Chapter 1: Doctor Femi’s Table Wahala

You know how life fit just use you shine anyhow, abi? For my mind, I never believe say na Femi I go jam for that hospital, and as I see am, my heart just somersault enter my throat. Na wa.

Femi siddon for him table, lab coat white like Sunday agbada, face tight, eyes sharp. The way the lab coat fresh ehn, e resemble all those big big Lagos doctors. Just small stethoscope hang for him neck, but him face no dey give joy at all—like bank manager wey dey reject loan for month end. Even though AC dey blow, sweat still dey my palm.

"Morayo, blocked milk duct, come in."

E talk am as if na regular clinic run, but my whole body dey do me like say I enter hot pepper soup.

Him dark eyes hook my own, cold, just dey send shivers enter my bone.

For where I dey, the way him dey look me ehn—no be small. If look fit cut person, my own for don finish. I adjust my wrapper, try form composure. Na who send me this one?

"So after you leave me, even your breasts no gree work again?"

As e drop am, all the nurses for hallway begin do like say dem no hear gist, but I sabi Naija ear—dem go soon spread am everywhere.

Na wa. My hand dey shake, sweat dey my armpit, but I still form strong woman.

I lift my shirt and unhook my bra. The cold AC touch my skin, goosebumps just full everywhere. As I dey raise my shirt, shame wan finish me. See as I dey expose myself for person wey know all my body secrets before. If to say ground fit open, I for enter.

Inside the breast clinic, my first love—who I date for three years and dump five years ago—stand before me, already gloved, ready to examine my breast.

As he put on those rubber gloves, e remind me of all those years wey e dey hold my hand for house, dey gist me under mango tree for campus. The distance between us now big like Third Mainland Bridge.

I swallow hard, nerves jangling. Na so my mouth dry, I just dey swallow spit like say I chop dry garri. Body dey shake small small.

"Doctor, abeg, handle am like egg, no vex. Try gentle small."

I talk am low, voice dey quiver. I no want wahala or extra pain join this embarrassment.

He glance at me, eyes cold like iced zobo, no sign of old gist. "I no remember ever being rough with you before, abi?"

I wan reply, but my mouth just dey heavy, shame and old memory dey fight for my throat.

Na small laugh escape my mouth, like rat wey dey hide for corner. I just dey avoid him eye, dey focus on the ceiling.

No be play—na like say okada jam my chest, na so e dey pain. As e dey touch am, I dey bite my lip make I no shout.

Since I born my son, Tega, blocked ducts just dey disturb me every few days. When I dey breastfeed, the baby no dey get milk, and the pain dey mad. Both me and pikin dey suffer.

Every night, as Tega dey suck and e no get anything, the cry go just wake the whole compound. My back go dey pain, I go dey pray make the thing release. Chai, motherhood na serious wahala.

After two days of no sleep, I just lock house, tie scarf anyhow, dash reach hospital. Wetin concern me with makeup for pain?

"How long since you born?"

Him tone na as clinical as those doctors for AIT medical show. I dey try match am, but my head full.

"Fifteen days."

Na so I count am, even though e be like say I don dey this new mama work for one year.

"How long e don block?"

"Just small blockage these past two days, but e bad well last night," I answer honestly.

I no fit lie—after that night cry, even my ear still dey ring.

He examine me serious, but even through the gloves, I still dey feel the heat of his hands. My face dey red, my heart dey beat anyhow.

Na true—those hands still dey strong, still dey gentle, but wahala no let me rest. My heart dey drum like talking drum.

I cover my face—meeting your ex during breast exam, na real shame.

I just dey wish say NEPA go take light, make everybody scatter. I no even sabi where I go hide my face.

He siddon back for computer, type for a while, then hand me form. "You need to be admitted. Take this form go pay, then go ninth floor for Inpatient Building 1 for your admission."

He no even give room for talk. As he pass me the form, e do am like 'strictly business'. I collect am with shaky hand.

I hesitate, hold the form. "Erm, must I really stay for hospital?"

I dey look am, dey hope say e go soft small. But I know say if e say make I admit, I no get choice.

After small time, I turn look am. I peep the side of his face. The way e dey type, like say I dey disturb him important work. I just dey beg for small pity.

He hear me, look up from computer, shoot me one kind cold look. "What do you think?"

As e look me, I just swallow my words. The tension thick like semovita for Sunday afternoon.

Ah ah. See as him dey fierce.

I just nod, no talk again. Wetin I go do?

No wahala, I go admit myself. Wetin dey worry this guy?

As I dey waka comot, I just dey talk for my mind, 'Femi, abeg now, na your Morayo.' But pride no go let me talk am aloud.