A MUST READ FOR MEDICAL STUDENTS AND ASPIRANTS:THE WORLD OF CLINICAL WARDS(A Narration by Agubama Fimbar Francis)
The peculiar smell of disinfectant was very familiar. It impelled me to spontaneous reminiscences that enlivened my mental clime,
citing me to jittery memories of my childhood dread of being here. And with the little I could recollect coupled with the tales my mom usually
tells of my adamant obstinacy those times; I abhorred the prickle of a needle on my precious skin, always protesting although to a downright
futility. Even to this day, the odour of drugs always irked me to worrisome nauseation and the sensation of tablets passing down my oesophagus
aggravated the resentment. Isn't it therefore rather surprising and somewhat ironical that the then
"hospito-phobic" fellow now trains to become a practising professional who would prickle the skins of others with needles and make prescriptions to a drug-swallowing effect?
.
It was a beautiful Monday morning and the bright cast of the sun rays promised nothing short of a
fulfilling day. Well, it already was a fulfilling day for me and the rest of my colleagues for we have waited patiently, like the proverbial patient Dog,toiling very hard to make it to this level in the thorny path of medical training after the tumultuous storms of pre-clinicals. The joy of
scaling through the hurdles of our 1st
professional examination eclipsed all other possible life worries to yonder oblivion. And here we are, smiling and shining in white glistening
ward coat apparels with stethoscopes hanging around our cervicals - posing doctor wannabes on ward rounds armed with nothing but theoretical
knowledge of just basic medical science.Nothing but joy!
The nurses can be seen in their angel-on-the-rescue white gowns which shone in lovely shimmering radiance. Some were attending to the
rows of patients at the reception, and some others shuttling between the wards with patient's files in
their hands. The endearing smiles on their beautiful faces and the sleek elegance with which they moved about their work spelled out nothing
less of dutiful commitment.
Leading our pack was a consultant gynaecologist -a scholarly icon much like an idol, to me at least,
whom I was to learn afterwards had studied abroad; a "Magna cum laude" graduate of a great citadel of medical studies and research. His
carriage alone was bliss inspiration. Imbued in calm disposition and ample humility, he led us through the hallway into the various wards of the
hospital building.
.
I couldn't help losing myself in deep melancholic
thoughts as I looked around the corners of each
of the wards I found myself in.
From the appreciative smiles on a mother's face
at the presence of the Doctor who announced
great leaps in recuperation of her sick child, to
the fellow who lay on his bed with bandages all
over his body with just the eyes to spare, and
another fellow whose chest movements indicated
great difficulty in breathing.
Staring me in the face was the fact that people
really suffered, and good health is no doubt,
really priceless!
The forlorn looks of solitude on the faces of the
fellows in the psychiatry unit, with the chit-
chattering noises some of them made while
laughing at us, unto themselves, and some unseen
figures prompted me to appreciating my sanity.
.
"This is where you learn practical medicine" said our consultant
"and with time, you'll learn about clerking and information taking - precious skills that'd be
necessary to polish you into very good doctors"
.
Interrupting our erstwhile state of ecstatic
euphoria was the silencing screams of an
ambulance siren. With a crescendoing echo came
the wails which seem to be on an increasing
tempo, and a resultant chaos at the outside
environs of the hospital. The state of confusion
heightened as loud shrieking shouts and screams
of human voices emanated from a distance,
totally saturating the onetime calm ambience.
Quick movements could be seen across the
hallway.
The first gurney passed.
It was from the ambulance. It had a woman on it.
She was soaked in blood. Her screams bore pain,
misery and abject hopelessness.
.
My colleagues and I cast sharp glances at one
another, but not even an utterance proceeded. We
were all at shock.
Then another stretcher ferried across, followed by
another in quick succession, and came even
another -- they were all heading to the emergency
unit.
It was in sheer curiosity that I dashed out with
others who had like courage, to get at least a
glimpse of what was happening. The traces of
blood on the floor led me to the direction of
resounding human cries, and on getting there,
gloom was all I saw.
Men and women shouting and weeping.
I never knew blood had a smell -- the whole room
oozed a stinking pool of it.
Bodies littered the floor, and as some writhed in
pains, some showed no sign of body movement at
all - and probably had gone to be with the lord.
I saw the woman on the first stretcher, she
struggled as the doctor tried an emergency
procedure on her. She coughed vehemently with
blood gushing out of her mouth and nostrils, and
at the end of a vigorous convulsion came a still
stance of her body, eyes abruptly dilated. Cupping
her right wrist in check for her pulse, the doctor
shook his head in utter disappointment.
She'd given up the ghost!
