Dr.
Ada Igonoh of First Consultants Hospital is one of the doctors who attended to
Patrick Sawyer, the Liberian man who brought Ebola Virus Disease in Nigeria on the 20th of July, 2014.
Dr. Ada
Igonoh shared her testimony with BellaNaija and it is a must
read
Read her Story below!!!
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.
‘It’s
really sad because he was not born normally and has scaly skin all over
his body, similar to being severely burnt, from the sole of his feet up
to his head. If the boy doesn't moisturise or soak his skin in water,
his body would shrivel and harden up like a sculpture and he won't be
able to move. If he leaves it unattended for too long, he won’t be able
to speak because the wrinkles inside his mouth would go hard and it
would dry out all his blood in his body.' 
