A True Life Story from Prisca Ekoh (former TYWA contestant).

Gratitude, Strength and Beauty: My Journey to Recovery.

Human strength and beauty lies within, and are all enforced by gratitude and the people around. It’s a beautiful lesson I learnt from eight chemotherapy sessions and two surgeries over the course of one year. The school year had just ended and I was finally home with my parents after three months of intense academic activity in boarding school. As I lay on the sofa, loss in thought anticipating the beautiful holiday, my mum slowly reached out to me calling my attention to a small mass she observed protruding on my right abdominal region. Although, I had observed the mass before I never seemed to be bothered, “I feel no pain there”, I told my mum. Unknown to me my mum pondered about it all through the night and called in for a doctor’s appointment. 

At the hospital we ordered for a scan, and on interpreting the scan results the doctors recommended surgery to take out the mass on the thought it was just a benign tumor. Surgery was quick and the road to recovery was also swift but quite painful. Soon enough I was back on my feet, happy to  have recovered in time to join my peers for the next academic term, unknown to me that the rainy days and my hospital visits were far from over.

Exactly three months after the surgery I was diagnosed with malaria, and had to start treatment. Despite the antimalarial drugs and inculcation I was getting, I felt weaker by the day as the treatment proved abortive. Further investigation had to be done by a team of professional specialists to ascertain the root cause, as my pack cell volume had dropped way below the threshold for a normal human being. After a week I was due for another surgery and this time it was confirmed that I had immature teratoma, a form of ovarian cancer. This was very shocking for me and my family as we never envisaged cancer also considering the fact that I had just clocked fifteen.

Following the devastating news my health quickly deteriorated, my stomach began to swell and it was near impossible to use the restroom. As these symptoms grew worse I was referred from the more general secondary health facility where I had been for a week to the more specialized university teaching hospital. My first day at the teaching hospital was rough as I was very weak and could hardly make sense of what the doctor said. After consultation we were given a number of “investigations” and asked to come back in two weeks’ time. These two weeks were short-lived as I had to be rushed in as an emergency patient. 

At this stage I was lethargic and had to be constrained to adult diapers. I was put on a dose of fluids and vitamins in preparation for the chemotherapy sessions. During this wait period while the doctors kept on the investigation I felt dead, because I could hardly move and the pain was so unbearable. After all investigations were concluded I was told when the chemotherapy sessions would start and other briefings on how the process would go and the cost of the treatment. The drugs where quite expensive and I was told I would be getting a minimum of three doses and a maximum of six.

On this fateful day, six months after my first surgery I saw doctors fill the hospital room and I murmured to myself the dreaded day has finally come, it is time. The dripline was set and I started the treatment, my mum sat by me to give me hope and courage. The first dose was completed after three days and truly I was improving greatly. My appetite increased, my face was brighter and I could move from the bed to the chair with aid. After eleven more days I was discharged and was to come back after two weeks for another round of treatment.

It was quite relieving that I was on the path to winning the battle for my health, but this time a new battle of self-confidence and self-acceptance was brewing. One faithful afternoon I decided to loosen my corn rows when I observed the gravity of hair loss on my scalp. “Oh my God! I am gradually turning bald”, I told myself. I felt so ugly, up until this time a full long hair was part of the yardstick for measuring beauty for me. Although, my family encouraged me that beauty was more than the externals like having a full long but more of the soul, I still found it difficult to accept my new looks as I had to cover my hair when leaving the house.

As the battle with cancer raged for the next couple of months having taken four chemotherapy sessions and four more courses to go, I soon started to find peace, happiness and build my self-confidence. The bible, family encouragement and my tightly knit friends were sources of succor for me. This new found confidence had to be tested and no other place than far away from home. School had just resumed and I was excited to catch up with old friends after my long hiatus. The supposed welcome was a barrage of curious teenage questions and soon the reality of looking different began to haunt me as some of my friends stopped talking to me. Ugly comments on how I looked flowed in; “Someone once blurted you like someone with AIDS”. I got home every day not uttering a word to anybody but severely crying. The thought of going to school in the morning scares me so much that I wished for the term to quickly runout.

The holidays came and I thought all the negative comments had disappeared. One faithful evening on a stroll I heard a group of kids who I hardly knew chanting behind me, in pidgin, these very words, “bololo head bololo head”, which loosely translates to bald head. I felt so low that I ran home in tears and all the memories of what happened in school came back and I started weeping profusely. I got a lot of calls from family that night and soon realized that opinions on how I look or other aspects of my life will always be there even from people who knew little about me or what I had been through. There and then I decided that I should put a filter on whose opinion I choose to form my reality. I soon took this scripture that says, “guide your heart with all diligence for out of it cometh the issues of life”. 

I received my final chemotherapy in April more than a year after my first surgery although declared cancer free, I had to take a precautionary dose the eight time. I am currently in remission and I can say these trying times was a period of growth. Each day I feel a sense of gratitude for all that I am, I feel beautiful in my own skin. I feel more confident than ever, I have peace of mind. I am in good health and of course my hair has grown. People have been a great source of encouragement on my journey, I have learned to keep a small tribe of friends who had been there for me on my path to recovery and I now attend school regularly. I look at bad days as a path to growth and live each day with gratitude. Looking back, I can indeed say there is light at the end of the tunnel.

This has come with so much love from,

Prisca Ekoh

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