November 2015
It was one of those fresh days in the 2'second world'. The passion was burning. The love was huge. The desire was raging!
After my usual 9- 10am class, I rushed to the clothes rack and got my wardcoat. It was brand new, sparkling white like the teeth of a fairy godmother, ironed to the last fibre. You could see "passion" boldly engraved on every single strand, but if only you could look with your mind eye.
I gladly tucked everything I needed into the fitted pockets; steth, pen torch, etc....I put it on infront of the mirror, admiring myself and the man I was growing up to become. I had a little chit-chat with my 5 unit colleagues and they told me they'd join me later. So off I went.
Locating my 'unit' was a herculean task. I spent about half an hour moving from one ward to another until I was finally able to identify some strange faces forming a half-moon shape around an elderly patient and I eagerly traipsed ahead and joined them.....
A young man was reading something from a brown folder to an elderly fellow. The language was strange- totally strange. I can still remember every bit of that moment... I can remember the young man saying something like " I am presenting Mr"...and the older man interrupted with "How many times am I going to tell you, Baboon, that the right thing to say is, I present, not I am presenting"
It was along the line that I picked up that the older one was a Consultant while the other was just a House Officer.
When we where set to move to another patient, Daddy asked me:" Jack whatever, where are your colleagues". Ghen Ghen!...... I opened my mouth to say something but my tongue became prodigal. No word would come out. I fought a good fight of faith but in vain. If you looked at me then, you would have visualised a chicken about to be slaughtered and gasping for air- that was the picture.
He repeated the question about 2-3 times and then added, "They went to have their breakfast, isn't it?'
"Yes,"I replied, with my innocent mind. He simply nodded.
I never knew what I just buried myself into until my colleagues arrived.
"Come and stand here let me see your faces. This man here said that after lectures you people stubbornly refused to come early but went to fill your stomachs first. Is it true?"
Shock, fear, trembling and stale sweat clad the very substance of my being. He continued,"Let this be the first and the last time, next time you try that, I'll make sure I handle your VIVA myself. I guess you know what that means!"
I ached so much, to defend myself, to tell him; ''Sah please that's not what I said" but probably I wouldn't be alive writing this today. So with great sorrows in my heart, I allowed the rains to wash his words into my throat.
After rounds, as we walked back to the class block that day, the atmosphere was unusually calm. No jokes. No chatters about a purulent stuff someone moved. No yabbing.
In their mind, I was a Judas. I had betrayed them. Nobody needed to tell me, I knew my gist would spread faster than I could imagine.
None of them asked me. Nobody cared to hear my own side of the story. This is my story!
IN LIFE, THINGS ARE NOT ALWAYS THE WAY PEOPLE MAKE THEM APPEAR
Photos: pixabay.com