LIFE OF A YOUNG NIGERIAN DOC…Pt 1

…I open my eyes and look at my timepiece, shit, I’m late. It seemed like I had only shut my eyes few seconds ago following a hectic weekend call. I quickly get ready and dash out, bike!…biiiike!!! the okada man looks at me and says, “ah dockie, hospital ba?” yes, I reply.

I arrive at work just a few minutes late, phew!!! no salary deductions today suckers!…I mumble to myself and grin. walking into consulting room one, I drop my bag on the seat, hoping to catch a quick bite as hunger dey wire me. as I rummage through my flat wallet checking to see what I could afford, the nursing assistant runs in shouting dokita! dokita!! emergency!!! she yells. My tummy growls, as if aware, it’s gonna be one of those days.

I quickly step into the emergency room and see a middle-aged obese-looking unconscious man lying on the emergency couch, with over 5 relatives in the ER. I check for a pulse, steady…regular. what’s his name? I ask. Barr Gbenga, one relative replies. Mr Gbenga! I call out, no reponse. quickly I assess his GCS, 6/15.

Nurse, get me a glucometer pls. what’s his BP? I never check am, she replies casually. I dash to the side lab, get the glucometer and check, RBS=High (I don enter, I say to myself). I quickly check his blood pressure 110/60mmHg. Get me 0.9% N/S I yell, and things to site an IV line pls. oh, and get the pulse oximeter as well, wetin be that? the nursing assistant asks. Forget it, I snap, not knowing how to describe it to her to make her understand. let’s set up the IVF first.

Tourniquet applied, I stare at Mr Gbenga’s hands, no single trace of a potential line-setting vein anywhere…why me? why today? I mumble. I reapply the tourniquet on every limb, no show. relatives shouting and crying dokita!!! do something oooo!!! where’s that house officers vein at again sef, I say to myself. I palpate the wrist, no show. I then check the cubital fossa and notice one tiny vein and I’m able to site the line…HALLELUJAH!!!

The IVF is commenced, rush 1L over 30mins, 1L over 1hour, 1L over 2hours and another Litre over 4hours. reassess the RBS hourly for now pls, I say to the nursing assistant. I get the pulse oximeter and assess his SPO2, 66%…shit! get me the oxygen cylinder! I yell. ah, e dey upstairs o doc, and me I nor fit carry am, e too heavy. I dash up to the 3rd floor, get the oxugen cylinder and run back downstairs. set it up (via nasal prongs at 4-6L/min) and after a shortwhile reassess the px’s O2 sat. now 86% and rising…thank God

I recall samples for further investigations had not been collected. pls get specimen bottles for FBC, MP, WIDAL, SEUCR, LFT and Lipid profile. Also lets pass a urethral catheter and open an input/output chart pls. when last did he take his meds? I ask the relatives. e nor dey take any medicine o, one replies, e nor sick since o. Hasn’t he been told anywhere before he’s diabetic? I ask. No o dokita, I just go check am for room this evening naim I see am for ground. who are you to him? I ask. I be oga house boy o dokita, he replies. what about his wife and kids? Madam travel o, and oga pikin dem dey school he says.

…to be continued