn’t the end.

A month passed with no improvement. We visited another bone setter—a kind woman in her 60s. She made more incisions, rubbed a greasy concoction on my elbow, and placed my arm on a curved metal platform, manipulating it. Slowly, relief came and I gained mobility around the elbow joint.

Today, I live with a **valgus elbow deformity**. Studying anatomy later revealed the truth: it was a **fracture at the epiphyseal plate** (this is because the growth plate, not fully ossified in children). Orthopedics wasn’t available in Epe then —one reason I’m drawn to orthopedics. Now, we have only one medical doctor who specializes in orthopedics.

To my family and friends, this is painful journey that I must fulfill and, I strive to ensure others won’t suffer as I did—ignorance should never dictate treatment.

**One day, I will be an orthopedic surgeon.**

#writing #inkwellprompt #nonfiction

#creativenonfiction #inkwellprompt #BASTION

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**Thank you for visiting my blog!**

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I'm Ariyo Joseph Ayobamidele — nature observer, anatomy learner, science thinker. I write and draw to process the world. Heading into medicine and surgery. Self-sponsored through Hive and block chain technologies. My word for you is "Curiosity causes growth — and your support adds value." 🔬✍️

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