The Little Lady with a Large Heart: An Autobiography

By Kofoworola Olaofe

Kofoworola Olaofe dissects herself, exposing the deep lacerations in her heart for the world to see. This moving story narrates a young womans contentment with life in the face of disability and her triumph over the debilitating attack of scoliosis.

Excerpts:

Scoliosis is a rare disease that belittles its victim not only physically but also psychologically.

Pain percolated my spirit like a cancerous cell and continued to wreak havoc within me until it reached the depth of my soul. ... It installed itself in my body as a ruthless adversary and an unfailing companion. This monster tormented me day and night; it exposed me to humiliation and distraction until I almost went out of my mind.

... when a young woman says she doesnt care a hoot about peoples opinion of her appearance, it is either because she has gone out of her mind or that she is living in cloud cuckoo land.

While a page brings smiles to your lips, the next wells up tears in your eyes. It is an intensely moving story, as humorous as it is touching. Kofoworola is a natural story teller Kehinde A. Ayoola PhD, Kofoworolas editor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jun 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499087031

Kofoworola Olaofe

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Copyright © 2014 by Kofoworola Olaofe.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4990-8702-4

                 eBook           978-1-4990-8703-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Rev. date: 06/19/2014

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Foreword

One An Early Start

Two Diagnosed With Scoliosis

Three Living With Scoliosis In My Early Teens

Four Coping With Scoliosis In Adulthood

Five Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife

Six A Friend In Need

Seven Friends Indeed

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to God Almighty, my parents, siblings, all my friends, most especially Dr Kehinde Ayoola, Miss Kathy Saylor, Ms Suzy Frey, and all twisties (people living with scoliosis) all over the world.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It gives me enormous pleasure to acknowledge my indebtedness to my parents, Mr Francis Olaofe and Mrs Beatrice Olaofe, and my siblings, Monella, Joy, Fizz, and Precious who have made my life worthwhile. You guys are the true meaning of FAMILY. I love you to the moon and back! And I pray that our love continues to wax stronger!

I acknowledge the indelible impact and sacrificial love of my amiable editor, Dr Kehinde Ayoola, who’s more like a dad to me. You devoted time, even at your own tight schedules, to get this book edited at no cost. I can’t thank you enough.

Special thanks to my own very sweet friend and sister, Miss Kathy Saylor, who saw to the success of this book. You have always supported me in every way. Dearie, despite the distance, you know me and understand me better than I would have ever thought. Thanks for the timely words of encouragement and immeasurable support. You’re worth your weight in gold.

To my auntie, Suzy Frey, whose encouragement and pieces of advice have helped me going. You remain the best auntie anyone could ever wish for. Thanks for always having my ‘crooked’ back. Hehehe…

To my cousin, Barr. Tope Kolawole, thank you for helping to mould me into the full grown woman which I have turned out to be. I will forever be grateful for all you’ve done for me.

My thanks also go to Pastor and Deaconess M.A. Ibikunle, Pastor and Deaconess Adeola, Pastor and Deaconess Ojo, Elder and Deaconess Fati, Pastor and Pastor Olusesan Alabi, Pastor Dr and Dr Simon Ajayi, and Mrs Adejobi, for their spiritual and moral support.

