BUSH DOCTOR IN THE CITY. Vol 8.
(Nightmare in the Jungle).
Every Bush Doctor knows this one thing. As sure as the moon will turn up at night and the sun will rise in the morning, so will nightmares come. Medical nightmares that haunt you till you are long retired. Tonight is one such night. Read on.
They were on the sixth keg of palm wine when they heard the rustle in the bushes. Though somewhat intoxicated, the Bush Doctor knew he had an emergency on his hands.
The hospital was empty. The local witch Doctor was having a sale. ALL STOCKS MUST GO. TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE. BUY ONE JUJU AND GET THREE FREE.
The patients knew a bargain when they saw one. There was absolutely nothing to do. That is until now.
A man and three helpers carried a comatose woman in her late thirties and dropped her at the Bush Doctor’s feet.
‘Help. Do something!’ the husband said without introducing himself. There was no need. The patient’s pale skin and bulging abdomen spoke clearer than an African coup plotter’s maiden broadcast.
‘A ruptured ectopic pregnancy. Too late though. She will die’ said the Bush Doctor.
His four drinking companions became sombre.
‘A diagnosis and prognosis with only one look. This palm wine must be strong’ said Mumu the farmer.
The husband collapsed on the ground crying. It was 8 o clock and already the Jungle choir of crickets had started to clear their collective throats. The Bush Doctor was in no mood to operate. His Bush nurse had been out all day visiting her oyinbo oil worker boy friend. He wasn’t in the mood for doing a post mortem tonight.
Mugun spoke up. ‘Doctor, try for the man. At least hear him out’
The Bush Doctor didn’t know where to start. Without his Bush nurse he was useless. She was the voice of kindness here. She had the heart and compassion. She loved the people. All he had was knowledge and dedication. No tact and no compassion.
And more importantly he didn’t know where the bush Nurse had kept the Emmergency AutoTransfusion set. Without a blood transfusion it was no use operating.
He was sure of the diagnosis. He worked to a very simple and strict rule. The Jungle medicine rule.
All women were pregnant and had SLE. If they fainted they had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. All men were trying hard to get someone pregnant. All inhabitants of the jungle had Malaria and were HIV positive. All those above 50 years of age had an undiagnosed cancer and were both Diabetic and Hypertensive. And finally all children and adults above 70 years of age will be dying shortly.
The husband spoke up. ‘She had been having shoulder and tummy pains. Got weaker over three days. We travelled 2 miles by canoe to get here and while in the canoe she screamed and her belly came up. She has been unconscious ever since’.
He broke down crying. The three people who came with him joined. Mumu and Mugun joined in.
‘So you want me to do a post mortem?’ asked the Bush Doctor.
The crying became louder. Everyone looked at the Bush Doctor hoping for some miracle.
‘OK, we will operate’ he said. The husband knelt down and hugged the Bush Doctor’s legs in thanks.
Mugun and Mumu carried her straight into theatre; for that was what they called the bamboo table in one of the big rooms. The Bush Doctor lit a fire and began to boil some surgical instruments.
There was no fuel for the electricity generator so the helpers all held up torch lights as the Bush Doctor cleaned the abdomen with iodine and then began to infiltrate the skin down the midline with local anaesthetic.
The Bush Nurse came running in.
‘Never been so glad to see you!’ exclaimed the Bush Doctor. ‘And how is your lover?’
‘The swine. Asked me to sleep with his dog while he filmed the action. Said he would pay $300’.
‘Did you?’ asked Mumu.
‘What kind of girl do you take me for. Of course I took the money before breaking a beer bottle on his head. Insult!’ she sucked her teeth as she spoke.
‘This one might survive, now you are here that is’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘Ruptured ectopic?’ asked the Bush nurse as she slipped on her gloves.
‘Are you people using juju? How do you know the diagnosis?’ asked Mugun.
In seconds the instruments were laid out on the trolley and they were ready to go.
The Bush Nurse had put in an intravenous cannulae and had drawn up the Ketamine and Diazepam.
‘Give her 50 milligrams Ketamine, 10milligrams at a time’ said the Bush Doctor as he made his incision into the skin from just below the belly button all the way to the pubic bone.
