DOKITA: Book 2

  The Struggles of a Young Resident Doctor

  CHAPTER 1.
When Raymond was a young child of about 6 years of age, all he had wished for was to have a large, spacey office; with cushioned chairs, a fridge (or deep freezer, in his imagination), a spin chair and an air conditioning system that could freeze the teeth.
10 years later, his aspiration had changed. It had been sudden, abrupt and right on the heels of a painful demise- that of his father; to a road traffic accident. His banker father, a saintly driver, had his car run into by a 22year old drunk, music blasting driver. On seeing the damage he’d caused, the young chap had fled rapidly from the scene.
It was 9pm. It was a lonely route.
His father could not have made it, not with the level of apathy with which emergency medicine was practiced in the country of Raymond’s birth; Nigeria.
No air conditioning system would have been strong enough to freeze his father’s flowing blood, or to save it up in the container that was his body.
It was at Mr. Osita, his father’s burial that Raymond came to a final decision. A medical doctor, he would become.
He would specialize in emergency medicine, and he envisioned that he would change the face of trauma medicine, in his time.
Let me introduce you to his struggles.
It started with WAEC, and then JAMB.
His poor mother had supported him profusely, collecting ‘Ajo’ all over the place, earning her the reputable nickname she was now known by: ‘Iya Alajo’ (thrift-collector). However, she’d resolved, long ago to hold her head high. She bore that name with staunch pride.
After all, she’d reasoned; they wouldn’t be the ones to be called ‘Iya Dokita’.
It would be her.
Her.
Josephine Osita.
Her humble self.
Raymond failed WAEC twice; and JAMB once.
It wasn’t like he really failed though, but English Language was always doing him ‘strong thing.’
Eventually, he made all his papers, at one sitting and at the ripe age of 19; with a sterling result of 7As and 1C- your guess is as good as mine; in English Language.
That year, JAMB had smiled at him; although again, his result was almost ruined by his albatross, English Language.
But he had scaled through. Yes, he had scaled through, this time.
The university of his first choice; the University of Calabar, had offered him admission into the department of Human Anatomy.
Crest-fallen, he had resumed, having high hopes of switching to his dream department, Medicine.
He read like a mad man that year. Sorry, I meant to say, a mentally deranged man.
Literally.
God, it seemed, was looking him in the face as well as giving him a nod in the affirmative, for 8 years and 2 months later, with pocketed strike actions taken into consideration; Raymond had a certificate that bore his name and written in gold, the Bachelor of Medicine, Bachelor of Surgery (MBBS) degree. He also, had a license.
Raymond was now a doctor.
‘Iya Alajo’ became ‘Iya Dokita’. That, was enough for her.
But for Raymond, little did he know, that his struggles had just begun. More insightfully, they were just about to begin.
He started housemanship/internship at a reputable facility- accompanied by struggles I do not wish to recount, here. By the way, neither does he.
He subsequently discovered, that only 2 hospitals in Nigeria had Residency Training programs in Emergency Medicine.
Would he have to jet out of Nigeria, to live his dream?
Quite an exciting option.
And so, Raymond began the rigorous process of writing exams.
USMLE; check.
PLAB; check.
Other ancillary exams; check.
Still, no luck.
At the age of 32, Raymond began to apply to the Nigerian institutions that offered his dream residency slot, whilst working at a private practice.
‘Iya Dokita’ was pestering him to bring home a wife.
That, was the least of Raymond’s troubles.
Finally, it seemed like God had been drawn to Raymond’s side again, for he got a residency slot, in Emergency Medicine!
That is how Raymond began to work in this reputable, teaching hospital.
His badge reads thus:
Dr. R.A Osita
Trauma Medicine (Resident).
Welcome, to his world.