Collision Course (1)

On the morning of Sunday, the 17th of November 2024, I was part of 22 people who were in a bus heading to Eket for an evangelism outreach in a secondary school. While on our way there, the people seated beside me and I began singing and reciting this memory verse:

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. “2 Corinthians 4:16–18 (ESV):

Little did we know that this memory verse was bracing us for the impact that was going to hit just a few minutes later.

Seated at the last seat of the bus, I saw how suddenly an oncoming car, at high speed, swerved off its lane and was heading towards us. I watched as our driver quickly swerved out of our lane to avoid a collision. But just as our bus was moving into the other lane, the oncoming vehicle returned to its original lane, and there was a big bang, followed by sounds of shattering glass, metal, and screams of “Jesus!”

The two cars stopped abruptly upon impact, and people standing by the roadside began to run towards the vehicles involved in the accident. The back door of our bus was immediately opened by passersby, and we were asked to get down quickly. There were shouts of “Fuel is pouring!” from the people outside, which made my brethren inside the bus (who could move) jump out through whatever opening they could find, be it a door or a window, because of the risk of an explosion.

While all this was happening, I couldn’t move, as one of my legs was trapped inside a spare tyre that was in the bus. My inability to jump out through the back door was worsened by the sharp, throbbing pain racing from the base of my neck straight to my head. It felt like something had broken around the right side of my neck. I used my right hand to support that part of my neck while I struggled to pull my leg out of the place where it was trapped. One of the brethren saw me struggling and helped pull out my leg from the spare tyre, and we both jumped out of the bus through the back door.

After I jumped out, I was dazed for a couple of seconds, trying to understand what had just happened. I stood at the back of the bus, holding my neck, and all I could say was “Jesus” repeatedly. At that moment, I realised some people still needed to be carried out of the bus, as they couldn’t move. With a lot of adrenaline pumping, I forgot the pain in my neck and joined in carrying some of my brethren who couldn’t walk.

The scene was chaotic as frantic efforts were made to move the injured away from the wreckage and to break the door to the driver’s seat, where Brother Michael, our driver was trapped between the steering wheel and the seat.

By now, some cars had stopped at the scene, and their drivers were being begged to carry the critically injured to the nearest hospital. Shouts, cries, prayers, and tongues of all kinds filled the air. One very dramatic sister was running around without shoes, hands on her head, shouting, “Brother Michael o! Brother Michael!”

Help from Strangers

I didn’t know when I started shouting at one of the drivers who had offered his car to carry our critically injured brethren to the hospital. I was yelling at him and the others because I didn’t understand why they were taking so long to start moving. Why was I shouting? One of our brothers was unconscious, limp, and looked almost lifeless, with blood coming out of his nose. Why wouldn’t these drivers start moving the critical cases first? I was frustrated, but none of the cars were mine, so we still had to wait.

After about 25 minutes, the critical cases were finally moved to the University of Uyo Teaching Hospital. Shortly after we arrived at the Accident & Emergency Unit, Pastor Ita arrived too. He was moving from person to person, assessing injuries, asking where they felt pain, laying hands on those places, and helping to lift and wheel some of them into the ward.

Although I was still feeling pain in my neck, it didn’t seem serious, so I joined in carrying the critically wounded from the cars, wheeling some on stretchers and pushing others in wheelchairs into the ward. I remember Sister Amarachi (standing with Pastor) asking if I had any injuries. I said no, just a little pain around my neck. When I said that, Pastor immediately laid his hand on my neck and muttered a prayer.

My Neck and God’s Intervention

After all our brethren were moved into the ward and being attended to, I found a place to sit. This was around noon, I think. As the adrenaline wore off, I began to feel the intensity of the pain in my neck and realised I had pain in my chest too. The “little pain” now felt like a heavy weight attached to my neck. My neck became so heavy that it felt like it could no longer carry my head. I desperately needed to lie down, but there was no bed available in the ward, so I lay in Pastor’s car.

By now, my neck had become stiff. I couldn’t turn my head to the right, and only slightly to the left. A severe headache came alongside. I remained in Pastor’s car until late evening, when it was my turn for an X-ray. When it was time for the X-ray, just raising my chin to give the radiographers a better view made me scream from the pain. It really felt like my neck could no longer bear the weight of my head.

It was already night when my X-ray result was reviewed. The attending doctor said the bone in my neck appeared to have shifted out of place, but he would wait for his superior’s opinion in the morning. In the meantime, I was given a soft neck collar and pain medication.

The next morning, a Consultant Neurosurgeon came with his team for ward rounds. He looked at my X-ray and pointed to a spot, saying, “There is a fracture here, a C-7 fracture.” Upon hearing this, I said a short prayer in my heart, “God, abeg.” He then requested a CT scan to confirm the extent of the damage and told me to switch to a rigid neck collar.

Three days later, the CT scan showed no C-7 fracture or any other fracture. It was explained that a muscle had been strained and shifted, and that the surrounding tissues would need time to heal. I was advised to keep wearing the rigid collar for a few weeks.

I’m very much grateful to God for the following:

Protecting me and my brethren from death that morning. It could have been worse, but God stepped in and said, “Thus far and no more.”
Preventing a spinal injury. At the hospital, I heard stories of people with similar symptoms who ended up paralysed or needing surgery. I was told spinal surgery costs around ₦8M.
Speedy recovery. Though I had to be on bed rest and couldn’t sit up for long initially, by the second week I could sit for a few hours, and by the third week I sat through a full all-night meeting.
For a neck—and one that can turn. I no longer need to turn my whole body just to look around.
Provision through Pastor for medical bills, including the CT scan, which would have been a major financial burden.
The blessing of a church family and the care and support I have received through this recovery process.
The lessons God reinforced in my heart while lying on my sickbed, pondering the brevity of life and how, in the twinkle of an eye, one could be gone.