₦airaland Forum

ADOPTED

“Next patient,” I yelled out as I stretched my cramped legs under the table to get some relief. I had seen quite a number of patients today and was beginning to get tired.


A middle aged woman in an attractive English-styled native attire walked in carrying a beautiful light skinned baby girl in her bosom. A cloud of expensive perfume followed her and in an instant my stuffy room was transformed into the sweet smelling nectar of spring. I sighed deeply, pleased already by this stranger who was about to pour out all her troubles to me. In as much as we are trained as doctors to ignore smells, mode of dressing and language issues of patients, it doesn’t hurt at all as a patient to appear in your very best. I guessed her age at late 30s, early 40s and even though the passage of time was etched in secret places on her pleasant face, it was obvious she was taking very good care of herself.


“What can I do for you ma’m?” I asked genially.


She smiled a little shyly and gestured at the infant who was looking up at us with wide and curious eyes.


“She has been vomiting and passing watery stool since yesterday.”


“Ah, already?” I frowned, “Aren’t you doing exclusive breast feeding?”


“Er, no.” she replied, looking a bit guilty.


“That’s the problem right there!” I began. “If you were breastfeeding this baby exclusively, she wouldn’t be exposed to germs from the water you use and she wouldn’t be having diarrhea now…”


She interrupted me abruptly, “Doctor, she’s not my child.”


I froze. It was like someone pressed the pause button on me. All my gesticulations, the mock frown on my face, the words that were still tumbling out of my mouth, everything came to a standstill.


“ She’s not your child?” I echoed like they do in those nollywood movies I like so much.


“She’s not my child.” The woman repeated with a gentle laugh. “I adopted her from the abandoned baby’s home near the market. Isn’t she lovely?”


“Yes she is, I mean she even resembles you!”I replied, still amazed that she could open up to me like this. It had crossed my mind that she was a bit matured to be having a child but it wasn’t such an uncommon occurrence so I had shelved the thought. Most ladies would hide the fact that they had adopted a child even though we had a tendency to find out sooner or later. Not this woman. She looked at the babe with such tenderness and love in her eyes that I found myself smiling sheepishly.


“I would like to run a full health check on her, doctor.” she continued. “We are travelling to Lagos before the election then from there I’m taking her to the United States…”


“You’ll need a visa for the baby you know,” I replied, to which she happily pulled out some documents for me from her handbag. Her joy was infectious.


“My husband works in immigrations and has a few contacts so it was relatively easy.”


I studied the documents. They were all legit.


“So…you have no kids of your own then?” I asked quietly. “I hope I’m not prying too much…”


“It’s okay doc,” she smiled and took a moment to tear her gaze away from the baby long enough to answer me. “I married late and then found out I couldn’t conceive. The gynaecologist said I have blocked tubes. While trying to work on that my menses came. We decided it would be best to adopt.”


“Oh, I see.” I replied a little awkwardly, but she laughed and turned back to the baby.


“Just think, someone didn’t want this bundle of joy and I’ve been looking for one all these years…she’s mine doc, all mine!”


I smiled as I looked upon her happy face. She was gazing at the child adoringly while the little baby simply gazed upwards and gurgled back in return. I soliloquized within myself as I stared curiously through the acquisition documents and began writing some laboratory tests and drug prescriptions; here was a baby whose destiny seemed uncertain at first, but who had by that same chance of fate had a silver spoon thrust into her mouth where not even a wooden one was before. Where nature’s biological mother had abandoned her, fate had provided her with someone who worshipped, adored and cherished her for everything she was and everything she was going to be.




The sky would be her limit.

firestar:
Jiraiya the Third.

.....

Meanwhile....
Crystal piece.

You just made the medical profession as delectable as mine. Blood, guts, nausea...
Loved all of it.

Centje! Come o! Rovyer can make blood seem like ketchup, guts as assorted candied peel and vomit as my favourite bowl of oats!



[ Eats a sandwich and wonders what it resembles...]

