Lives have been lost, and families have had to undergo the trauma of isolation. The fear of the unknown even very crippling. We read about the numbers in the news, but when we put a face to the news reports, it brings it home.
Dr. Ada Igonoh of First Consultants Hospital is one of the doctors who attended to Patrick Sawyer. She was infected by the virus and miraculously, she survives to share her story.
It is a long read but definitely worth reading as Dr. Ada details her experience. It’s a really gripping read which shows the story of strength, faith and dedication.
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.
credit: Bellanaija
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