Mugun fainted.
‘Let another man take his torch. I cannot see’ screamed the Bush Doctor.
The Bush Nurse ran round to stand opposite the Bush Doctor. ‘You ready to eat my dear?’ asked the Doctor.
‘When ever food is ready darling’ she replied.
‘You people are wizzards o! You are joking over someone’s open belle. Una no dey fear’ said Mumu.
The Bush Doctor made the decisive incision and there was blood everywhere. The Bush Nurse was ready. She just kept on going with her Emergency Auto Transfuion Set . She siphoned every last drop of blood into three bags which would be re transfused back into the patient.
Mugun vomited on the floor and the room acquired the smell of stale palm wine.
‘Where I dey?’ he mumbled.
‘Salpingectomy done, now I can stitch up’ announced the Bush Doctor.
Mugun was now back on his feet.
‘Get out of my theatre you drunk’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘You call this a theatre? And what film are you showing eh?’ replied Mugun staggering towards the door.
‘Horror’ replied the Bush Doctor.
The husband who had stood in the corner pointing a torch light to his wife’s head spoke for the first time.
‘Nurse, watch did the good Doctor cut out?’
‘There was a pregnancy growing in her tube. It burst and she was leaking blood. The pickin wan kill im mama but God no go gree’ said the Bush Nurse.
‘Amen o. She go fit born again?’ he asked.
‘How many children you get?’ asked the nurse.
‘Five’ he replied.
‘You dey craze! You really want to kill this woman. As soon as I finish this stitching Mumu will hold you down on this table while I do your Vasectomy. Nonsense. Bush Nurse, oya, return to sender. Transfuse the blood back in’.
The police arrived 5 minutes later. They stood at the door of the theatre.
‘We have come to arrest your nurse; assault and battery’
‘Assault of who?’ asked the Bush Doctor.
‘An Oyinbo oil worker. He sustained a scalp laceration following a blow to the head 3 hours ago’ said the Chief constable
‘Wrong person. My Nurse has been assisting me in theatre for 8 straight hours’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘Our mistake sir’ said the Chief constable.
To everyone’s surprise the patient was talking 2 hours after the operation.
‘I am Queen Amina of Zaria. Before that I lived as the Queen of Sheeba’ she said.
‘She dey craze?’ asked her frightened husband.
‘No, it’s the Ketamine making her confused. The medicine wey I take do am operation. She will be alright’ said the Bush Doctor.
They were all soon outside drinking palm wine and laughing about the events of the day.
‘My darling nurse. Did you say it was $300?’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘Ehen?’
‘You know I am a surgeon.’
‘So?’
‘Ahhh, all surgeons must have their cut o’ said the Bush Doctor.
But not so for the BUSH DOCTOR IN THE CITY. He had an easy day today.
12-3-07. AN. 23 year old man. Too much stress. Dog died. Neighbour’s music too loud. Father died 15 years ago and not gotten over it. Needs a sick certificate for 4 weeks.
SN. 22 year old lady. Last sick note ran out.
‘What was written on last one?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. Check you computer’
‘But you are the one too ill to work. Surely you must know which illness prevents you from working.’
‘OK, I have back ache, Hay fever, IBS, Knee pains and don’t you tell me its my weight. That’s all I get from you Doctors. Its my weight this, my weight that. I have a slow metabolism. Actually, now that I am here, do you know about Leptin resistance? I read about it on the internet and I think that is what I suffer from’ she says.
‘That will not prevent you from doing a job’ I said and regretted the utterance instantly.
‘Easy for you to say. You have never been fat. I see you in the local papers, running marathons, climbing mountains. I bet you don’t smoke’
‘I don’t’
‘See, and you judge me. As soon as I work in, do you smoke this, do you smoke that. You think it is easy to just stop like that?’ she rants.
‘Please may I remind you that I am actually meeting you for the first time.’ I say.
‘Well your colleagues, well you are all the same’
I see the last entry in the computer was General Debility (what ever that means). I gave her 6 months off and tell her that for purposes of continuity of medical care she sticks to seeing only one caring medical professional. My colleague! Anything for a bit of peace and quiet!
