Ben

Med Student| Speaker, AAUMSA HOUSE OF CONGRESS 25/26| Cybersecurity Analyst| Google certified

[Ben @_be_no]

I WILL WIN!

[Ben @_be_no]

@usoppu 'Post script'

[Lady B - IYALODE OF X @mobola_ade]

My name is Zainab. I’m 27 years old. An SS.

That is, I live with sickle cell disease.
My parents are both AS.

Oh, they They knew.
They were told.
They still married.

They said God approved it. They said love would be enough. They said faith would cover the consequences.

I am the consequence.

I was diagnosed before I was two. My childhood memories are not playgrounds or cartoons,they are; hospitals, needles, and adults whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear.

In primary school, I missed classes so often that teachers stopped asking why. Some classmates thought I was pretending. Some thought I was cursed. I learned early how to smile while feeling different.

By secondary school, the pain episodes became more frequent. I would wake up excited for school and end the day on a hospital bed. I watched my mates grow normally while my life moved in pauses, school, hospital, recovery, repeat.

At 15, I lost my younger brother to sickle cell.
We were both SS.

That day changed me forever.

My parents broke down in front of me — crying, apologizing, saying “We followed faith. We didn’t think…”
But the damage had already been done.

Sometimes I forgive them.
Sometimes I resent them deeply.
Both feelings live in me.

In university, I tried to be normal. I joined sickle cell advocacy groups, volunteered with awareness organizations, spoke at events, encouraged parents to test their genotype. People call me strong. They call me a warrior.

What they don’t see is me crying alone at night after another silent pain episode.
They don’t see the fear that comes with planning a future in a body that doesn’t always cooperate.

And Relationships?
That’s another wound.

I’ve been loved… briefly.
The moment conversations turn serious about marriage, children, commitment….they leave. Some are honest. Some ghost me. Some promise forever and disappear quietly.

One man once said he would do anything for me. He talked about taking me abroad, better care, a life without fear. I believed him. For the first time, my heart rested.

Then one day, he stopped calling.

That heartbreak triggered one of the worst crises I’ve had as an adult. Not because of physical stress but because hope collapsed.

Now I’m older. The pain episodes come differently. Less dramatic, but more exhausting. My body recovers slower. My fears are heavier. I ask myself questions my parents never asked each other.

I am strong, yes.
But I am tired.

If you are AS and the person you love is AS, please love your unborn children enough to stop and think. Faith is not a license to ignore knowledge. I am a proof to that

I didn’t ask to be a lesson.
But if my life can prevent another child from being born into avoidable pain, then my voice matters.

That’s why I’m writing this to you. Because people listens to you and this story needs to be heard. I hope that your audience share this till it reaches those who are about to walk by faith and not by sight, Sickle Cell is real!.

Adeyinka, keep rescuing lives, I love how you raise awareness and say the truth unapologetically, those who do not like you are probably those who wish they could be you. Have you met you?. Oh,I see you Queen Ade💪🏻

[Ben @_be_no]

Faith is not a license to ignore knowledge!

[Lady B - IYALODE OF X @mobola_ade]

My name is Zainab. I’m 27 years old. An SS.

That is, I live with sickle cell disease.
My parents are both AS.

Oh, they They knew.
They were told.
They still married.

They said God approved it. They said love would be enough. They said faith would cover the consequences.

I am the consequence.

I was diagnosed before I was two. My childhood memories are not playgrounds or cartoons,they are; hospitals, needles, and adults whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear.

In primary school, I missed classes so often that teachers stopped asking why. Some classmates thought I was pretending. Some thought I was cursed. I learned early how to smile while feeling different.

By secondary school, the pain episodes became more frequent. I would wake up excited for school and end the day on a hospital bed. I watched my mates grow normally while my life moved in pauses, school, hospital, recovery, repeat.

At 15, I lost my younger brother to sickle cell.
We were both SS.

That day changed me forever.

My parents broke down in front of me — crying, apologizing, saying “We followed faith. We didn’t think…”
But the damage had already been done.

Sometimes I forgive them.
Sometimes I resent them deeply.
Both feelings live in me.

In university, I tried to be normal. I joined sickle cell advocacy groups, volunteered with awareness organizations, spoke at events, encouraged parents to test their genotype. People call me strong. They call me a warrior.

What they don’t see is me crying alone at night after another silent pain episode.
They don’t see the fear that comes with planning a future in a body that doesn’t always cooperate.

And Relationships?
That’s another wound.

I’ve been loved… briefly.
The moment conversations turn serious about marriage, children, commitment….they leave. Some are honest. Some ghost me. Some promise forever and disappear quietly.

One man once said he would do anything for me. He talked about taking me abroad, better care, a life without fear. I believed him. For the first time, my heart rested.

Then one day, he stopped calling.

That heartbreak triggered one of the worst crises I’ve had as an adult. Not because of physical stress but because hope collapsed.

Now I’m older. The pain episodes come differently. Less dramatic, but more exhausting. My body recovers slower. My fears are heavier. I ask myself questions my parents never asked each other.

I am strong, yes.
But I am tired.

If you are AS and the person you love is AS, please love your unborn children enough to stop and think. Faith is not a license to ignore knowledge. I am a proof to that

I didn’t ask to be a lesson.
But if my life can prevent another child from being born into avoidable pain, then my voice matters.

