It was a rainy Saturday morning. I was seated at his bedside and could tell that he was unsettled from the way he kept tossing and turning. There was a table on the other side of the bed. On it, a glass, a jug of water, a tub of natural yoghurt and his phone. I stared at his phone for a minute and remembered the day I took him to the Safaricom shop to buy it. I remembered how he was specific on the brand he wanted and how my efforts to convince him to check out other brands hit the wall.

On the bunk above his bed, there were a bunch of red roses and 2 ‘ get well soon’ cards.’ There was also a board marked ’17’ and beneath it, a rectangular metal plate with the doctor’s name on it. On the right side of his bed, was a drip injecting medicine into his veins. I then reached out for my iPod and plugged in earphones. Music is good for the soul. I played ‘Hero’ by ‘NAS’ and ‘Keri Hilson’ as I continued observing the room.
He was covered in white linen. I noticed the hospital logo on the left side of his gown.

I keenly observed his beard which was peppered with white hair. His big eyes were not fully closed. For a minute there, he reminded me of my small sister, she also closes her eyes like that when asleep. It was hard to believe that all this began as a stomachache. I doubt if at all I was listening to the music by now. My thoughts were interrupted by a greeting from a lady who tapped my shoulder,


“Kindly can you help the patient fill his menu card for tommorow?”

“Sure.” I replied trying to find her name tag. She noticed my struggle and said,

“I forgot my name tag in the kitchen. My name is Florence.”

“Pleasure, am Agnes.”

“How are you related to the patient?”
Before I could reply I heard a faint voice,

“Agie!” It was the patient calling

“Yes Dad. Am here. I was waiting for you to wake up and eat.”

“No appetite.” Dad replied.

“But you have to try dear. I have brought you some uji.”

“Sawa ngoja kidogo.”


Florence, then took out her pen and together we filled the menu card with her guidance. After that, she asked me to follow her to the kitchen to take some milk for my dad. On our way, she told me to have faith that my old man would get well soon.

On this same day, we found out that our insurance had an ass and it had decided that it was time to show us how ugly and scary it was. This was not just a short accidental flash, it was a good long twerk. They sent a two sentenced letter saying that they won’t foot the bill days after admitting the patient on the same cover. Here is the thing though, they can twerk their big ugly and scary ass for as long as they want. They can even go faster than Akothee’s booty on her music videos but we will conquer this. One day people will get tired of their ass, trust me. In fact the next time an insurance sales agent approaches me with a smile to sell me a policy, he/she better make sure that the cover actually comes through when needed and also if the cover can’t insure me from heartbreak (which happens to everyone anyway), then (read in Naija accent) forget it! Don’t bother!!!

The last couple of days have been stressful. Sleep has been as available as an honest politician in Kenya and food is beginning to taste like boiled peaches marinated with baby powder and garnished with roasted guavas. But there is this lot of angels sent to us in form of family, friends and work collegues who have done everything to made this difficult time bearable for us. People who’ve shown us their support in many ways such as visits, hugs, words of encouragement, prayer, financial support and even the medics in the fam who have broken down the medical jargons so that we can understand what is going on. Dear cousins I really appreciate the comic banter we share in the waiting area. Speaking of which, Yonie the joke you made about chics with big foreheads was not funny. I say this as the chairperson of ‘Divas Blessed With Foreheads Association’ DBFA. I may laugh myself silly every time I remember the joke, but it was not funny. Julius hebu tell this guy that his joke was not funny.

Thank you guys for the support, may God continue to bless you.

Old man, get well soon. You will pull through this. You are in our prayers and thoughts.


10 thoughts on “BED NO.17”

  1. Old Man is in God’s hands. We serve a Wonderful God.
    My faith has never dwindled from day one when he was admitted. We will conquer ALL. God is with us.
    Get well my brother in law. We are missing your jokes!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. May he get well soon. What is it with insurance companies though? They promise heaven and the galaxy and they can’t even deliver a spark. They sell the policy in such a sweet promising way only to wank off your misery when you need them to come through.

    Liked by 1 person

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