A boy by the corner kept on with his cries. He
sure had cheated death from the look of things,
but another sure thing was that he never would
walk on both legs again. Amputation awaited what
was left of his crushed lower limbs.
I couldn't take it any longer as I couldn't control
the lacrimal secretions rolling freely down my
cheeks. I left the room in total shock and
thoughts of how fickle life is.
.
"These fellows woke up this morning and never
envisaged an automobile accident befalling them.
And while some died outrightly, others are yet
going to die within a short period, while some
others were given a second chance at life amidst
maimed legs, arms and faces."
At the thought that someone's mother wasn't going
to return home today, my tears flowed even the
more.
.
A door opened quickly at the other corner I found
myself during my lone walk, and a stretcher
followed in immediately. It had a woman on it.
She was pregnant.
A man stood by the side soothing her as the
gurney was pushed to the operation theatre but
the man was shut out of the room as his wife
entered for a Caesarean section.
He paced the corridor with wanton restlessness
and apprehension and on seeing me, he rushed to
my end beckoning:
.
"Doctor please, I hope my wife would be alright?"
Wow, if only he knew I was just a bloody medical
student.
.
With the situation at hand, I had no option than to
hide my tears-filled eyes, assuring his perturbed
spirit of a safe delivery.
And then came a cry -- cries of a new born baby.
I could only imagine the joy in the heart of this
man as he hugged me. He danced and jumped
after letting go of his tight grip on me. I equally
shared in his joy and congratulated him. My
saddened heart had recovered to a great extent
and the bitterness experienced earlier had
regressed.
A Doctor came out of the room, he wore a sad
look. The baby was safely delivered, but the
mother was lost.
.
I have never seen a man cry like baby before!
.
It got me wondering. Just now, a new life was
given and yet another taken. Well, it taught me
how priceless life itself is, and why everything
within means must be done to save it.
And it became clearer to me that the career path
I've chosen is no easy one.
Emotional strength is highly needed.
.
And just again, another siren came buzzing. What
is it this time? I asked myself, ready for whatever.
The sound was different from the earlier one, it
was rather melodious -- my bloody alarm clock
beckoning on me to wake up.
Well, I woke and realised it was all in a trance,
and the reality of my still being a preclinical
student prompted me to strong emotions.
I blinked.
Tears!
But if this is what goes on in the clinical wards,
then I better get ready for it, I am giving my all
.
.
Author:Agubama Fimbar Francis
Publisher: Eze Anthony Onyebuchi
.
Work of Fiction
citing me to jittery memories of my childhood dread of being here. And with the little I could recollect coupled with the tales my mom usually
tells of my adamant obstinacy those times; I abhorred the prickle of a needle on my precious skin, always protesting although to a downright
futility. Even to this day, the odour of drugs always irked me to worrisome nauseation and the sensation of tablets passing down my oesophagus
aggravated the resentment. Isn't it therefore rather surprising and somewhat ironical that the then
"hospito-phobic" fellow now trains to become a practising professional who would prickle the skins of others with needles and make prescriptions to a drug-swallowing effect?
.
It was a beautiful Monday morning and the bright cast of the sun rays promised nothing short of a
fulfilling day. Well, it already was a fulfilling day for me and the rest of my colleagues for we have waited patiently, like the proverbial patient Dog,toiling very hard to make it to this level in the thorny path of medical training after the tumultuous storms of pre-clinicals. The joy of
scaling through the hurdles of our 1st
professional examination eclipsed all other possible life worries to yonder oblivion. And here we are, smiling and shining in white glistening
ward coat apparels with stethoscopes hanging around our cervicals - posing doctor wannabes on ward rounds armed with nothing but theoretical
knowledge of just basic medical science.Nothing but joy!
The nurses can be seen in their angel-on-the-rescue white gowns which shone in lovely shimmering radiance. Some were attending to the
rows of patients at the reception, and some others shuttling between the wards with patient's files in
their hands. The endearing smiles on their beautiful faces and the sleek elegance with which they moved about their work spelled out nothing
less of dutiful commitment.
Leading our pack was a consultant gynaecologist -a scholarly icon much like an idol, to me at least,
whom I was to learn afterwards had studied abroad; a "Magna cum laude" graduate of a great citadel of medical studies and research. His
carriage alone was bliss inspiration. Imbued in calm disposition and ample humility, he led us through the hallway into the various wards of the
hospital building.
.
I couldn't help losing myself in deep melancholic
thoughts as I looked around the corners of each
of the wards I found myself in.
From the appreciative smiles on a mother's face
at the presence of the Doctor who announced
great leaps in recuperation of her sick child, to
the fellow who lay on his bed with bandages all
over his body with just the eyes to spare, and
another fellow whose chest movements indicated
great difficulty in breathing.
