The bearer of bad tidings!

I saw a young lady last week with gangrene of her left foot. She had developed a sudden pain in that foot while returning from an errand a month before which left her unable to use the limb. As is usual in this part of the world, 'forces of darkness' had been responsible for the pain and loss of function. It was suggested by many people that she had stepped on some fetish and thus was unable to walk.



She presented a month after the initial episode with gangrene of the foot. All her toes were already very dark. She was cachectic, pale,and very unhappy. I took one look at her and knew right away what needed to be done, I was sure that my diagnosis and suggested mode of management would not be warmly received.



She was my first patient that morning and I wondered at my rotten luck to have to dish out such unpleasant news to a young woman. I did not rehearse the lines running through my head ('young lady, the only way your life can be saved is to have an amputation'). How could I utter those words to a family who had come to me to give them hope. They wanted to know that their daughter would be alright not have some dokita leave them bereft of hope.



Over the months I had decided that the best way to dish out unpleasant news is to go right to the point without trying to hide under high sounding words. It may make me look callous but I don't get the stares or the unasked questions from relations who think you are giving them hope just to have everything come crashing down when the truth is finally revealed.



Anyway I told the lady and her relations that she needed an amputation and only that could save her life. Their response was that of the initial shock and then the deluge of pleas began: Could nothing else be done? What if we take her to another hospital with better facilities? Can't any drugs be given? etc, etc.



I really wish I had good news to give but I didn't. I looked at this young lady who may have had her two feet intact if her folks had done the right thing and brought her to a hospital instead of listening to old wives tales! I looked at the father whose tears mingled with his daughters and shed my own tears unseen. Her mother on the other hand could not contain her outburst and had to leave the building. Why o why did I have to give such bad news?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Death III

Image
In recounting my near misses, I can't but think of how many other misses I am unaware of. As a child, I was the only one who was hospitalized a few times compared to my siblings and cousins. I cannot remember if I ever felt sick enough to be at deaths door, but I do know I disliked getting injections. During one of my trips to the hospital I was to receive a Novalgin injection, for those of you old enough to remember Novalgin, it was the most painful torturous injection ever. I screamed hell and blue murder as the nurse approached with a Novalgin shot. 'I don't take injections', I lamented in my most piteous voice, you would think anyone with a heart would see the tears and back down but those nurses were a special breed. After a few minutes of my temporary madness, my father was summoned, it took just one look from him and I accepted the drilling of the syringe through my marrow (that was what it felt like) without as much as a squeak. The feeling Novalgin gave your bu
Read more

Death 5

Image
Over the past few years, I have observed with much more attention, the passage of generations. I listened to the retirement speech of an old teacher of mine in medical school. She spoke about wondering why a classmate of hers in high school was bereft because her father had died in his 50s. Her own parents were in their 30s and according to her, she thought 50 was ancient. She tactlessly commented about her friends grief wondering why she was so distraught. She made us all laugh when she mentioned that now at the age of 70, she does not count herself as one of the ancients. My job brings me face to face with death on a daily basis and this has spurred me to put my house in order. I have had documents prepared for the disposal of my earthly benefits and I have appointed financial and health power of attorneys. I mention, like I mentioned in my last post to prevent the DMs that never fail to follow these posts, that I am not actively dying but I think preparing for death is as important
Read more

My Mother Tongue!

I grew up speaking English as my first language and I can tell you that is one fact I am not proud about. I remember once when we were much younger shouting out the only Yoruba words we knew as children 'olosi', 'oloriburuku' etc. My grandmother came out of the house hurriedly to put a stop to our foolishness, what on earth did we think we were doing? she asked, our reply still puts a smile on my face 'we are speaking Yoruba' we replied. My lack of proficiency in speaking Yoruba ( I can write it:) is revealed anytime I speak to my patients. When our conversation is not just me answering in monosyllables, I begin to speak rapidly in my mother tongue but by the end of my first two sentences, I hear myself stuttering and stammering and Im wondering if the patients don't think this doctor is having a sudden attack of catatonia! My Yoruba teacher in Secondary school summed up my Yoruba speaking prowess to my parents during an open day 'She is a good student b
Read more