Young woman grateful to see the positive
It had been five years since Chinonye Omeje had seen her mother’s face. The two live together in a Milton apartment, but Chi Chi, as she is called, had been blinded in a horrific accident in her native Nigerian village. In August 2004, as the 14-year-old was checking on a pot of stew, she suffered an epileptic seizure and fell face-first into the fire, the tumbling pot dumping its scalding contents onto her head.
Chi Chi wasn’t supposed to live. After spending a year in a rural clinic, she was discovered by a Nigerian-born American citizen, Jacinta Aniagolu-Johnson, who arranged to bring her to the Boston Shriners Hospital for Children. Since then, Chi Chi has been treated for grievous burns: much of her nose, lips, eyelids, and an ear had melted away. Her right hand was disfigured, along with her neck and chest.
The Shriners hospital agreed to treat her for free. The Children’s Burn Foundation is paying the rent and utilities on the apartment. Aniagolu-Johnson did some fund-raising, which helps cover living costs, and the Milton public schools sent tutors over. In the winter, Chi Chi began attending the Perkins School for the Blind in Newton. She and her mother, Helen, are grateful.
“America,’’ says Helen, “is 100 percent more helpful than my country.’’
At the Shriners hospital, Chi Chi underwent reconstructive surgeries and skin grafts. More than anything, she wanted to see again. Eye doctors who looked at her shook their heads; they thought her case hopeless. But then Dr. Victor Perez, a corneal specialist at Bascom Palmer Eye Institute at the University of Miami, heard about her and agreed to take a look. Against long odds, he thought he could help.
“The big problem was that Chi Chi has no eyelids,’’ says Perez, “and the eye needs to be well protected.’’ Dr. Robert Sheridan at Shriners took skin from the girl’s legs and created flaps that covered the eyes.
In March, Chi Chi and Helen traveled to Miami, on plane tickets donated by the Children’s Burn Foundation. They stayed at the Ronald McDonald House near the hospital, cooking their meals in the common kitchen and enjoying the heat so similar to their native Africa. There were several pre-op appointments, including one with a counselor, in which Chi Chi was asked some key questions: How would she feel if she saw her disfigured face?
“However my face looks, it doesn’t matter, provided I can see,’’ replied Chi Chi, who is now 19. “I will be happy because I haven’t seen anything in five years.’’
On April 10, Chi Chi underwent an eight-hour operation performed by three doctors; the hospital donated all services. Perez implanted a keratoprosthesis, a device made of clear plastic designed to replace scarred or diseased corneas. If the surgery were successful, Perez would open the flap a little wider in a follow-up procedure, and her eyesight would return gradually.
“We were very excited because when we first opened the skin, her ocular surface was pretty good. There wasn’t as much scar tissue as we’d imagined,’’ says Perez.
The day after the surgery, the bandages were removed, and Perez asked Chi Chi if she could see any light. She could. Two weeks later, she had the second procedure. This time, she could see her mother’s smile. Perez ordered special glasses for her: With them, she has 20/30 vision.
Helen showed her family photos, and Chi Chi was amazed at how her younger brother had grown. “I said, this is my sister who comes before me, this is my Daddy, this is my brother, these are the grandchildren. My mother was crying.’’ Chi Chi was also happy to see new family members: a niece and a nephew named Precious and Favor, born within the last year.
Both mother and daughter, devout Christians, credit their doctors - and God - with what they call a miracle.
Perez is cautious; he knows there’s a possibility of infection or inflammation. He also knows that for Chi Chi to wear her glasses comfortably, she needs more reconstruction of her nose and ear, at Shriners in Boston. Though he will follow her case closely, he doesn’t think the right eye is a good prospect. “There’s a little bit of retinal difficulty,’’ he says.
He was inspired by his patient’s positive attitude. “She’s amazing,’’ he says. “Her aura is beautiful and she brightens any room she walks into.’’
Helen and Chi Chi haven’t seen their family back home in four years: Their emergency medical visas would not allow their reentry to the United States, even if they had the money for airfare. So they use $2 calling cards to phone home every weekend.
But at least Chi Chi can now see the videotape of her sister’s wedding in December, instead of just listening to it. She’s enjoying “Hannah Montana,’’ thinks President Obama is handsome, and is happy she can help her mother with chores such as sweeping the floor.
“I can pick out my clothes and dress myself,’’ she says. “My face doesn’t bother me. I’m OK with my face.’’
When they left the hospital, Chi Chi put her white cane away and, for the first time in five years, walked alone. Where once the daughter leaned into the mother, who gripped her arm tightly to guide her steps, now the mother, who has a troublesome knee, cannot keep up with the daughter.
And it makes the mother very, very happy.
Globe columnist Bella English, who lives in Milton, can be reached at english@globe.com. 