(Nightmare in the Jungle).
Every Bush Doctor knows this one thing. As sure as the moon will turn up at night and the sun will rise in the morning, so will nightmares come. Medical nightmares that haunt you till you are long retired. Tonight is one such night. Read on.
They were on the sixth keg of palm wine when they heard the rustle in the bushes. Though somewhat intoxicated, the Bush Doctor knew he had an emergency on his hands.
The hospital was empty. The local witch Doctor was having a sale. ALL STOCKS MUST GO. TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE. BUY ONE JUJU AND GET THREE FREE.
The patients knew a bargain when they saw one. There was absolutely nothing to do. That is until now.
A man and three helpers carried a comatose woman in her late thirties and dropped her at the Bush Doctor’s feet.
‘Help. Do something!’ the husband said without introducing himself. There was no need. The patient’s pale skin and bulging abdomen spoke clearer than an African coup plotter’s maiden broadcast.
‘A ruptured ectopic pregnancy. Too late though. She will die’ said the Bush Doctor.
His four drinking companions became sombre.
‘A diagnosis and prognosis with only one look. This palm wine must be strong’ said Mumu the farmer.
The husband collapsed on the ground crying. It was 8 o clock and already the Jungle choir of crickets had started to clear their collective throats. The Bush Doctor was in no mood to operate. His Bush nurse had been out all day visiting her oyinbo oil worker boy friend. He wasn’t in the mood for doing a post mortem tonight.
Mugun spoke up. ‘Doctor, try for the man. At least hear him out’
The Bush Doctor didn’t know where to start. Without his Bush nurse he was useless. She was the voice of kindness here. She had the heart and compassion. She loved the people. All he had was knowledge and dedication. No tact and no compassion.
And more importantly he didn’t know where the bush Nurse had kept the Emmergency AutoTransfusion set. Without a blood transfusion it was no use operating.
He was sure of the diagnosis. He worked to a very simple and strict rule. The Jungle medicine rule.
All women were pregnant and had SLE. If they fainted they had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. All men were trying hard to get someone pregnant. All inhabitants of the jungle had Malaria and were HIV positive. All those above 50 years of age had an undiagnosed cancer and were both Diabetic and Hypertensive. And finally all children and adults above 70 years of age will be dying shortly.
The husband spoke up. ‘She had been having shoulder and tummy pains. Got weaker over three days. We travelled 2 miles by canoe to get here and while in the canoe she screamed and her belly came up. She has been unconscious ever since’.
He broke down crying. The three people who came with him joined. Mumu and Mugun joined in.
‘So you want me to do a post mortem?’ asked the Bush Doctor.
The crying became louder. Everyone looked at the Bush Doctor hoping for some miracle.
‘OK, we will operate’ he said. The husband knelt down and hugged the Bush Doctor’s legs in thanks.
Mugun and Mumu carried her straight into theatre; for that was what they called the bamboo table in one of the big rooms. The Bush Doctor lit a fire and began to boil some surgical instruments.
There was no fuel for the electricity generator so the helpers all held up torch lights as the Bush Doctor cleaned the abdomen with iodine and then began to infiltrate the skin down the midline with local anaesthetic.
The Bush Nurse came running in.
‘Never been so glad to see you!’ exclaimed the Bush Doctor. ‘And how is your lover?’
‘The swine. Asked me to sleep with his dog while he filmed the action. Said he would pay $300’.
‘Did you?’ asked Mumu.
‘What kind of girl do you take me for. Of course I took the money before breaking a beer bottle on his head. Insult!’ she sucked her teeth as she spoke.
‘This one might survive, now you are here that is’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘Ruptured ectopic?’ asked the Bush nurse as she slipped on her gloves.
‘Are you people using juju? How do you know the diagnosis?’ asked Mugun.
In seconds the instruments were laid out on the trolley and they were ready to go.
The Bush Nurse had put in an intravenous cannulae and had drawn up the Ketamine and Diazepam.
‘Give her 50 milligrams Ketamine, 10milligrams at a time’ said the Bush Doctor as he made his incision into the skin from just below the belly button all the way to the pubic bone.
Mugun fainted.
