Episode 01 - A tale of 3 years

"He is here", she said, as the terrible sound of the bike reverberated the locality. I entered the compound with a sack and an Ecolac bag on my left and right hand respectively. 

I prostrated to greet my parents before making my way to the house to fill my belly with some cups of fresh, cold kunu. 

“He should be able to prescribe drugs now.“, my dad shuddered to my mum though I could hear his strong, sharp voice intensified in my ears. 

I was nothing but a bloody 100 level student who just finished his second semester examinations. 

“It seems they don't know I just finished physics and chemistry”, I said, soliloquizing in front of our squeaky cat that was looking at me with so much sympathy. 

Ever since I made a decision to study Medicine and Surgery, it had always had a soft spot for me. I don't know if he had seen a perilous future ahead; I wasn't curious though. 

Few months later, we resumed back to school. I heaved a sign of relief like a pregnant rat that just gave birth. I had vowed that I would daze my parents with all the knowledge I would amass from the bulky, lusty textbooks I was planning to get; and from those experiences, when we begin to cut and operate on patients but I didn't know I was deceiving myself. 

My second year in the University of Ilorin was filled with tears and cries, of joy and of reproach. Countless time, I always wondered why I ever sign up for a course that will never give me peace of mind. Many times, I almost gave up, if not for the fact that every one of us were in the same shoe and was not just me alone. Seniors advices too, they kept me afloat. 

Few months later, I came back for holiday again, my second to the last holiday precisely. It was so exciting coming back to Lagos to see my parents again. 

That fateful evening, I entered and saw my junior brother laid on the floor. No other person was home. I went beside him and noticed an unusual temperature, like rivers of fire gushing out of his essence. 

“I've been feeling hot for a while now, what can I use”, he muttered. 

“What do I know” 

“Are you not a doctor”

“A what? You don't even know anything...”

I was thinking about my results that would be released in few days time: an exam that took me closer to hell's fire. I look at him with compassion. 

Kyphosis, TEF, Erythroblastosis Fetalis, Apnea — these were the stuffs coming to my head but was of no use in this case. The little lad had no idea of the pain and discomfort I went through to be alive and sane!

I gave him a fierce, crunchy look like a bleeding, sedated baboon and veered off into my room to take a nap for a while. 

I woke up. It was already dark. I had slept for just few minutes but a lot of harm was done already. Gideon had already been taken to the nearest clinic because the pain was becoming unbearable. He was said to have an acute fever due to the hot weather and the hot food he ate that evening. 

“You have spent two years in medical school, yet you can't even treat a patient, are you sure you are reading? “ my dad said, holding a bottle with so much energy that the bottle almost cried to death. 

I sat on the floor in my room, looking down and depressed like a student that failed a viva exam. They cannot understand — I said to myself and to my other companion.

Few months later, resumption dawned on me; it was my third year. I had good scores in my last exam, the ones that can make pass though. Glory to God in the highest! 

My third year was not easy. Stuff everywhere! Book everywhere!! From meningitis to gastritis, from cushing syndrome to 'water under a bridge'; life was stressful and hard. Days after days, weeks after weeks, I was bashed and constantly dazed. Did I give up on life? No! It was life that gave up on me. Thanks to hope that returned it to him. I had quite a few, good experiences and exposures. 

After my professional exams, I came back and got home around 1pm. They were watching a surgery-related movie and of course I was witty and ready to move some stuffs. After the greetings and exchange of pleasantries. I started to say some things, predicts steps and voilà! I was correct. 

“He is a medical student.” my father told my Uncle who returned from the kitchen after consuming a plate of insi ewu, an Igbo cultural delicacy. 

“You're doing well”, my junior siblings added and started laughing. 

I was beginning to feel myself until some issues came up that I could not handle. 

“We will be taught these during our clinical years”, I said as I squeezed a spoonful volume of Sphagettini down my throat. 

As I entered my room, my uncle came in and told me about his health condition; how that he has no money to go the hospital but if I could just prescribe a drug that he can get from his pharmacy. 

At least I know physiology and a little pharmacology, so why shouldn't I try. 

“The air condition of Lagos is very low. Oxygen content and partial pressure is very low here. That is why you find it difficult to breathe. It's something physiological. You will be fine.”

After some weeks, he has to be admitted because his health had deteriorated. The doctors said he had Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease that affected his lungs. I felt so stupid and sorry. 

“Don't be sad”, my mum said “but how come you got it mixed up, have you forgotten it”

“We have not been taught to that extent, what I know are just that basis of everything, I don't really know anything. Even when I graduate, I still won't understand some things”, I said, peacefully. 

Everyone was shocked. From the sudden rumbles of thunder and the dusty adventures of the wind, I could perceive that even nature was angry with me. Everybody left me; my parents, siblings, the cat, even the flies around. I was left alone and lonely. I felt pity for myself. Out of the blues, an angry rain fell.

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Written by; Jegede Samuel Whyte (The Writer) 

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