My sincere appreciation also goes to the following people for their useful pieces of advice which has kept me going in life: Barrister and Mrs Femi Familusi, Ms Tanya Stpierre, Dr M. E. Ajibola, Dr Clayton Stitzel, Mrs Marion Whiting, Mrs Kerrie Bassow, Dr Bill Thomas, Ms Catherine Brockbank, Ms Debbie Wagner, Ms Anne-Marie Noone, Mrs Edythe Duenke, Dr Bridget Omafuvbe, Miss Boluwatife Odeyemi, Miss Ooreofe Kajewole, Miss Ikeoluwapo Oyelese, Miss Adylin Agbonoga, Dr Femi Otufadebo, Mrs S. Ayo-Aderele, Prof. Isaac Ojo, Prof. Oyedapo, Mr Injo Lawrence, Mrs Funmi Atewogbola, Mr Odun Fati, Mr Kayode Fati, Mr Femi Fati, Mr Gbenga Fati, The Dosumus, Dr Bukky Adedeji, Miss Sami Petersen, Mrs Sola Babalola, Dr Kelechi Okonkwo, Mrs Toyin Ogundeji, Mr Ante Uye, Mr and Barr. Yusuf, Mr Nelson Sule, Mr Tony Chuku, Mr Kelechi Nwaike, Mr Obinna Alva Dykes, Mr Joe Daramola, Miss Bolanle Apanisile, Mrs Alaba Oladele, Mr and Mrs Biola Bamidele, Mrs Maggie Zena, and Mr Tega Mudiare.

I acknowledge the indelible impact and sacrificial love of my secondary school Principal, Rev. Sr. Clementina, her successors: Rev. Sr. Aniela Anuforo, Rev. Sr. Anselm Nwachukwu, 2003 and 2004 sets of Mater Christi Girls’ High School, Igede Ekiti, all staff and 2007/2008 set of Zoology Department, 2007/2008 set of P2 girls of the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Tobi Akinrelere, all the staff of NTA, Ado-Ekiti, and all my numerous friends out there who I cannot recall now. You guys rock my world!

FOREWORD

Kofo’s autobiographical chronicles of her life, experiences, struggles, and triumphs over a life with idiopathic scoliosis in Africa is a story that is unique to her, but yet all too familiar to all scoliosis patients across the world as well. Not having to suffer with scoliosis on a daily basis, I cannot speak to her emotional and psychological pain and frustrations, but my professional experience tells me her wounds are as real as a bullet hole or broken bone seen on an x-ray. Scoliosis is truly more than just a twisted spine.

It would be easy to blame Kofo’s experience on a lack of adequate medical care, insufficient funding, or a general lack of awareness or education on the scoliosis spine condition. Each of these almost certainly played a role in this case, but her (Kofo’s) scoliosis treatment experience is being repeated across the world in countries with excellent medical care—in terms of technology and access—, sufficient funding, and scoliosis screening programs that are mandated by law. The typical scoliosis treatment experience and treatment results for an upper middle class American child are essentially the same as any other child’s, regardless of where they live. How can it be that vast differences in money, technology, and education between some third world parts of Africa and the most modern of the modern world yield essentially the same end results in the scoliosis treatment experience?

The answer lies in the culture of treating the idiopathic scoliosis condition itself, not in the culture of the people it affects. The scoliosis treatment community needs to shake off the haze of complacency and renew its appetite and desires to find a better way.

The scoliosis treatment system has failed Kofo, just as it has and will fail millions of other scoliosis patients across the world from all walks of life, income levels, and cultures. The current scoliosis treatment system will fail them in the form of crippling, failed spinal fusion surgeries that leave up to 40 per cent of patients legally defined as severely handicapped within 17-year post operation, well-intentioned scoliosis brace treatment efforts that leave life-long psychological scars and may even increase the amount of spinal deformity, and fail them in the lost opportunity and promise of early stage scoliosis intervention treatments.

Adolescent idiopathic scoliosis is primarily a neurological under- development related condition (with potentially hormonal component as well) with its primary effects on the spine in the form of a scoliosis curve. This means that the spinal curvature is in effect a symptom of the unseen underlying neurological condition. In addition, recent breakthroughs in the field of genetic testing has yielded the first known genetic sequence that allows determination of a patient’s genetic predisposition for scoliosis and, thus, launches the search for the environmental influences that help trigger the rapid onset of idiopathic scoliosis in adolescent children during growth spurts. It is this mindset of pro-active, preventative scoliosis treatment that needs to change in the culture of health care professionals if we are to ever find a better way to treat scoliosis in the future.