Staring me in the face was the fact that people
really suffered, and good health is no doubt,
really priceless!
The forlorn looks of solitude on the faces of the
fellows in the psychiatry unit, with the chit-
chattering noises some of them made while
laughing at us, unto themselves, and some unseen
figures prompted me to appreciating my sanity.
.
"This is where you learn practical medicine" said our consultant
"and with time, you'll learn about clerking and information taking - precious skills that'd be
necessary to polish you into very good doctors"
.
Interrupting our erstwhile state of ecstatic
euphoria was the silencing screams of an
ambulance siren. With a crescendoing echo came
the wails which seem to be on an increasing
tempo, and a resultant chaos at the outside
environs of the hospital. The state of confusion
heightened as loud shrieking shouts and screams
of human voices emanated from a distance,
totally saturating the onetime calm ambience.
Quick movements could be seen across the
hallway.
The first gurney passed.
It was from the ambulance. It had a woman on it.
She was soaked in blood. Her screams bore pain,
misery and abject hopelessness.
.
My colleagues and I cast sharp glances at one
another, but not even an utterance proceeded. We
were all at shock.
Then another stretcher ferried across, followed by
another in quick succession, and came even
another -- they were all heading to the emergency
unit.
It was in sheer curiosity that I dashed out with
others who had like courage, to get at least a
glimpse of what was happening. The traces of
blood on the floor led me to the direction of
resounding human cries, and on getting there,
gloom was all I saw.
Men and women shouting and weeping.
I never knew blood had a smell -- the whole room
oozed a stinking pool of it.
Bodies littered the floor, and as some writhed in
pains, some showed no sign of body movement at
all - and probably had gone to be with the lord.
I saw the woman on the first stretcher, she
struggled as the doctor tried an emergency
procedure on her. She coughed vehemently with
blood gushing out of her mouth and nostrils, and
at the end of a vigorous convulsion came a still
stance of her body, eyes abruptly dilated. Cupping
her right wrist in check for her pulse, the doctor
shook his head in utter disappointment.
She'd given up the ghost!
A boy by the corner kept on with his cries. He
sure had cheated death from the look of things,
but another sure thing was that he never would
walk on both legs again. Amputation awaited what
was left of his crushed lower limbs.
I couldn't take it any longer as I couldn't control
the lacrimal secretions rolling freely down my
cheeks. I left the room in total shock and
thoughts of how fickle life is.
.
"These fellows woke up this morning and never
envisaged an automobile accident befalling them.
And while some died outrightly, others are yet
going to die within a short period, while some
others were given a second chance at life amidst
maimed legs, arms and faces."
At the thought that someone's mother wasn't going
to return home today, my tears flowed even the
more.
.
A door opened quickly at the other corner I found
myself during my lone walk, and a stretcher
followed in immediately. It had a woman on it.
She was pregnant.
A man stood by the side soothing her as the
gurney was pushed to the operation theatre but
the man was shut out of the room as his wife
entered for a Caesarean section.
He paced the corridor with wanton restlessness
and apprehension and on seeing me, he rushed to
my end beckoning:
.
"Doctor please, I hope my wife would be alright?"
Wow, if only he knew I was just a bloody medical
student.
.
With the situation at hand, I had no option than to
hide my tears-filled eyes, assuring his perturbed
spirit of a safe delivery.
And then came a cry -- cries of a new born baby.
I could only imagine the joy in the heart of this
man as he hugged me. He danced and jumped
after letting go of his tight grip on me. I equally
shared in his joy and congratulated him. My
saddened heart had recovered to a great extent
and the bitterness experienced earlier had
regressed.
A Doctor came out of the room, he wore a sad
look. The baby was safely delivered, but the
mother was lost.
.
I have never seen a man cry like baby before!
.
It got me wondering. Just now, a new life was
given and yet another taken. Well, it taught me
how priceless life itself is, and why everything
within means must be done to save it.
And it became clearer to me that the career path
I've chosen is no easy one.
Emotional strength is highly needed.
.
And just again, another siren came buzzing. What
is it this time? I asked myself, ready for whatever.
The sound was different from the earlier one, it
was rather melodious -- my bloody alarm clock
beckoning on me to wake up.
Well, I woke and realised it was all in a trance,
and the reality of my still being a preclinical
student prompted me to strong emotions.
I blinked.
Tears!
But if this is what goes on in the clinical wards,
then I better get ready for it, I am giving my all
.
.
Author:Agubama Fimbar Francis
Publisher: Eze Anthony Onyebuchi
.
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