Ewwwwww

LarrySun:
It's been a while, sir.

oi larry, how you been?

theorbiters:
Cc.
Jennimma (our very own, the Incumbent Miss Nairaland)
Royver (our doctor that loves so much blood)
Stuff46 ( a fellow pen comrade)

You need to check this story.

larrysun's protege
Interesting piece

#following

rapmike:
Wow, is that it? That is so wonderful that I can't find the word to describe it.


Errm, Royver can you mentor me, please? Abeg, ejo, please. But at least help me give your comments and criticism on my ongoing story: Tade- the rise of an activist.

ok send me the link lemme have a look

adonisgold:
Oh, so this is the popular Royver? Nice story, I saw a thread someone was praising you literary prowess now I understand. You mixed up the gloves scene sha, he had already taken off his gloves to address the lady which is why the lady accuses him of suturing with gloves and wouldn't let him put it back on, but later on Dr. Idowu tells him to take off his gloves.

Thanks, there was no mixup, took off a glove from the left hand to address the lady, lady insisted i sutured without gloves, tried to put the gloves back on, lady refused. I use the plural 'gloves' because we wear two gloves on each hand for protection, it is called 'double-gloving'. Dr idowu comes in and tells me to take off the other gloves (for a doc that means the work is over) and come with him.

Thanks folks. Its good to be back

Nelly21:
I always love your stories and this one is no exception

thanks dear

SexySapphire:
If it isn't Royver, who else could it be? I'm guessing you're the one in the story and if you love blood and gore this much, why haven't you written something horror? Anyway, welcome back and thanks for saving lives passionately.

thank you miss
horror? hmn, I'm no longer a fan of horror stories o, long story.

Sugarbabekemi:
Ure really one of a kind!! Seeing ur moniker gives me dis happy feeling of readin something interesting, kudos!!!

aw, thanks dearie.

lenmafon:
nice one coming from the boss himself @ royver gud to see u again sire, pls afta seeing blood and sewing up wounds do u still eat red meat? well gud to know u find satisfaction in what u do. how's work?

I even eat eba and egusi soup sef, talk less of red meat

Jennimma:
It could only be Royver.


Very funny tho.

You love A&R? Wow!!!

I don't know why but blood and gore excites me...are you scared?

SagePerv:
[color=maroon]It's Roooooyver!

Definitely following.
I need an inspiration to start writing again.[/color]

Pervy sage

“He’s a very nice man,” Dr Sarah smiled at me. ‘Honestly, he is the guardian angel in the group.

‘He behaves more like the devil if you ask me.’ I said grumpily. I had just been assigned to Dr Idowu’s group in surgery department from Accident and Emergency and I wasn’t enjoying it one bit. I was a medical officer just employed in the government hospital at Warri and the place was always busy. It seemed every morning the inhabitants of the town woke up from a good night’s sleep and decided to engage in all sorts of harmful activities which ensured we had a good share of Accident and Emergency cases coming into the department every single day.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love my work. I love the blood and gore, the smell of blood and vomit and sight of lacerations, bottle cuts and open wounds. No, I’m not being sarcastic. I love the chaos because I can turn the chaos to order. The trip I get from bringing relief to pained, poisoned and confused individuals is like a chemical high to me. Stitching up a gaping wound back to near perfection, reviving a collapsed individual as if raising him from the dead, straightening dislocations and realigning broken bones…these things give me a mental trip that cocaine would be hard pressed to improve on.

I love Accident and Emergency.

The one thing I have issues with however is protocol.

And Dr Idowu is synonymous with protocol.

“Has the Casualty officer clerked that patient?”

“Yes Sir.”

Has the House officer clerked the patient?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Has the Medical Officer clerked the patient?”

“No Sir”.

“Then the patient has not been clerked.”

I despised this man’s protocol so much. And he stuck to it like clockwork. He would come in to see a patient and her ribs would be sticking out everywhere and she would be screaming like a banshee and this doctor would walk over her casually with a “She’s not my patient yet, ensure the casualty doctor sees her” huff. He would come for Ward round to see a wound that had been properly cleaned and painstakingly dressed by the nurses and doctors for over an hour and insist we reopen it again so he could personally have a look. Our groaning and snarling meant little to him and he would wait patiently until we were through with our threats of rebellion and then repeat his demand. Of course, being a Senior Medical Officer we had to oblige or face the music. So we would open the wound again and he would put on his headmaster glasses and peer at the wound as if looking through a microscope. He would humph and poke and ask questions…and then tell us to dress the wound that he was finished. This would take another hour of cleaning and swearing.

