Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead!!!

Should have followed up on the letter.........Damn!

2011-11-13T11:23:00.003Z

Henry was working late into the night again. He had a pile of paperwork to go through. No matter how hard he worked during the day, there was still so much to take home.
Damn, sleep was gradually taking over. His eyelids had started giving up when a skype call came in on his computer. It was Candy! He hadn't spoken to her in years.
"Hello Candy, how are you? It's been ages you know".
"Oh yeah, just thought I will give you a call. Just changed jobs and I so wanted to tell you about it".
"Wow, congratulations. So where is this new job?"
"Oh, it's with the US Embassy. I handle Diplomatic Relations".
"Hmmm, you are mixing it up with the elite crew now. Good for you".

And that's how they went on for the next three hours. It reminded Henry of their high school days when long phone chats were a regular ritual for the two of them. They were so close then - some sort of celebrity couple, that tongues always wagged all over school. He missed those days, when he could tell her everything (his goals, achievements, successes, failures, about his relationships etc)

Funny that it was Dele, one of his pals who introduced Candy to him. Dele who was now living somewhere in Antigua called him a few months ago and while they were talking had brought up nostalgic memories too. Dele had confessed to being envious of the Henry-Candy friendship.
"I introduced you two to each other, and yet you became so close that I even began to doubt it was me who started it all. It seemed at the time, that you had been inseparable from birth"
Initially, there were the three musketeers (Henry, Candy and Dele) but gradually they drifted off without Dele. They had secrets he knew nothing about, there were several phone conversations that happened without him and quietly, he slipped off to find new friends.

Henry and Candy read together for their exams, and were popular for their academic exploits too; he always won the English prize while she had her firm hold on the Physics one. Their long walks from the laboratory to the school cafe was always full of laughs, giggly pokes and the occasional pecks.
Even when they went back to school, they wrote each other every fortnight. Henry's school mates could always tell by his bright toothy smile that another letter had come in from Candy, and he was never ready to help with any tasks that took place when he was drafting up letters to her.
But that was years ago, things were different now. He heard from a former work colleague that she was engaged to some oil company bloke, and talks of getting married were in the air. As he answered her questions over skype, he could hear his wife's shrill voice from the bedroom as she talked to his mother-in-law. The conversation was regularly interrupted by his ten month old son's chatter.

It was fun talking to her again, and suddenly it was like they had gone back in time. They talked about everything again.

Maybe he should ask her now.......
"So Candy, why didn't you reply the letter I wrote halfway through SS3?"
He had been a bit worried before posting the letter. After days of drafting, re-drafting and re-editting the letter, he still left the words largely inscribed at the top of the note.
It was the first time, he was writing about how he really felt about her. He talked about how she was his best friend, and how he had palpitations when she laughed, how she had a way of solving all his problems and how he couldn't sleep for days when she gave him a peck.
After pouring out his heart, he wrote the words "I LOVE YOU" at the top in the best cursive writing he could muster. Smiling unashamedly all the way to the school post office, he couldn't help imagining what she would write in her reply letter.
Unfortunately, he never got one! Maybe, she wanted them to remain as friends. He was so hurt that he never wrote back.
They met again a couple of months afterwards in the University, but he did not have the courage to ask her. He was devoted to his law books and she was an Engineering student with fingers in student politics. They now had different sets of friends and their paths never seemed to cross.
There was the occasional wave or phone call, but nothing like before. They drifted further apart post-graduation, and that was about five years ago.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What letter are you talking about, Henry?"
"The last one I wrote to you in school".
"Which one? I really can't remember now. Was there something I was supposed to reply about"
He was gobsmacked. Didn't she understand what the letter meant to him?
"I wrote about how much I loved you and how much I wanted us to be together"
"Oh noooo, Henry, I never got that letter. I waited for years for you to tell me something like that. Did you really write that? I wondered why you suddenly changed a few months to Uni"
He sat staring at his wall in shock.........................

