Bush Doctor in the City. Vol 16
Bush Doctor in the City. Vol 16.
The Bush Doctor had been most impressed with a TV programme he had watched over the weekend in the city. MTV cribs it was called. His morning ward round would have been ideal for the show he thought. There were four patients with Helminthic infections. Nasty Ascaris Lumbrcoides AKA Round worms making ‘cribs’ out of children’s bellies. Of all the names, Necator americanus was the best; must be a Tommy Hilfiger wearing worm he thought. ‘Where’s your mind?’ asked the Bush nurse.
‘On MTV diseases’ he replied.
‘I see the cerebral malaria is back’ she said.
The children all had ‘photogenic’ illnesses today. The types one saw in tropical medicine books. A child with Burkitt’s Lymphoma laid there crying with its mother. The right side of his jaw looked hideously deformed. Next to them was the yellowed eyes sickle cell anaemic boy in a crisis; had that characteristic protruding forehead and teeth. Next to them was the child with Measles. Koplick spots visible each time she cried. She also had a Pneumonia.
‘I am yet to see Subacute sclerosing panencephalitis’ he said with an air of authourity.
‘You say that every time you see measles’ replied the Bush Nurse.
‘I wish I had a camera’ he said.
‘What is going to happen to the child with the Burkitt’s Lymphoma?’ the Bush Nurse asked.
The Bush Doctor started to reply but the words never came. His mouth remained open in shock. The Bush Nurse followed his eyes. The Village thief was limping into the ward with a large tuber of yam under his right armpit. He left a trail of blood behind him. ‘Don’t let them kill me’ he gasped before collapsing in the middle of the ward. A few muffled screams were let out.
Patients and relatives all sat up. The Militia youths trooped in. They wore belts of bullets across their chests and some covered their half their faces with pieces of black cloth. Their leader held a sharp blood stained machete.
‘Come outside’ he beckoned to the Village thief.
‘If you don’t have respect for me or the work I do in this community, have respect for your elders!’ screamed the Bush Doctor pointing his stethoscope at the elderly patients in the corner as he spoke.
Their leader motioned for his group to go out.
‘Doctor, we will be outside. When you have finished treating him, we shall finish the job’.
During surgery on the Village thief the Bush nurse kept on about the child with the Burkitt’s Lymphoma. ‘Do you expect me to use my savings on the child? If the mother cannot afford the trip to the city then so be it’ snapped the Bush Doctor when it became unbearable.
During the afternoon rounds, inspiration hit. The mother of the child with the Lymphoma screamed and flung herself in the air landing heavily. The militia youths all came running in. It was a frightful sight; AK-47s, machetes and Rachot UK-68s machine guns in the hands of these young men who in another life would have been working in an office somewhere.
‘I am a widow. If this child dies, so do I’ she creamed rolling on the floor. The militia leader squeezed $300 into her hand.
The Bush Doctor was tempted to dive on the floor and scream, ‘USMLE or I die!’ but somehow his pride got the better of him.
2-7-07. 3pm
Driving on the M42 in heavy rain. Frightening. England is under siege both from terrorists and the weather. The papers are saying that Doctors are involved in the terrorist acts. We await developments.
Arrive at private clinic. Nice staff. Did an insurance medical which too about fifteen minutes. Mainly ticking boxes and a brief medical examination.
Signed a few forms and that was it. Four hours work.
Good thing I brought my Oxford Handbook of General Practice. For some reason, I keep getting drawn to the Pyschiatric sections.
Read about Generalised anxiety disorders. Interesting were the clinical features
-Psychological – fearful anticipation , sensitivity to noise, insomnia (reminded me of my last holiday in Lagos when the local mosque with the very loud speakers started ‘public prayers’ at 5am.
Physical – Dry mouth, headache, sweating, difficulty breathing (still reminds me of the same holiday. This was when the power failure occurred).
At one stage I was tempted to extract yesterdays newspaper from the bin but my pride got the better of me.
Was this easy work? Reading and taking notes for four hours none stop. I am not sure.
Leave a Reply