Please take the time to read Kofo’s story, sympathize with her pain and triumph in her success. Most of all, take the time to pass her sense of urgency and hope for increased awareness and treatment urgency for scoliosis treatment to find a better way.

By Clayton J. Stitzel DC

ONE

An Early Start

Mmmwahh… mmmwahh… mmmwahh. That was the cry heard at St. Gregory Hospital, Ado Ekiti, on the 14th day of March 1988 when a baby girl, who turned out to be me, was born into the Olaofe family. Dad wasn’t in the country during my birth, and even during the birth of my other siblings. He worked as an accountant at a bank in London. Mum was a home economics teacher in a secondary school. On the eighth day, as it was the custom in Yorubaland, I was christened Adejumoke, Temitayo, Oluwabusola, Oluwarantimi, Omotilewa, and so on. Several names were given to me by different people who were related to me in one way or another.

The name that ultimately stuck with me was Kofoworola, which literally means ‘she didn’t buy honour’. The name connotes positive pride and unspoken dignity, which seemed to please everyone, including me. It suited me nicely as it seemed to capture my unique identity, physical complexity, and spiritual configuration. It is often shortened as Kofo, but I like it better when it is said in full, as I feel challenged to live up to the name.

I have two stepbrothers, Kolawole and Moyosore, who are both grown-ups now and are married too. I am the third child among seven children, the first girl of the family and the first child of my mum. My mum has five children and the first four happened to be girls. The last, which turned out to be a boy, was named Precious. My immediate sister is Monella, the next is Joy, and the last is Fizz. We are four girls and three boys in all.

I began sitting when I was due for that stage of life. However, there was an oddity about my infancy, and this is that I never crawled before I started standing on my feet and tottering. Like other children, the major development begins with the sitting stage, followed by the crawling stage, and then the standing stage. But in my own case, I went straight to the standing stage, omitting the crawling stage.

Another odd thing about me was that I voluntarily relinquished breastfeeding when I was only four months old. I was told I took to sucking my right thumb which I found as satisfying as food.

Let me quickly mention that I was born with hernia, two on my groin and one beneath my diaphragm, in the abdominal region. Mum told me that whenever I cried, these regions were always bulging out. She also told me that I used to get so angry as a child that I threw frequent tantrums. During such times, I would hit my head against the hard wall until I got a grown-up’s attention. Another thing that Mum noticed was that no matter how deeply I slept, my body would stiffen whenever anyone touched me or attempted to carry or lift me up.

Weird, you’d say? Maybe, maybe not. I guess that is a sign of uniqueness!

I grew up amidst a loving and extended family which included my immediate family, a throng of cousins, their parents, and our grandparents. Some of the cousins that I grew up with include Dayo, Sade, Bisi, Jide, Bunmi, Sesan, Kunle, Bankole, Sola, Ronke, Bukola, Deji, and Fadekemi. My age-group amongst them were Deji and Fadeke. I still remember occasions when Deji and Fadeke would both leave home with their older siblings, leaving me behind to play with Monella, who was a year my junior. I was about two then. I always cried each time Deji and Fadeke left for school.

This did not abate for a whole term.

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Then there came a night when only God knew what descended on me; I began to weep unceasingly that other members of the family had to intervene. I pleaded tearfully that my mum should permit me to go to school with Fadeke and Deji the following day. It was at this juncture that Mum realised that I really meant to start schooling in spite of my tender age.

This desire was fuelled by the poems and rhymes which Deji and Fadeke chanted as evidence of their enlightenment at that time. They had already spent a term, and the second term was just about to begin. Mum promised me that night that she would take me to school the following day.

The following morning, I presented myself promptly to be washed and dressed up like a school child that I was determined to be. Arm in arm with Mum by my side, I trotted happily as she took me to St Joseph’s Catholic Nursery and Primary School, Ado-Ekiti. It’s a missionary school owned by Bishop M. O. Fagun and supervised by the ‘Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters’. The headmistress then was Reverend Sister Mary Breda Chilaka. When she saw me, she immediately objected to my getting admitted as I was adjudged underage.

