The Tribune

By Dr Kenneth D Kemp

WE OFTEN learn life’s lessons, whether consciously or subconsciously, through our own experiences or by learning from what others have taught us but the lessons that resonate most deeply typically come from individual trials.

My patient Danielle, for example, encourages readers to savour every moment that you spend with your loved ones because no day or hour is promised.

It started with a stare of disbelief. Here is how the story unfolds.

Danielle vividly recalls the look of horror and confusion in her mother’s eyes when she told her that her husband of nearly six decades would not be coming home. Forever etched in her subconscious are lessons that she’ll never forget like learning that back pain can indicate heart damage and excessive sweating can be caused by organ failure.

Two years ago, Danielle’s father, Asa, (both names are aliases) walked into the treatment room of a local clinic suffering from intense back pain. He’d been sitting in the waiting room for almost three hours and his legs were stiff.

As he got up, his feet shuffled noticeably without reprieve and he walked slightly slumped, desperately fighting to maintain his balance as his legs threatened to give out.

Once he made it to the room and sat into the chair, he laid his head back against the wall, made a loud audible gasp for air and lost consciousness.

Danielle screamed for a nearby doctor and when he placed his hand on Asa’s throat, his brows knitted, he looked deeply confused and motioned for another doctor to come.

Danielle was asked to leave the room.

At the same time, her brother returned holding a sandwich for their father who hadn’t eaten all morning. They were both escorted into a waiting room near the back of the clinic but couldn’t understand why there wasn’t a frantic commotion of medical personnel rushing to resuscitate him.

They were left dumfounded when a doctor came in and notified them that their 85-year-old father who had come in because of back pain was dead.

Danielle screamed in horror with such soul-crushing intensity that the windows became eclipsed by a frosty haze and appeared to weep as the walls all shook in unison. Echoes of their spine-chilling bellows reverberated past the waiting area and into the parking lot.

Before this, Asa had been sweating profusely and his pain was obvious. Although he’d suffered from back pain for over 20 years, it was never to this extent.

Upon their arrival, Danielle notified the receptionist at the clinic that her father was in visible distress. But this was the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic and the waiting area was crowded with people who’d been waiting much longer. So, they sat and waited for their name to be called.

At the time, Asa’s breathing was laboured and he looked tired. That was when his son offered to get him a sandwich. Waiting, Asa drank some water and intermittently rested his head on Danielle’s shoulder.

It was only two days prior to going to the clinic that Asa complained of pain in his back, attributing it to the fact that he dragged a heavy bag out of his closet on the day of pain onset.

Before that, though mild pain had come and gone for two decades, he’d been absolutely pain-free for quite some time.

So now, with no relief, despite a closely followed self-prescribed regimen of rest, heat and over-the-counter oral anti-inflammatories, he sought professional treatment.

Given the fact that he wrestled with back pain for so long and he’d recently injured himself moving his bag, the decision was then made by his wife and children to take Asa to a clinic rather than the hospital.

Having gone from normal to progressively weak in such a short time, Asa slowly hobbled his way, unassisted, into that local clinic with his son and daughter dutifully by his side.

They opted not to let their mother come along because of her age and the high risk of being exposed to someone with COVID- 19. So, she waved goodbye to them as they left, hopeful that he’d get an injection and feel better before nightfall.

The last time that Asa had been in a medical facility was five years earlier when he suffered from a stroke, which occurred while he was attending his neighbour’s funeral. At the grave site, when his wife asked him a question, his words were slurred but she imagined that he was overcome with grief. He remained quiet for most of that evening, even when his daughter Danielle asked him a question. It wasn’t until his son noticed the distortion in his face that they realised what happened and took him to the hospital.

Within two days of admission, he was discharged from the hospital with no focal deficits other than a mild speech impediment and his responses required a more concerted effort on his behalf. The ordeal did however reveal an irregular heartbeat so he was referred to a cardiologist who implanted a pacemaker to mitigate his palpitations.

Born in Nassau, Asa was the youngest of three children. He was a lodge member and chemist by trade and his stroke occurred two months following the death of his brother. As a child, he had an accident while playing and broke his toe but never got it fixed. The digit eventually became fixed in a misaligned position and, for the rest of his life, stood as a dormant reminder of the ramifications of inappropriate or delayed healthcare.

Growing up, many would have described him as brave and strong. Those traits carried over into adulthood and although Asa was quiet, he was also honest, loyal and direct.

He loved Bahamian food and news and he was most appreciative of the fact that the stroke hadn’t hindered his ability to play the organ. Music, particularly Christian hymns, came from inside his soul and flowed out of his body through his fingertips in a steady stream of grace. Playing filled him with passion and kept a smile on his face no matter the obstacle he faced. ‘May your whole life prove that God is good’ is a lyric sung by gospel artist Travis Greene and Asa sought to do just that.

At the age of 27, he met and fell in love with his wife. They met in church and were married for 58 years and had three sons and one daughter. On their wedding day, they danced, laughed and celebrated the start of their life with many of their loved ones.

Once alone, the newlyweds toasted to the start of what they hoped would be a beautiful life together. And it was. Up until that moment in the clinic when he rested his head against a wall, and gasped his last breath.

It’s been said that you’ll never really know true peace until you’re dead. The part of this saying that’s rarely iterated, however, is that your death then simultaneously robs peace from your loved ones. And no matter the age, if it’s perceived that you still have more to offer, it will always feel as though your life was cut short and ended before it truly began.

To cope, loved ones then muster their way through the darkness and in time try their best to adjust to life’s new normal, holding their breath and dreading the day that the next crisis unfolds.

While young, and with his whole life before him, Asa couldn’t wait to grow up, eager to see what adventures, disguised as challenges, lay ahead. From then forward, he always remained hopelessly optimistic that someday, with blessings from above, he’d forever be surrounded by family.

And, like so many of us, unaware of how his life might end, he simply and consistently prayed for his future to be filled with love, happiness and good fortune.

This is The KDK Report.

• Nicknamed ‘The Prince of Podiatry’, Dr Kenneth D Kemp is the founder and medical director of Bahamas Foot and Ankle located in Caves Village, Western New Providence. He served as the deputy chairman for the Health Council for five years and he currently sits on the board of directors for the Princess Margaret Hospital Foundation in his role as co-vice-chairman.