Miracle Ukwueze @miracleukwueze

Today was a day filled with frenzy and haste. I woke up slightly later than usual, and as I glanced at the clock, panic set in realizing that I had only a short time to prepare for school. I took the fastest bath of my life, brushed my teeth in record time, and dashed out of the house, the lingering scent of toothpaste still in the air.

The practical I had been preparing for was scheduled to start at 2 pm, and as I checked my watch, the time was already 2:06 pm. I rushed to school, my heart racing with the fear of being late. To my surprise, I found that when I arrived, the class hadn't even commenced. My hurried rush had been unnecessary!

With the tension of being late lifted, I decided to treat myself at a nearby canteen. Craving something sweet and refreshing on this scorching day, I grabbed a chilled soft drink. The cold liquid was a much-needed relief from the blistering weather. As I sipped my drink, I took a moment to relax and enjoy the unexpected serenity of the day.

Last night was absolutely unbearable. The heat was unforgiving, and I found myself tossing and turning, drenched in sweat. It was as if my body had turned into its own personal sauna. I could hardly believe how profusely I was perspiring; it felt like I could literally wring out my clothes and take a bath in my own sweat. The thought was far from appealing, but that's just how relentless the heat was.

As the night dragged on, it became clear that sleep was a distant dream. I lay there, feeling like I was melting, unable to find any relief. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning, around 4am, that I finally caved in to my desperation for sleep. Feeling defeated, I grabbed a towel, wet it thoroughly, and laid it out on the floor. It was the best I could do. I collapsed on the damp, cool surface, hoping for some respite.

Eventually, the floor chilled my overheated body, and exhaustion finally won over the oppressive heat. I drifted off into a fitful sleep, with the faint aroma of the damp floor serving as a reminder of the night's torment. It wasn't the most dignified way to pass the night, but in that oppressive heat, any relief was a blessing. I could only hope that tonight would be kinder.

Agba was known for his antics and his fondness for visiting the cashew tree down the road to throw stones at the ripe and unripe fruits. His mother always warned him to stay away from the tree, but Agba was as stubborn as a mule and never heeded her advice.

One sunny day, Agba, being his usual stubborn self, sneaked off to the cashew tree, determined to have another go at his favorite hobby. As he lobbed stones at the fruit bunches, a mischievous bee dived down from the leaves and aimed straight for Agba's lips, leaving him with a resounding sting and a comically swollen pout.

Wincing in pain, Agba dashed back home to his mother, shouting in distress. By the time he reached home, his lips had swelled up, making him look like a comical caricature of himself. The other children in the village couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of Agba's ridiculous face.

His mother, trying hard not to giggle, took one look at her son's swollen lips and immediately reached for a bottle of red oil. As she rubbed the oil on his lips, she couldn't contain the urge to laugh, but she fought hard to keep a straight face, knowing Agba was in pain.

In the end, the swelling went down, and Agba learned his lesson. From that day on, he never went near the cashew tree again. The incident became a source of amusement in the village, and whenever Agba tried to act stubborn, all his mother had to say was, "Remember the bees and the cashew tree," and Agba would quickly change his mind.

Nursing school has been one of the toughest challenges I've ever faced. The days seem to blend together, one endless cycle of lectures, practical labs, and clinical rotations at the health center. Time has become a luxury, an elusive thing slipping through my fingers as I desperately juggle assignments, readings, and preparing for exams.

There's little time to do most of the things I was fond of. Story writing used to be my escape, a way to let my imagination soar and create worlds of my own. Composing poems felt like breathing, a part of me that I could express freely. But now, those passions have taken a back seat. I miss the joy of weaving words together, of creating something that brings life to my thoughts and emotions. There's an ache in my heart, knowing that my stories are left untold and my poems remain unwritten.

Social media used to be my platform to connect with others, to share my thoughts and creations. I miss the interaction, the sense of community among fellow writers and artists. My absence from these platforms feels like I'm slowly fading from a world I once felt connected to. The little time I have is consumed by studies and exhaustion, leaving me with little energy to engage in the activities that once fueled my spirit.

But amidst the chaos and relentless demands of nursing school, I remind myself why I chose this path. The passion for helping others, the desire to make a meaningful difference in people's lives. These dreams push me forward, igniting a flicker of determination in the depths of my fatigue.

Though the weight of nursing school feels suffocating at times, I know it's a temporary sacrifice for the greater good. So, I press on, knowing that one day, when I hold that nursing degree in my hand, I can reclaim the passions I've set aside.