A PAINFUL INCIDENT
When I saw the woman, she was almost dead. Her breathing was bordering on 'gasping'. A young woman of about 40 years. Abandoned by an absentee husband to die in the village.
She was brought by another young woman of about her age. Her sister who was so frightened she could barely give a history of what was wrong with the ill lady.
She cried more than she talked. And were it not for the fact that the ill woman's case was pretty obvious, it'd have been difficult to get any history.
Thanks to the brilliant student nurse who'd already done blood sugar test and came rushing to me, announcing "Her blood sugar is 'HI'".
I was glad to have heard that, even though I knew immediately that by the end of the day I'd be nursing a back and ankle ache. Because 'HI' blood sugar with coma and dyspnea meant a serious focused effort or the patient would die.
We tell the people that the case is called 'diabetic coma.' I'll spare you the medical details. I passed my exams without cheating so no need playing to the gallery.
But, thing is that we didn't waste any further minute asking the crying woman any more questions, once the blood sugar had been repeated and the result was the same.
Fluids were rushed into the big IV accesses. Insulin and antibiotics. Catheter. Hourly blood sugar. And the rest of them. Oxygen at some point point.
We kept at it. From early sun rise to its fall far in the Eastern horizon.
And as predicted, my ankles and back began to ache. Injuries gotten during years as a goal keeper in primary and secondary school. The cool breeze of nightfall could not help.
But, unlike the other days, I didn't mind the pain. Because as at that time, the almost dead woman was beginning to talk and ask what'd happened to her. I was glad I'd succeeded.
Not because I'd made a promise to her sister that she would live. That was when she was beginning to bawl, speaking in tongues, casting and binding the devil.
I'd advised her to stop blaming the devil and keep calm and go get me the drugs I needed because her sister was just suffering from a medical situation and not a spiritual one.
"I promise you, she'll survive." I made a promise as if I were God!
I was glad because I'd just succeeded once more in saving someone with diabetic emergency issues. Something I'd promised myself to do after I lost an aunt in a primary health center years ago to diabetic keto acidosis.
I was in second year then and after my aunt had breathed her last, I overhead the NYSC doctor explaining to my father that my aunt had died of diabetic keto acidosis.
The words stuck in my head and when I finally became a doctor, I said "Nna, no one with diabetic emergency shall die in your hands."
And so far, I've kept the promise.
And that's why whenever I see one, I roll up my sleeves and fight. And fight till the end.
Fast ward three days later and I went to the canteen to buy water after a colleague had so insulted me because I'd asked her to screen the blood of a post op patient because the surgeon had had a needle injury.
I needed the water to cool my head because it had taken a lot of energy to keep me from 'insulting that colleague back'.
Or was it because I'd wanted to be the civilized one? Either way, I needed to cool off since I'd just avoided yet another opportunity to make a fool of myself by quarreling at work.
I'd just paid for the water and was stepping out when an old woman spoke to me.
"Nna," she called. "Is it only water you want? Take malt. I'll pay."
She said the words with something that I perceived as words of someone about to make a big sacrifice in a show of gratitude. Because the old woman looked destitute and I knew I was supposed to buy for her and not the other way round.
But, she was persistent. "You saved my daughter, and I can't repay you but, I want you to take something. You've been suffering since morning."
Her words touched me and I went over to her.
"Don't worry mama. I am OK. I don't drink malt."
I tried to place her face in my head but, I couldn't. Sometimes we only see the disease and not the faces. Or the faces of the people around.
However, I walked away feeling guilty.
There, was a woman trying to thank me for saving her child, for my 'hard' effort in the fight. But, I knew that I hadn't done it for her daughter. I hadn't really felt so deeply for her. I was just revenging the death of my aunt.
I had saved her mostly out of selfish reasons.
But, lessons were learned.
The old woman's gratitude and words like hers should be the inspiration from now on. And even when they're not there and I have only vile words and ungrateful people, instead, 'to help humanity' should be the inspiration.
The old man once said that the 'intention, the reason behind the action, should always be selfless'.