Opportunity in Tragic Disguise

            How many people can say that they never got to know their older brother because he died before you were even born? How many people can say they have ‘witnessed’ good coming out of bad? Not too many people I’m sure, but I am one of the few that can. I know that this statement is a common, played out cliché, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. There are so many great examples of events that have happened in my life to prove this testimony. Since I cannot explain all of them, I will share one story that stands out above the rest.

            My bother, Ogbonna Omeronye, was born August 27, 1989 in my parents’ home country of Nigeria. Ogbo was a cheery baby; very protective of my Mom. Ogbo was my Mom’s first living child. My Mom suffered from the still birth of another baby boy before him, so naturally she was very protective of Ogbo as well. On Ogbo’s first birthday, my Mom threw a birthday party for him. When she and the guests were taking pictures with him, they noticed that his left pupil was reacting in a strange way to the flash of the camera. My Mom had her suspicions, but she did not know for sure what was wrong.

            After that day, my Mom frantically searched for a doctor who would examine Ogbo’s eye. She was finally successful and found two doctors somewhere within the cities of Nigeria. Both doctors falsely diagnosed him with cataracts, an eye disease in which the lens becomes covered in a thick film that affects sight, eventually causing total loss of sight. But my Mom still had her doubts and she decided to have him checked out by a third doctor. In January of 1991, the third doctor ultimately diagnosed him with retinoblastoma: cancer of the retina. The doctor suggested that she find a way to take Ogbo to America for treatment due to the lack of resources they had in Nigeria.

            On May 25, 1991, she and Ogbo arrived in New York and immediately went to Cornell Medical Center. He was seen by the eye doctors and, again, retina cancer was confirmed. In June of that same year, the affected left eye was removed and he was given an artificial eye. Ogbo then started chemotherapy and radiation.

            Soon after, cancer cells were found on the optic nerves of Ogbo’s left eye. Chemo treatments were boosted to everyday doses for the next few months. In December of 1991, shortly after his second birthday, Ogbo was suffering through so much pain that he could not walk, stand, or sit. Uneasy, the doctors then re-checked him and found that the cancer had spread to his right eye, spine, and brain. The doctors said he would not make it. Even so, my Mom, who was eight months pregnant and sentenced to bed rest, still prayed and hoped; she just couldn’t lose another one.

            On the cold morning of January 14, 1992, my two year old brother Ogbo died, very much in pain. My Mom expressed to me that she didn’t know what to do after that. Due to the fact that she was on bed rest, she couldn’t go to his funeral thus she does not know where he was buried. All she knows is that he lays somewhere in the ground, cold in neighboring state of New Jersey.

            Some people might wonder how this story pertains to me and my ‘I Believe’ statement; I believe everything happens for a reason. Well, sad but true, if my brother Ogbo did not have cancer and need treatment in the U.S., my family and I would not be living in the wonderful country of America.  Instead, we would be living in the broken country of Nigeria, most likely waiting for the coveted Visas to come to the U.S., only dreaming about the opportunities we take for granted here.