I have always heard that malaria kills, but I never believed it till I was bedridden 4 two weeks due to that damn illness.
It started like every other malaria and I quickly sent it to hell. Then a week later, after dinner, I threw up and continued vomiting all the through the night. By morning I was so freaky weak and totally dehydrated. First treatment began after the pharmacist prescribed, after three days of no changes, I thought I was going to die. Really. It was then I realised I really wanted to live. I remembered the verse from the bible that asked God of what use the dead were to Him since they cannot praise Him from the grave, and I asked Him the same question. In my weakness and sickness infected body, me myself and I did some serious prayers and binding and believing that by morn, I will be healed.
Then I was found in my room one evening crying because I was tired of being ill. i couldn't do the simpliest task for myself. I couldn't eat anything and the drugs made me sicker. One week and no improvement. There's so much more I need to do on earth. The next day, that treatment stopped and I got admitted for real. Three and a half drips and I was still a vegetable. Jesus.
Anyway, I am alive to tell the tale. Doc said I had it bad when the test came in. Said if my genotype had been AA, that it would have been worse for me, that becasue I am AS and have some immune whatever jargons he was speaking, I could fight it. I was like, 'really'. After this hell I have been through?
And the day I could walk round the house without panting, I thanked God for my health and prayed, please Lord, I never want to be ill again. Not even headache. I don't want it. Thank You for saving me.