The year was 2021, and I made a carefree decision to commence residency training in obstetrics and gynecology. I had a pretty comfortable life as a general practitioner in the Shonga community, where I was the medical director and overall boss of the hospital. Life was easy, and I had ample time to spare. The residency training I indicated interest in, however, required me to be transferred from the rural area where I practiced to the urban area. I was mostly indifferent rather than optimistic about the training I was to commence.
The first few weeks of resumption at the new facility were totally different from the life and practice I was used to. Here, my position was just a step ahead of that of the most junior doctor. I worked around the clock in a toxic environment where I was either scolded for errors I committed or asked questions I could not answer. I began to have a rethink, probably a blame trade, about why I relinquished my throne to become a subject who hastily became a shadow of himself. Yes, I lost 4 kg within three months, and at resumption, I worked for three consecutive weeks within the hospital, Monday to Sunday morning.
Gradually, the indifference reverted to desperation to leave the job through any available means. Despite this, I dedicated myself to the work and ensured my conscience was at peace. It was not unusual to supervise or take about 11 to 15 deliveries overnight, which excluded the frequent caesarian sections I took part in. My mom didn't like the ribs that shamelessly poked underneath my skin.
On a fateful night, sometimes about 2 a.m., the hospital was quiet except for the labor room and perhaps the emergency section of the hospital. We had a difficult delivery where the newborn came out blue. Like I said from the beginning, the equipment is scarcely available, even in the face of limited personnel. My team consisted mainly of nurses and hospital attendants. We quickly applied the basic life supports you can see in a typical African hospital, which ranged from suction of the baby's nostrils and mouths to spanking of the buttocks to initiate the first cry. When the results expected were not forthcoming, I rushed the baby myself to the special care baby unit (SCBU).
The first resistance I encountered from the nurse I met on duty was that there was no bed space unless I was going to place the child in the only available observation space, which I was obliged to do immediately. The child was yet to turn pink, and thus, I continued to apply the basic massage and warmth methods to the newborn, hoping the doctor in charge would be called in. I was disgusted by the nurse's nonchalant attitude, which clearly showed she was unwilling to admit new patients or work at such an hour.
After about 30 minutes of waiting without any sight or hope of the doctor showing up, I handed over the baby to the nurse and returned to my duty post as other pregnant women were in labor and needed my attention. Just a few minutes before 3 a.m., when I was exhausted from work stress, a lady doctor (I had only encountered from a distance)of obviously intimidating size walked up to me and accused me of not writing a proper referral for the child I supposedly left in the care of the nurse at SCBU. As much as I wanted to respond to her further ranting on job ethics and co., I absorbed all she said with a silent response, as though it were water off the duck's back.
"The fact that I brought the baby myself is enough referral in a case of an emergency." I managed to say, which the lady doctor yet again countered. Quarrelling or fighting is a weak point of mine, and I'd rather just let matters slide. I ignored her and continued my work. She left almost immediately.
"Dr. Musa, how come you didn't react to her when a fellow doctor talked to you like this, especially in the presence of the nurses and hospital attendants? You're too gentle for my liking. If it were me, I would have given her her size immediately." The lady nurse working with me said this just after the lady doctor left.
I let out a small chuckle and said, "At 3 a.m., when I am exhausted, should I pick a fight with a colleague who wouldn't see reason? Please, let's continue with our work." I knew they were not happy with how I handled the situation, but I cared less. I was pained to see the father of the newborn run shelter skelter as the last doctor and nurse at the SCBU poured their frustrations on him over issues that were insignificant. Thankfully, by daybreak, the child was hale and hearty.
Barely two months later, I got a better offer for a job and left immediately. Yet, the personnel within the hospital are limited, and thus, I was occasionally engaged on locum to cover shifts for doctors. The same lady doctor that had harassed me that night equally needed a locum cover desperately as she was on rotation at the labor room as an outside posting. She had, and when she reached out to me unapologetically, I took the offer at the usual cost and did the job without bias. She appreciated me afterwards, and yet again, I lived life like I had no bruises.