Frankly, I was only bothered when I happened to come across his team. Being in Accident and Emergency, I only bumped into him on occasion. It was a minor irritant to me, a small squeak in my well oiled mechanism of the day’s work. And I was happy to keep it that way. But it was not meant to be that way forever.

One day I received a letter from the administration stating that I had been assigned to the Surgery department for six months. It was an internal rotation thing and they wanted all doctors to get a feel of the new surgery department. I happily obliged, not minding the change of scenery. Surgery was just like Accident and Emergency, only that the surgical cases were more controlled. I remained happy until I went to the notice desk to check who I was under.

Dr Idowu.

My happy thoughts deflated immediately. Oh no no no no no!

For the next one month Dr Idowu took me along with his team to see the patients on the ward. He did this twice a day, everyday, regardless of their status; even the ones we well knew were doing absolutely nothing and waiting for their discharge. It was terrible. I had to spend four hours a day away from my precious blood and gore. When finally we went to the Accident and Emergency to review surgical cases, he wouldn’t let us touch the patients until all protocols had been duly observed.

He haggled me when I grabbed a suture, harassed me when I dressed a wound before he arrived, harangued me when I asked to see the charts of a diabetic patient that wasn’t one of ours. As far as I was concerned he made my stay in his unit a living hell.

His two subordinates, Dr Sarah and Dr Eric would laugh at my secret ranting and rebellious ideas. They didn’t share the same sentiments as I did. As far as they were concerned, Dr Idowu was an Angel and I was lucky to be in his unit. I personally thought they were suffering from Stockholm syndrome; you know, when you become so terrified of your tormentor that you fall in love with him. I impatiently counted the days when my posting would be over and I could return to the sweet smell of grime and grossness in the A&E once again.



One day we were in the ward doing our double rounds when I heard the sound of sirens blaring into the hospital. I looked out the window and saw an ambulance bringing in what looked like accident victims and heading straight for A&E. I licked my lips hungrily. Right there in those ambulances was chaos looking for order, disharmony looking for harmony, patients needing to be saved! I fiddled with my wardcoat and looked around, DR Idowu was discussing with the nurse who was looking like she was going to pop a vein from anger. He was talking slowly and deliberately and making sure the younger doctors wrote down everything he said. It looked like he was going to be here for a very long time…

I edged my way to the door and slipped out. My heart began to beat fast as I walked quickly down the hall out of the ward and then broke into a run towards the A&E department. With any luck it would be a mass casualty involving most of the doctors and I wouldn’t get into much trouble for this. I felt like superman as I pulled off my Ward coat while running and jumped into A&E.

There was blood everywhere. Two commercial motorcycle riders and their passengers had collided at top speed on the highway. One of the passengers had his left femur sticking out.

“Scrubs!” I shouted at the Nurse who recognized me and willingly obliged. In moments I had been wrapped in protective gear and swung into action.

Two hours later I was sweating and my scrubs were soaked in blood and vomit but I was feeling fulfilled and happy. I hadn’t had that much fun since…well since I entered surgery department. The medical officer on duty had already called for the surgical team and I braced myself to face the music when I realized it was Dr Idowu’s team that were coming to review.

Strangely enough it was a different sort of music I was to face that day.

The door of The A&E suddenly burst open and an important looking woman charged in. Behind her was an entourage of three soldiers with guns. She came in and went straight to the nurse’s bay.

“Is Mr. Edmund here? I want to see Mr. Edmund! Was he involved in the crash? How bad is he?!” She talked like she was high on drugs or maybe she was panicking.

The Nurse approached cautiously. She looked like a government official and government officials had a way of putting people in trouble even when there was nothing wrong.

“Madam, we don’t know of any Edmund. Perhaps if you take your seat…”

“Edmund! Edmund!!” She shouted, making her way into the private area. The nurse went after her.

“Madam, you cannot go there, that area is restrict…”

“Oh shut up and sit down!” she commanded to the nurse who immediately went back to her seat. “Edmund!” she screamed.