That’s why I’m writing this to you. Because people listens to you and this story needs to be heard. I hope that your audience share this till it reaches those who are about to walk by faith and not by sight, Sickle Cell is real!.

Adeyinka, keep rescuing lives, I love how you raise awareness and say the truth unapologetically, those who do not like you are probably those who wish they could be you. Have you met you?. Oh,I see you Queen Ade💪🏻

[Ben @_be_no]

@LegacySiu Cancelo
Easy

[Ben @_be_no]

@FofarPig Done

[Ben @_be_no]

If you still have knockouts and fireworks at this time please wrap it up. You're not a serious person

[Shubhvani @shubhvanii]

Neverrrrtrrrrr Everrrrrrrrr look desperate in life. Remain calm during hard times. Understand it's just your time to suffer like every great man Before YOU.

[乇 @enosxI]

Over to you, God.

I don't know what to do anymore.

[سيدة @Ajoke__xx]

Ngl, I met the saddest version of myself this year, reached my lowest, lost my spark countless times.

[Femi 🧸 @bigdaddyfemi]

If L’s dey kill, i suppose don d!e like 89 times this year

[Ben @_be_no]

"Sometimes it feels like they’re warnings, not role models."

I felt that man

[Dr POPOOLA 🌐⚕️ @popoolaadaniel]

I woke up this morning heavy.

Sad… or maybe depressed. I’m not even sure anymore. There’s a dull confusion that comes with it, like when a word no longer fits the feeling it’s meant to describe.

Imagine loathing a profession you once loved.
Really loved.
The kind of love that made the long nights feel meaningful.
Now I catch myself irritated by patients I’m supposed to care for, supposed to sit with gently, supposed to understand. And that thought alone makes me hate myself a little. But empathy is hard when stress is constant and the pay is almost insulting. When your body is present and your spirit is already gone.

Some days I genuinely want to go back to school. Start again. Read another course. Anything that doesn’t feel like this slow erosion of the soul.

I’m tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.
I’m fatigued in my bones.

Then I look ahead. At our consultants. Our professors. The people we’re told to aspire to become. And it’s terrifying. They are poor. Not just financially, but in joy. In light. In peace. Unhappy. Bitter. Worn down. Sometimes it feels like they’re warnings, not role models. And I wonder quietly… is this the destination?

Many doctors are depressed. We don’t say it loudly, but it’s everywhere. In the short tempers. In the dead eyes. In the dark jokes we laugh at too hard.

This profession kills us daily.
Not with one dramatic blow.
But slowly. Methodically.
Piece by piece.

We're Nigerian Doctors.

[Dr POPOOLA 🌐⚕️ @popoolaadaniel]

I woke up this morning heavy.

Sad… or maybe depressed. I’m not even sure anymore. There’s a dull confusion that comes with it, like when a word no longer fits the feeling it’s meant to describe.

Imagine loathing a profession you once loved.
Really loved.
The kind of love that made the long nights feel meaningful.
Now I catch myself irritated by patients I’m supposed to care for, supposed to sit with gently, supposed to understand. And that thought alone makes me hate myself a little. But empathy is hard when stress is constant and the pay is almost insulting. When your body is present and your spirit is already gone.

Some days I genuinely want to go back to school. Start again. Read another course. Anything that doesn’t feel like this slow erosion of the soul.

I’m tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.
I’m fatigued in my bones.

Then I look ahead. At our consultants. Our professors. The people we’re told to aspire to become. And it’s terrifying. They are poor. Not just financially, but in joy. In light. In peace. Unhappy. Bitter. Worn down. Sometimes it feels like they’re warnings, not role models. And I wonder quietly… is this the destination?

Many doctors are depressed. We don’t say it loudly, but it’s everywhere. In the short tempers. In the dead eyes. In the dark jokes we laugh at too hard.

This profession kills us daily.
Not with one dramatic blow.
But slowly. Methodically.
Piece by piece.

We're Nigerian Doctors.

[Ben @_be_no]

Life can really change a lot in a year mehn....

[Ben @_be_no]

@usoppu Congratulations😂

[Ben @_be_no]

@official_aaumsa Thank you AAUMSA❤️

[Official AAUMSA @official_aaumsa]

Happy Birthday 🎉 to the Speaker of the House of Congress, AAAUMSA

RT. Honorable Nwachukwu Benedict

Wishing you a day as bright as your dedication to our association.

Thank you for your tireless efforts and leadership.

Here's to another year of growth, success 🎊🎊 !!

[Ben @_be_no]

@frizzyfearless @official_aaumsa My chief sir! Thank you so much🙏

[Ben @_be_no]

This one anyday

[BMS @bloomstarbms]

What was your biggest cope in web3?

[Dr. O3🩺 @AbdulGaniyuOse1]

Pls I beg with everything you hold dear.
Pls help our family.

Help us tag, repost, crowdfund, pray to secure their release.

@Wizarab10 @ThaBoyYom @aproko_doctor @DONJAZZY @Sabinus1_ @PoliceNG @HarrisonBbi18

[Ben @_be_no]

@Glassbaby3 I'm in awe chief

[Ben @_be_no]

Waittttttt!!!!!!! Nigerians be for real rn.
You guys are using IV fluids as 'skincare' treatment? What did I just watch????