But I proved her wrong. I began to move from class to class, and teachers around were so astonished that the little girl that I was, responded adequately to their probing questions. I was quite familiar with the expressions, ‘Yes, please’ and ‘No, thank you’ and all the grown-ups were quite fascinated by my adroitness. The headmistress was so impressed that she ordered the Nursery One teacher to register me at once. I was given the school uniform, which was a little too big for my little frame but I didn’t mind, and I was directed to my class. It was my first day in school, and I felt like Neil Armstrong on his first day on the moon.

At the end of my first year, Mum wondered if I wouldn’t have to repeat the class as I had just attained the ripe age of three which was the normal age for Nursery One. She was a teacher herself, and she wanted a solid background for me. The teacher told her that I was coping well and that I wouldn’t need to repeat the class. She said I was qualified for the next class because I had performed well beyond her expectation. I could memorize and recite poems, and I was able to hold the pencil properly. With my result and the teacher’s response, Mum agreed that I be promoted with my peers to the next class, which was Nursery Two.

The following session, Monella joined me. This was September 1991. My second sister who is the third child of my mum had been born then; she was still an infant. Monella started Nursery One while I was in Nursery Two.

I still remember vividly, as if it happened just yesterday, the day Mum came to school unannounced, as she often did, and she found me struggling with my teacher, Mrs Momoh, who always corrected me on thumb-sucking but I wouldn’t listen. She had caught me that day sucking my right thumb, which I did most times, especially when I was hungry or idle.

On that fateful day, I was idle. She warned me the first time and I heeded, but later I forgot myself and started the habit again. She approached me from a blind angle and she used the edge of a wooden ruler to hit me on my finger. As I wasn’t expecting the reprimand, the spoilt child that I was, I held her hand and began struggling with her. Unknown to me, Mum was taking in my incorrigible act. She must have been embarrassed that a child of hers could behave so reprehensibly in public.

As an apparent face-saving device, Mum grabbed the cane on Mrs Momoh’s table and gave me the lashing of a lifetime. My teacher had to plead on my behalf before Mum would let go of me. My teacher then narrated the story of what happened, and Mum instructed her angrily not to spare the rod anytime I misbehaved or sucked my thumb.

Notwithstanding, at the end of the session, I passed excellently, and Mum again came to ask my teacher if she thought I could cope with the next class which was Primary One. ‘Of course, she would cope,’ was her prompt response.

I was quite outspoken for a young girl. I would go to my older cousin’s class and his classmates would carry me around with their friends. As a child, I was easily loved by everyone I encountered. Another of my unique features was my long hair. Mum would always make it look very attractive and my seniors at school would call me merely to admire my hair.

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When I returned home from school, I would gather my siblings together to teach them the rhymes and poems that I had learnt that day in school. I loved my siblings a lot. We also played together with other kids from the neighbourhood. We would play ‘hide and seek’, ‘police and thieves’, ‘ten-ten’, and lots more.

During the long vacation, I marked my birthday with my siblings. Although I was born in March, but as a cost-saving ploy, Mum sometimes made my sisters and I celebrate our birthdays together. Mum could bake great cakes, and she would make cakes that showed the celebrant’s age. Being a home economist, she had the cans for all ages at home. Friends and family members were often invited to share in the celebration. Prominent invitees included the Asakes, the Omopariolas, the Durodolas, and a host of others who were our childhood friends.

Dishes like jollof rice with fried beef and moi-moi were prepared by Mum and my cousins’ mums. We had drinks of Coke, Fanta, and Sprite. Four cartons of Cabin biscuits and sweets were shared amongst all of us. Stepmum was always around too with one of my half-brothers, Moyosore. I had a swell time. I was four, Monella was three, and Joy was one. We