In June, I became a Medical Doctor. It was a miracle, one of God’s greatest works in my life.
Many people don’t know I almost missed induction with my set because I had a resit in Surgery.
Let’s go back to the beginning. In February, I wrote my final MBBS exams. I studied hard and promised myself I would pass everything in one sitting. Resits had followed me through medical school. In 2023, I even repeated a class.
No matter how much I tried, something always went wrong. Sometimes, I missed the mark by one or two points. It broke my heart, made me question my abilities, and made me wonder if I was meant for medical school, if I could be a doctor at all.
During that hard period, people I once called friends made jokes about me and my resit, throwing mocking comments disguised as comedy at me. That’s in the past now, I cut them off. Fast forward to February again, and I began my final exams.
My continuous assessment in December went well. I worked hard because I didn’t want any surprises. I poured everything into those exams.
Two days before results came out, three people called to congratulate me. They said I had passed. Some classmates heard before I did. I felt overjoyed but decided to wait and see it before celebrating. The official result told a different story when it came.
After some follow-ups, I found out what happened. Some shady dealings tampered with my results, breaking me again. I didn’t know where to start. My body and soul felt drained.
I had always bounced back quickly, but this time I couldn’t. I had had enough. Heartbroken and angry, I decided to quit medical school.
A few people in my corner refused to let me quit. They prayed with me, brought me food, listened to my rants, and gave me space to feel.
Eventually, I decided my story would not end in pain. Even if I felt weak, I would finish strong. I wiped my tears, stood up again, and asked God to carry me.
Preparing for one paper, Surgery, felt heavier than all my previous exams combined. Doubts crept in. What if I fail again? What if everyone moves on and I’m stuck? God placed people around me to remind me this was not how my story ends.
One day while studying, I broke down. I closed my books and cried. In that moment, the Holy Spirit whispered in my heart, I have not brought you this far to leave you. That word became my anchor.
In March, my dad told me to contact my designers. He said, “As you are preparing for the exam, prepare for the induction because you’ve already finished it. It is done.” I reached out to Aalys Daniels and Dr. Michael to make my scrubs, ward coat, and induction outfit.
I had booked Aalys since January 2023, even before my repeat year, told her she would be making my clothes. They started work, and by April, the clothes arrived. I remember speaking with Aalys over the phone, pouring out my fears. She didn’t just encourage me, she prayed over the clothes.
They fit perfectly, as if faith had stitched every seam. Then in April, heartbreak struck again. My then-partner and I separated. Around the same time, my school set the induction date and announced that everyone with a resit would miss it because we wouldn’t write our exams in time.
I had already missed induction with my set last year. Now this? Hopelessness crushed me. I cried and shut down. When I told my parents, my mum, in Igbo, said “Chineke na-ahu ihe na-eme. E bọ omasiri Ya, omasiri m.” God sees what is happening. If it pleases Him, it pleases me. Her words gave me peace.
I couldn’t pray, but my friends prayed for me. Something in me still refused to accept the outcome, refused to accept that I would miss the induction. A group of us went to plead with the school authorities to let us write our exams before the induction.
They refused, insisting the timing was ideal. When they eventually relented, they gave us a few options, but deep down, I knew those options wouldn’t work, not for me, and not for any of us. Still, I didn’t stop praying. And the people around me didn’t stop praying either.
My friend, Baby Boy Sammy invited me to his photoshoot on a random day. He wanted me to get some air, take a break from worrying and stress.
That day, I met someone I had known from a distance, my soon-to-be guardian angel. We talked, and over the next few days, I told them my story, and they spoke life into me. Everything they spoke over, came to pass in existence eventually.
MaryJane called one day. “Chioma, Abia State University has moved their induction date. If they’ve moved theirs, ours might move too.” I took it as a divine sign. A stirring rose in me, urging me to not give up. Pick up your book again. Pray at 3 a.m.
That’s exactly what I did.
Days later, Benny screamed while checking her phone. “They’ve moved the induction date! You have time to write and join us!” We screamed, cried, and laughed. I called my parents. My dad said, “Remember what I told you in March? It is done.” He’d always had faith.
I was moving in faith. I didn’t know how or when, but I believed that I was going to pass this exam. And if I was going to pass, I needed to be prepared. But God wasn’t done showing just how intentional He is.
While I had already started preparing for my induction way back in March, many of my colleagues hadn’t. They were still trying to catch up, figure things out, get clothes sewn, make plans.
God saw that, and what did He do? He moved the induction again by one more week, giving them time to prepare. God came through. Again. Eventually, our resit exam was fixed.
My photoshoot didn’t happen that Friday as planned, life happened, but I held on to peace. Still, as the date approached, the doubts came back. “What if you don’t pass?” “What if this is another disappointment?” “What if… what if…?” Some days I would open my book to read and just break down in tears. I was afraid.
But my guardian angel, someone who stepped into my life at just the right time, kept encouraging me. They prayed with me, spoke life over me, reminded me that God was not finished. I’m also deeply grateful for my friends. Everyone was hands-on.
People supported me in every way they could, physically, spiritually, emotionally. And somehow, even through the fear, I had peace. I didn’t know how I knew, but I just knew it would end well.
Every night at 3 a.m., I worshipped. I prayed. I praised. And finally, exam day came. The written paper repeated everything I had studied. Then came the clinical exam, which was the long case. We had to clerk a patient, do a full examination, present to our examiners, and answer questions.
I was nervous. “What if I get a very complicated patient?” “What if I blank out?” But God pulled through again.
The patient I got had a simple, straightforward case. The nurses were kind and helpful, and the doctors on the ward were incredibly supportive, especially Dr. Amabara and Dr. Ohiarah. I’m deeply grateful to them.
When it was time to present, I said one quiet prayer. Lord, let me meet the examiner that is meant for me. And He did exactly that.
The process was smooth. Even when my voice trembled, peace followed me. I came out of the hall, still tense, still battling doubts. But at the same time, I was calm. I spoke to my guardian angel again and shared my fears and they said, “Don’t worry, I’m going to pray about it and by praying, I mean dancing about it, because it’s already a done deal.”
The joy and confidence in their voice steadied me, reminded me that in faith, I can wear a smile too.
Two days later, while at my photoshoot with Sammy, the shoot I had scheduled in faith, I got the result. My colleagues called, “Chioma, you passed!” I froze, screamed, cried, and danced. On June 4th, 2025, I stood as a Medical Doctor, a walking testimony.
When I wore my induction gown, I cried, not just because I made it, but because I remembered everything I’d gone through. I remembered the silent battles, the shame, the delays, the pain, the moments I almost gave up. God rewrote my script generously.
On June 4th, 2025, I was officially inducted as a Medical Doctor. But not just a doctor, a living, breathing, walking testimony.
Now I walk with my head high, not just as Dr. Chioma, but as proof that God answers prayers. I thank everyone who held my hands. I pray you never lack help when you need it. May your joy be full.
I hope my story reminds you that delay is not denial, and failure is not the end. Don’t give up. Hold your head high, and hold God tighter. He is not done with your story.
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