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Friday, June 24, 2016

   The Spiritualist and I (4) end game



Then, some weeks later, my doctor who had earlier examined me and conducted some tests, when I complained of being unwell, called me to his office where he gave me really shocking news.

 He said I had contracted a venereal disease (syphilis) and I had to be placed on treatment immediately for the sake of my baby and my wellbeing.

 I nearly passed out at his diagnosis.

 I kept wondering where I could have got it from. Ben? It could not be.

 He was a faithful husband who would never cheat on me.

 Then my mind went to the spiritualist. Could I have contracted it from him? 

  The doctor was not done.
 "We'll have to contact your husband so he can be treated too."

 I got really scared then. That night, I kept tossing and sighing, wondering how I was going to get out of the mess I found myself.

 When Ben returned from work two days later, his face looking like thunder, I knew I was in serious trouble.

 He threw a lab test result on the dining table, sat me down and pointing at the test, demanded in a barely controlled voice:

 "This can't be from me so I want the truth. If you want to remain my wife, I want the truth and nothing else."

 The look on his face frightened me. I had never seen my husband look so angry. It was as if he would kill me then and there.

 I knew the game was up and I, broke down in tears.

 Between sobs, the whole story came out- my meeting with the spiritualist, the anointing service, the nights spent with him when I said I was with my friend or at my parents house in Festac.

 Anyway, Ben threw me out of the house. When I finished my story, he called my parents and told them he was coming over with me.

I thought he would beat me, but he didn't. He only said in a voice filled with disgust, that he had been living with a prostitute all this while without realizing it.

 I begged him earnestly, blaming everything on my desperation for a baby but he was beyond reasoning.

 "Your sins have found you out," he screamed at me. "I never want to see you again in my life! And take that bastard you're carrying to the rightful owner because it's definitely not mine! Ashawo! Prostitute!" he threw at me as he dumped me and my bags in front of my parents' home.

 All this happened a few months ago. I've not seen Ben since then. My parents have gone to plead with him, all to no avail.

 I learnt his mother has sworn I will never return to her son's house and that she had found another wife for him.

 As for me, it's like my life's over. I feel so ashamed of myself, at my actions. I barely go out of the house. I stay indoors weeping, at the loss of my husband, the breakdown of my marriage and our wonderful relationship which I destroyed due to my desperation for a baby.

 I also weep for my unborn child, at the uncertain fate he will face in life with no father. Or a mother for that matter.

 For each day, as my delivery date draws closer, I pray I never come out of the labour room alive.

 There's nothing to live for anymore. Except a life of regrets and endless sorrow and anguish!
A wonderful weekend to you all and thanks a million for stopping by today!


The End!

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