EPISODE 7
Clinic
this afternoon was dull, Fola noted.
Today
was a public holiday and whilst others stayed late in bed, or had nice moments
with family members, Fola was on call. Well, he’d day-dreamt of having
breakfast in bed. But now that couldn’t happen, could it?
Yes,
he understood why the emergency room had to be open on public holidays.
But
clinics? Fola feigned ignorance of its importance and instead thought up a
thousand-and-one reasons why clinics on public holidays should be scrapped.
Especially
the paediatric clinic.
He
would look into that when he became the chief medical director of an
institution.
A
woman in a red blouse and brown pleated skirt walked in, in her tow a little
girl who wouldn’t stop frowning.
‘Good afternoon, doctor’
‘Good afternoon madam’
Thank
God! She speaks English, Fola thought and almost said out loud.
‘How are you, madam? What is wrong
with this cutie?’
He
tried to play with the child, but she shunned him
‘Fine girl, how are you now?’
She
put her head on her mother’s laps and defiantly refused to raise it up.
‘She’s shy…and also scared of
injections!’ Her mother said, admist laughter.
A
brief admittance into Janet’s mind would have heralded no trace of fear. Only
repulsion at being dragged to the hospital despite being riveted by the chicken
and chips others were eating at home. It was only when she remembered the man
in white that any trace of injection-fear pierced the protective coverings of
her heart.
‘Janet, greet the doctor now’
She
declined with a sharp motion of her head sideways
‘She started coughing 2 days ago.
Today, I noticed that she had temperature.’
Temperature. Fola smiled. ‘Who
doesn’t have temperature?’ He thought again.
‘Oh, she has a fever?’
Fola brought his right hand towards her neck.
Checked
her case note for the temperature recorded by the nurse before the patient’s
entrance into the consulting room. 37.4áµ’, it read.
He
made a mental note to use a thermometer to check it again once he was done
clerking.
Is that all?
‘And catarrh too’
Coryza.
‘I’ll examine her, then prescribe
drugs for her and she should be good to go. She’d be fine in no time’.
Fola said.
‘Ok, thank you Doctor.’
said the beaming mother.
Fola
whistled. So far, so good.
He
opened his phone and began to browse.
‘All
these people that are always posting pictures on instagram sha!’ He
soliloquized once more.
Bunmi
came to his thought again. He had seen her this morning rushing towards the
East Wing and they exchanged pleasantries, howbeit awkwardly, after which she
gave him an invitation card to her wedding.
Her
wedding. It should have been their wedding.
He
really was working hard at not caring about her anymore, but the wound was
still very fresh. This letter only added salt to it.
Maybe
he should work on trying to hate her instead. Maybe that would work.
His
senior colleague, Dr. Ehis, had recommended another girlfriend for him. But it
had seemed rude to him and he deemed it unnecessary. He’d told Dr. Ehis that
much.
The
fella had hissed.
‘No be she break up? You just dey
dull sha, guy give yourself brain o. Wake up! I no even know why you dey carry
this babe for head. Na babe o, common babe! I trust myself sha…’
Fola
didn’t reply. If only he knew.
Bunmi
wasn’t just any girl.
He
made an attempt to stand up from the chair he was sitting on and suddenly felt
a bulge in his back pocket.
The
invitation card.
He
smiled sadly, brought it out and sat down once again.
Might
as well get it over with.
Travis
Greene’s ‘All things are working for my good’ popped up in his head and he
hummed along.
He
felt the edges of the envelope which housed the card.
Serrated
edges. Nice.
Who
was she getting married to? Must be a resident doctor or something.
He
knew about most of the guys who used to disturb her, they’d laughed at most of
the propositions together. He had even gotten into trouble more than once on
account of being her boyfriend while they were in school.
And
it might be someone completely different. He thought again.
His
hands were trembling.
‘Fola calm down, all things will
work together for your good. Take a deep breath.’
He lectured himself.
He
placed the envelope on the table.
What
greeted him next was a stunner.
He
re-read the name of the groom.
Why? What had he done to deserve this?
‘We the Phillips and Amao families
cordially invite you to the solemnization of our children;
Bunmi Camelia Phillips
And
Kehinde James Amao’
And
if not because he knew Kenny’s middle name, he would have completely dispelled
the thought of him being the groom. I mean, what were the chances?
He
would wait to confirm the authenticity of these imagined thoughts.
And
if he was right, he would know for certain, that he had just being proved
wrong.
There
was no way this could work in any way for his good.
It
was all bull-shit!
*******************************************************************
Linda
had studied that night.
Way
harder than she had in weeks, she observed.
Besides
a little drama from one of the patients, the ward hadn’t been such a bad place
to read in.
Who
knew that thoughts of Mama and Papa discovering that she had failed could
petrify her so much?
‘Tufiakwa! No child of mine would
be a failure.’ He’d said when her younger brother had taken the 8th
position in a class of 30.
‘I was a school principal before I
retired, and I know the number of doctors, lawyers, businessmen and women that
I have churned out. Even politicians! Wasn’t Rufus a student of mine? And he’s
now on posters everywhere as a senatorial gubernatorial candidate.’
And
then papa would grumble about how bad the economy was, forcing him to take up
farming.
He’d
not been paid his pension for the past 5years. And proud man that he was, he’d
taken to farming to ensure that he could fend for his family, no matter how
poorly.
She
dared not face her father with news of failure.
Mama’s
was another story entirely. Linda had no iota of doubt that Mama would cry her
entire eyeballs out.
Have
you seen Mama crying before?
She
chuckled a little. It was indeed a funny sight to behold, with her big mouth
wide open.
Not
that she would make jest of Mama or anything.
In
Mama’s voice:
‘You this tiny thing. I carried you
in my womb for 9 months. You even do extra time sef!’
When
Linda was younger, she’d wondered if the womb had fallen out of Mama’s sagged
abdomen and maybe that was why no other child was born after Chukwuma.
So
she had studied hard. Hard and long.
Encouragingly,
the topics in Chemical Pathology had seemed interesting and her reading flowed
seamlessly.
‘God, let this translate to good
marks o!’ She had muttered a half-hearted prayer.
Felix
had brought past questions for her to practice.
She
picked up one on Chemical Pathology and began answering, confident that she
would do well.
50
minutes later, depression was having a field day. She had scored less than half.
She
went through her notes and textbook again. Most of the questions she’d missed
were on account of ‘except’!
Like
‘The following are not true of alkaline
phosphatase except-------------------’
‘I have to be careful of double
negatives.’
She
looked through again.
‘Mtcheew!’
she hissed. So the negatives cancelled each other out?
She
picked up another past question and began to answer with renewed vigor.
There
was absolutely no time to be slack.
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