"Papa, you have been coughing for three days now, I think we should go to the hospital" I pleaded with him for the umpteenth time. Like always, he was still adamant, claiming it was nothing.

"Chidinma, hospital is for people who have life threatening condition. This is just a cough, I've never heard that somebody died from a cough" he replied.
"Papa, if you haven't heard that doesn't mean, people are not dying from cough" I tried to convince him.

"Hmmmm, don't worry my dear, it'll pass, it's just cough"

Papa was always like this, he never went to the hospital for anything, this made us wonder if there was an agreement between himself and the hospital never to cross paths.

He'd always patronize the small pharmacy by the corner of our house, swallowing different kinds of drugs.

On a fateful day, he was working on the farm, and all of a sudden, he started coughing profusely with blood, we rushed him to the healthcare center. The doctor said he was in the final stages of tuberculosis. If we had brought him much earlier, he'd have been able to remedy the situation.