I sauntered, almost tip-toeing, and gingerly so into the waiting room. It was my first encounter with a patient billed for the theatre, and would be another first, in the surgical theater itself. Indeed, I dreaded the prospect.

The nurse who asked me to change my clothes into that intimidating theatre apparel, which momentarily transformed into a medic of sorts, could tell my fright.

Next, I was ushered into a waiting room, where the air conditioning could not even hide my beads of sweat.

There she sat, wheel-chair bound, but had neither lost her poise nor gait.

Her eyes were starry, as if wondering what was about to happen to her.

I greeted.

She swung round, quickly regained her composure, and rather gave me a broad, re-assuring smile in response.

Forty-three year old Christiana Adwobi, (not her real name) is a member of a noble profession in Ghana.

The single mother of two, (a sixteen year old girl, and a thirteen year old boy) has been diagnosedof breast cancer, almost an end stage case, and is scheduled for a treatment that would involve draining fluid that had accumulated in her chest, preventing her from breathing properly and causing severe fatigue.

She had at her own instance requested for this interview to enable her relate events that characterized herdiagnosis, especially lack of patient care at one of the country’s teaching hospitals, which compelled her to resort to near fatal herbal medicine, and what she termed the “urgent need for all patients to promptly report all breast abnormalities to”better” care-giving hospitals for proper treatment.”

Having overcome my initial fright, I had somewhat rediscovered my probing self to quickly fire the first question.

BKB: (reporter) what happened, madam?

CA (Christiana Adwobi) fluent, English speaking Christiana heaves a sigh of relief, then fixed her gaze on me. “I discovered the lump through breast self- examination and reported same to a teaching hospital”.

“However I was appalled by the treatment meted out to me by the medical staff. First was the back-handed approach by some nurses, then their unwillingness and inability to patiently comfort and explain issues about my condition to me”.

“I was getting frail and worried. After several visits during which long queues combined with the poor Doctor/nurse-relationship took a life of its own, I became disillusioned, and abandoned that line of seeking treatment.

BKB: did you report this to the customer/client service department of the hospital?

CA: shifting in her seat, she stared at me bewildered. “Report to who?” she shot back? I dropped that line of questioning and allowed her to dictate the pace of the interview at that stage.

“I then met a friend who introduced me to a herbalist. I was given various concoctions. They somewhat made me energetic but the lump kept growing. I had family support unlikeother less fortunate patients who are neglected when in this state”.

My family became alarmed when my health deteriorated.  I lost weight, became pale, and weak, physically. I was then rushed here when I was running out of breath, and thankfully, I have found Peace and Comfort at this hospital.

The treatment has been excellent, she said beaming at me, as if in search of confirmation.

BKB: Yes it shows. It’s obvious you have found peace at this hospital. You appear a lot cheerful, gauging from your looks. Then I put what I considered my knock out question. Are you afraid of the impending treatment?

CA: laughter, then a firm “NO” why should I? she quizzed. It is rather life-saving. I have been here for only three days, and my condition has improved tremendously, compared to the one and half years that I had been on my own using herbal preparations, which nearly claimed my life.

I want to advise medical staff at all hospitals to improve upon their compassion for patient care. What I experienced was bad, and I guess I am not alone. Breast cancer is a condition that requires utmost confidentiality and care by medical staff; else the patient will turn away and resort to unapproved methods like I did. I suspect this has led to several fatalities.

Again the government should join interventionistmeasures, includingprograms designed to heighten awareness about breast cancer.

I am convinced such collaborative programs, if national in character, would drastically reduce the stigma attached to the condition while reducing mortality in the process.

Breast cancer is real and claiming lives. Almost sobbing with her face buried in both palms, she pleaded, “Please tell all women with the condition to promptly report to hospitals and not stay at home or rely on herbal medicine or go to prayer camps. We will all have Comfort, Peace and Love at home if our mothers, sisters and aunties are free from this scourge.

In an instant, the surgeon walked in, I could feel the grace and professionalism exuded.

This surgeon, with much care and dexterity, drained about two liters of fluid from the patient’s chest. There was dramatic instant relief, as the patient became more eloquent, and challenged well-endowed citizens and corporate bodies to give back to society, by rallying around individuals and NGOs keen on bringing peace and joy to homes, through increased awareness creation programs on the negative effects of breast cancer.