The months leading up to Oyinkan’s wedding would be the most defining of her life.
She would wake up from a coma to realize that she would never use or feel her lower extremities. She would see the despair in her fiancé’s face, the one who told her to stay and cuddle with him instead of going to see Kim Burrell at Xperience. She would watch him dote over her, paying attention to every detail and treating every domestic need as if he was defusing a bomb. She would from her slumber hear her mother wake him up and persuade him to go home to at least freshen up and eat every morning that she was on that hospital bed.
She would understand that he would have to leave her. That he would have to move on after she was stable and accustomed to her new life. She would hear the decorations and catering plans of her wedding being cancelled over phone conversations. She would question God’s ability to heal and make whole. She would watch her limbs remain still despite her exhaustion from continually pushing from her trunk. She would refuse to take her drugs. She would spit in the face of her physiotherapist. She would lay still and pretend to be dead, hoping that it might happen for real.
She would be overwhelmed by the love shown when she’s finally discharged. She would be disgusted at the pity spent. She would recover from depression and become outgoing again. She would watch her fiancé go down on one knee at her next birthday. She would watch his lips ask the four word question a second time. She would tremble.
In that moment, she would realise that there are thoughts that are eternal and that in whatever posture her body assumes, she and her man would always stand side by side.