pharmacophobia ( fear of drugs)

Pharmacophobia (fear of Drugs)

I never wanted to come here in the first place but Lolade, my elder sister/guardian practically dragged me here.

The hospital has always been my least favourite place. With the nurses and medical practitioners running around to attend to patients, the cries and wails of patients and so on.

The one thing I disliked the most was the smell. That signature antiseptic smell tends to claw at my lungs, competing with fresh air.

Memories of the last time I was here, washed over me, like a heavy flood and It suddenly felt like my heart was soaring around the room.

"Ladeeee!" I whined as I tried to stop her from entering the pharmacy.

"What?" She glared at me and I tried not to flinch at the intensity of her gaze.

I cleared my throat, "Lade, I'm fine. It's nothing serious. The doctor is just making it seem like it's a big deal," I slowly rubbed my aching temple, "It's just malaria. Please don't make me go there." I pleaded, softly. It was painful enough for her to drag me out of the house to see the doctor, now she wanted to take me to the place I dreaded the most.

"Esther," She let out a sigh, "It's this same malaria that some people die of. I know it's hard for you, but I think it's time to face that fear of yours," She stated with that same voice that reminded me of honey mixed with whiskey. As if someone had warmed her vocal cords, softening the edges. She sounded just like my mom.

Yes, she was talking about pharmacophobia. When my therapist told me that I had pharmocophobia, I laughed in his face because it sounded so ridiculous. I didn't know it was even a thing until I made my research and spoke to other medical practitioners. 

I wasn't always like that you know. I never even imagined I would be afraid of taking medications or that the sight or smell would make me anxious until I saw the impact on my Mom's life.

I remembered it like it was yesterday. It all started with the intake of a prescribed dose of Methamphetamines. It all seemed like she was getting better, but we all thought wrong.

Slowly, she lacked control and became so addicted to it. I couldn't even recognize my mother anymore.  She slowly withdrew and neglected her family. We tried helping her, but it seemed like she didn't even want the help. 

On an unfortunate day, I came back from school ready to share the news of my admission but instead I was welcomed by her unconscious body lying in our living room, with a few pills of drugs beside her. I slowly made my way to her, kneeling beside her. I didn't know what to do or how to feel. I just stared at her like a slack-jaw idiot. I could still see her chest rising and falling a little, a sign that she was still alive.

Right on cue, Lolade walked in with a small shopping bag. A gasp escaped her mouth when she spotted us, dropping whatever she bought on the tiled floor, and running towards us.

"What happened?" She asked, cradling Mom's pale face in her dainty palms.

"I-I don't know. I sa-saw her like that," I explained, my lips trembling, as I stared at the ghastly whiteness that overspread mom's cheek.

"Jesus! I just went to get what she said she wanted to eat. Get the car key now!" She ordered, her dark brown orbs shining with panic and I didn't waste a second to get into action.

We both carried her unconscious body into the back seat of the car. I laid her head on my lap, stroking her dark brown hair and silently saying little words of prayer. I panicked when I couldn't feel her shallow breath anymore.

"It's nothing, mummy would be okay," I muttered to myself, as I continued stroking her hair.

In less than ten minutes, we arrived at the hospital and she was rushed into the Emergency room. We both waited outside the room. I sat on the cold marble tiles, with my knee to my chest as tears rolled down my flushed cheeks, racing to the corners of my mouth. I quickly wiped them with the back of my palms as I took a ragged breath despite the protest my rib cage put up as it crushed my lungs together, making it harder to breathe. On the other hand,  Lolade kept pacing back and forth with her hands on her head.

Suddenly, I broke the silence.

"I don't think mommy was breathing when they carried her in," I whispered in a shaky voice. Lolade stopped pacing, looking at me with wide eyes.

"Don't say things like that. Mommy would be alright," She said but her body said otherwise. It was as if she knew the outcome, but none of us was ready to face it.

Twenty minutes later, the doctors came to break the devastating news to us. 

"I'm so sorry. She couldn't make it," He said, in an attempt to sound sympathetic towards us. Apparently, the drugs messed her up. The doctor kept listing all the damage the drugs had done to her system, but I couldn't even register what he was saying. I just felt numb. I rested my head on the wall, as I allowed the tears to roll down, tugging at the roots of my hair.

It's been sixteen months since Mom's death and I haven't found the courage to face that fear. My therapist has helped in some ways, like exposure therapy and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy(CBT), but as He would always say, it all depends on me.

I guess today would be the day, I would face it. I faced my sister with a faint quivering smile.

"Okay, let's do this. Please, stay with me," I whispered, holding onto her right hand tightly. 

A dark brown orbs lit up like firecrackers, as she brushed her fingers on my cheeks.

"I am not going anywhere," She whispered before we both walked into the pharmacy slowly.

Writer Details: Ibukun✍️

Location:University Of Benin,Edo State,Nigeria🇳🇬