THAT NIGHT IN THE HOSPITAL

That night in the hospital began with being brought into a room and having an intravenous medicine drip put into my arm. This last time I had something like that in me, I had just gotten my tonsils taken out. With my condition feeling worse, I did not really feel it though.

Anita and Vera were there with me in the room and I asked Vera to read from my Bible which I had carried with me. I just wanted to hear the word. I would name scriptures and she would read them. After a bit of time, they came near to the bed to pray for me. During that time, I could feel something spiritual along with the physical symptoms. I asked Anita to find someone that does intercessory prayer to come to the hospital.

After a short while, a few students from the Cape Coast University came and they prayed with me.

That was a powerful experience. The main person who was praying was a young lady named Afua. I could feel the Holy Spirit with her, and she was the only one whose touch did not make me feel more sick. As she prayed she continually referred to God’s word. During the prayer, I began to sing a song that was in tongues at first, and then was in English. It was a song of repentance, just telling God ‘I am sorry’: sorry for taking He who is always faithful for granted, for living less than what He has shown me as best, and for using my time for things that do not testify of His love.

I realized that using all of your life to search and understand God would not be enough time to finish the task, so how could there be time for anything else. Every moment is precious, and to be used properly.

After a while, I just began to speak my testimony, about all the things that God had brought me through. The time that someone that I didn’t even know tried to stab me on a subway platform, the people that I had been hanging around that ended up on drugs, in jail, killing and killed. How friends from my teenage years who were now being held on some serious cocaine possession charges were surprised that I was not dead or in jail. How, when I was fourteen, I was prepared to give me heart over to coldness and not caring to live the life that I admired, but the hand of Christ was over my heart and did not let me turn my heart over. I also spoke of times where my life had been turned around and my family and friends (the few that I had left) were in awe over the changes. I went from failing classes to honours, from a weed head to a university student and budding music journalist. I spoke of the realizations that have come with the passing of some young, beautiful, gifted people (Dudley, Letisha, Blu). Especially with Dudley, that woke me up to the fact that: 1. God is real, and 2. Tomorrow is not promised. Yet, I was still not committed to really live for God. I shared with them when that changed, one church service at Rhema between Christmas and New Years eve; I literally could feel in the spirit my feet being planted in His hands. There really is not time for anything else than the work that God has for you.

Eventually, the group of about seven people had to go as they were way past visiting hours. So, I was there and the doctors were gone home, the nurse on duty was sleeping, there were no patients in my room (or anywhere near where I was), and my friends and family were across the ocean (though I had some people who were there for me in Ghana, they too could not be in the hospital room). I was not alone though. I felt God’s peace. I did not know what was going on with my body. I felt a lot of pain, but the peace was stronger. I continued to pray and to sing hymns and songs of praise, until I drifted to sleep. I could feel God speaking into my heart that I have Him, and could never be alone.

While I did get some rest that night, I woke up numerous times.

One of the times that I woke up I really had to use the washroom. The problem was no one was answering my call of “hello”. It’s not like I needed someone to show me to the washroom, I was hooked up to an intravenous attached to a pole. So, I got upand tried to wheel it, but the wheels did not work. I then had to this thing where I was lifting it and dragging it. When I got to the washroom near my room, there was so much equipment being stored in there that I could fit the stand of the pole through the door. I was not about to unhook myself, so I headed down to the other end of the hallway.

After successfully using the washroom, I began to head back to my room. As I passed the front entrance, a man with a deep stab wound in his shoulder and blood all over his arm, chest and abdomen approached me saying, “doctor, doctor, please help me”. I showed him the pole and explained that I wasn’t a doctor. His mother and his brother followed him in approaching me and said the same thing: “doctor, doctor, please help him”. When I explained that I was not a doctor, they asked where the doctor was. I told them that there was none there. I explained that a nurse was somewhere sleeping, and by God’s grace, I guessed the right door for them to go through to look for her. She came through the door, wiped the sleep out of her eyes, and got this man who was dripping blood all over the floor to sit down.

After finding out that he had been in a fight, and ensuring that he was being taken care of, I dragged the pole back to my bed and tried to get some rest. I wasn’t alone anymore either, as I had some mosquitoes and two lizards on the wall to keep me company.