And there, right below me, the patient I had been suturing for a laceration on his face moaned. He tried sitting up from a lying position and called out feebly.

“Sister, I am here.”

“Ah, Edmund, my Edmund…” She rushed to hug him. It was like a bad nollywood movie, the way they carried on. I waited patiently until they had finished their pleasantries then politely asked the woman to leave while I finish.

“Leave kwa? I am not going anywhere! Who are you? I hope you are not one of those fake doctors!”

I looked around to see if truly this woman was addressing me. Apparently she was. I took the surgical gloves on my left hand off and pulled the mask from my face so I could talk more clearly.

“Madam, I am still attending to your person and this is our private area. Why don’t you go and seat at the visitor’s lounge? “

“Never!” She shouted and the soldiers behind her edged forward. “Who are you? What is your rank? Are you supposed to be here? Are you qualified to do this? What have you done to his face? Are you suturing without your gloves on?”

The questions came like bullets out of a machine gun. She pointed at my ungloved hand like she wasn’t there when I removed it. I just gawked at her, shocked. How could someone behave so irrationally especially after I had just helped her brother? I tried to calm her but it was no use, she wanted somebody’s head to roll for the accident and pains her brother had gone through and mine was the closest. Before I could say “Jack” she had called the Medical Director on her phone and was screaming expletives at him.

I tried putting my gloves back on but the woman bluntly refused and none of the other staff were bold enough to enter the fray. I was about wondering what to do next when I saw Dr Idowu by the door.

He stood there for a moment like a headmaster who had finally cornered a recalcitrant pupil and bored his gaze into me. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. I was in soup. He would probably leave me to my folly…

Dr Idowu marched forward and walked through the two soldiers like they were not even there.

“Doctor, take you gloves off and come with me.” He said simply, his voice crystal clear amid the shouts and screams of the madam. She stopped short and glanced at him venomously.

“And who are you…?” she began.

“The doctor who was previously in charge of your patient. I say previously because right now I am relinquishing all responsibility of your patient due to your appalling attitude. This here is my subordinate and he answers only to me. Since you are on the phone with the MD you can tell him Dr Idowu has rejected the patient so he can find a replacement for you. Thank you. Doctor…” He addressed me once again, ‘Let’s go.”

I gratefully pulled off my gloves, dropped everything I was doing, and followed him. The Woman looked like she was going to burst. She screamed at her guards but there was an air around Dr Idowu I hadn’t noticed before, and air of authority that was unquestionable, unshakable. The guards hesitated and the woman turned her attention back to Dr Idowu who was even then going to see another patient.

“Ah. Doctor, attend to my Edmund first now…” The woman said, her voice suddenly filled with panic and dread. He ignored her and stoically went on with the review of the patient whose femur had been dislocated. She turned her attention back to her phone and her tone was now contrite and pleading. She turned back to Dr Idowu.

“Your Oga wants to talk to you.” She said.

“You tell him I will under no circumstance see your patient unless you leave this premises immediately. You do not walk into my office and start threatening my subordinates, someone I sent as a matter of urgency to do work on my behalf. That is totally unbecoming of you especially for a woman of your position. Now leave this place immediately or I assure you…”

He didn’t have to finish. The woman was already apologizing and beating a hasty retreat. Her three bodyguards went along with her and soon they were seated in their air conditioned cars outside, waiting for Dr Idowu’s verdict.

“Thank you sir.” I said sheepishly. I realized Dr Idowu had saved me from a lot of problems just now, I was not even the medical officer on duty today. I gazed at my feet in shame as I realized he had put his neck on the line to save me.

“Has the patient been clerked by the house officer?” He asked.

“No Sir.” I replied.

“Make sure the house officer clerks the patient, then you take a history and call the casualty doctor to take a history as well. If anybody harasses you again, tell them I sent you.” And then he walked out with his two subordinate doctors following faithfully behind.

It’s been a long time since then and I have risen well in rank myself but I still remember how that doctor stood up for me when I was in a spot and even today when the new doctors come into his unit and groan at his methods, I join his faithful in telling them:

“Oh, he’s a very nice man. He is the guardian of the group.”