‘Let another man take his torch. I cannot see’ screamed the Bush Doctor.
The Bush Nurse ran round to stand opposite the Bush Doctor. ‘You ready to eat my dear?’ asked the Doctor.
‘When ever food is ready darling’ she replied.
‘You people are wizzards o! You are joking over someone’s open belle. Una no dey fear’ said Mumu.
The Bush Doctor made the decisive incision and there was blood everywhere. The Bush Nurse was ready. She just kept on going with her Emergency Auto Transfuion Set . She siphoned every last drop of blood into three bags which would be re transfused back into the patient.
Mugun vomited on the floor and the room acquired the smell of stale palm wine.
‘Where I dey?’ he mumbled.
‘Salpingectomy done, now I can stitch up’ announced the Bush Doctor.
Mugun was now back on his feet.
‘Get out of my theatre you drunk’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘You call this a theatre? And what film are you showing eh?’ replied Mugun staggering towards the door.
‘Horror’ replied the Bush Doctor.
The husband who had stood in the corner pointing a torch light to his wife’s head spoke for the first time.
‘Nurse, watch did the good Doctor cut out?’
‘There was a pregnancy growing in her tube. It burst and she was leaking blood. The pickin wan kill im mama but God no go gree’ said the Bush Nurse.
‘Amen o. She go fit born again?’ he asked.
‘How many children you get?’ asked the nurse.
‘Five’ he replied.
‘You dey craze! You really want to kill this woman. As soon as I finish this stitching Mumu will hold you down on this table while I do your Vasectomy. Nonsense. Bush Nurse, oya, return to sender. Transfuse the blood back in’.
The police arrived 5 minutes later. They stood at the door of the theatre.
‘We have come to arrest your nurse; assault and battery’
‘Assault of who?’ asked the Bush Doctor.
‘An Oyinbo oil worker. He sustained a scalp laceration following a blow to the head 3 hours ago’ said the Chief constable
‘Wrong person. My Nurse has been assisting me in theatre for 8 straight hours’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘Our mistake sir’ said the Chief constable.
To everyone’s surprise the patient was talking 2 hours after the operation.
‘I am Queen Amina of Zaria. Before that I lived as the Queen of Sheeba’ she said.
‘She dey craze?’ asked her frightened husband.
‘No, it’s the Ketamine making her confused. The medicine wey I take do am operation. She will be alright’ said the Bush Doctor.
They were all soon outside drinking palm wine and laughing about the events of the day.
‘My darling nurse. Did you say it was $300?’ said the Bush Doctor.
‘Ehen?’
‘You know I am a surgeon.’
‘So?’
‘Ahhh, all surgeons must have their cut o’ said the Bush Doctor.
But not so for the BUSH DOCTOR IN THE CITY. He had an easy day today.
12-3-07. AN. 23 year old man. Too much stress. Dog died. Neighbour’s music too loud. Father died 15 years ago and not gotten over it. Needs a sick certificate for 4 weeks.
SN. 22 year old lady. Last sick note ran out.
‘What was written on last one?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. Check you computer’
‘But you are the one too ill to work. Surely you must know which illness prevents you from working.’
‘OK, I have back ache, Hay fever, IBS, Knee pains and don’t you tell me its my weight. That’s all I get from you Doctors. Its my weight this, my weight that. I have a slow metabolism. Actually, now that I am here, do you know about Leptin resistance? I read about it on the internet and I think that is what I suffer from’ she says.
‘That will not prevent you from doing a job’ I said and regretted the utterance instantly.
‘Easy for you to say. You have never been fat. I see you in the local papers, running marathons, climbing mountains. I bet you don’t smoke’
‘I don’t’
‘See, and you judge me. As soon as I work in, do you smoke this, do you smoke that. You think it is easy to just stop like that?’ she rants.
‘Please may I remind you that I am actually meeting you for the first time.’ I say.
‘Well your colleagues, well you are all the same’
I see the last entry in the computer was General Debility (what ever that means). I gave her 6 months off and tell her that for purposes of continuity of medical care she sticks to seeing only one caring medical professional. My colleague! Anything for a bit of peace and quiet!
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