Nollywood: Influence on Nigeria’s Health Care System

2011-10-09T17:01:00.000+01:00

There was an intriguing debate a few weeks ago on the Facebook forum for Nigerian doctors all over the world – “Naija Medics Worldwide”. A flurry of posts was triggered off by an article posted by Dr Peter Adeosun, a resident doctor at the Obafemi Awolowo University Teaching Hospital, many complaining of the ill-effects of Nollywood movies on the health care attitudes of Nigerians.
Just like Hollywood and Bollywood, Nollywood has become the name for Nigeria’s feature film industry. Many might not believe this, but in terms of annual film productions, Nollywood is the second largest film industry in the world (second only to Bollywood). The great Hollywood comes third on the rankings. Most Nollywood films are really soap operas – they try to portray the typical Nigerian family or society, and have become increasing popular since 1992 when the film “Living in Bondage” was released. Not just Nigerians watch Nollywood movies, it has gradually crept into the homes of millions all over the world. I was shocked when a Jamaican friend told me her favourite film was “Osuofia in London”!
To the simple mind, movies just educate and entertain; but a more critical review would show that movies reinforce tendencies, help to sell a brand and allows us to see stereotypical perceptions as the norm. Dale’s Cone of Experience – a tool often cited by learning experts shows that we tend to remember about 30% of what we see. Whether this figure is accurate is another issue, but most people will agree that what we watch has a great influence on what we do or how we come to perceive things. Nollywood and Nigerians are no different; people have come to transplant what they see in Nollywood movies into their everyday lives.
As a doctor, I usually watch programmes like ‘House’, ‘Casualty’, ‘E.R’, ‘Grey’s Anatomy’, ‘Scrubs’, ‘Holby City’ and ‘Monroe’, and I am impressed at the attention to detail when acting out medical scenarios. There was a colleague of mine who prepared for his postgraduate medical examinations by watching “House” when he was taking time off his books. Every episode had a new clinical presentation and an interesting diagnosis. Some of the filming for “Monroe” (another series based in the hospital setting) was done in a hospital I had worked in and some of the medical staff were invited to join the film crew to ensure that it was as ‘real-life’ as possible. After watching it, I had to agree that they were “spot-on”.
Why doesn’t Nollywood do the same? What Nollywood does is reinforce the set of harmful customary beliefs and practices that contradict safe modern-day health principles in Nigeria. To make things worse, with the lack of access to sources of quality information for many Nigerians, the best health education teachings many get will be from their stack of Nollywood CDs. Imagine the impact if Nigeria’s film industry could team up with the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) or the Ministry of Health. Safe health care practices will be seen and learnt, medical professionals will be seen as people that can be trusted and believed & disease conditions will be dealt with more urgently. There was a series called “Doctors’ Quarters” on MNET some years ago featuring Kate Nuttall-Henshaw which tried to address these issues but unfortunately did not last too long on TV. By the way, ‘Doctors Quarters’ was not really a Nollywood programme and was only shown on DSTV so not everyone got to watch it.
Just so that you have a grasp of how big the problem is, here are a few excerpts from some Nollywood movies:
- A man reading a newspaper suddenly falls down and starts shaking vigorously with some foamy liquid coming out of his mouth. The wife and daughter start shouting that he has a heart attack.
- Dressed in a scruffy manner (he looks like he has just been across the Sahara desert) but with a stethoscope around his neck, he blurts out “Hello everybody! Your mother is in a critical condition in our ICU now and she has just 2 days more to live. If you don’t get the money for the operation by tomorrow morning, she will die”
- “My sister, you have contracted staphylococcus disease? If you don’t use these antibiotics, it can transform to a very chronic virus’.
- A doctor places the outside part of his hand on the patient’s forehead and says “ Aaaaah, this patient has been poisoned and it is beyond medical treatment”
- Two cars collide and passers-by quickly gather to start dragging people out of the vehicles. (No one remembers to keep their necks immobile because of the risk of spinal cord injury)
I cannot remember a lot of Nollywood doctors giving good news. All they say is “We have tried our best but the patient died” or “This one is beyond us, it requires spiritual treatment”. No wonder, so many people believe in metaphysical aetiologies for the simplest medical problems. The hospital scenes resemble a room on a poultry farm (no wonder no one wants to go to hospital!). A typical cubicle contains a make-shift bed covered with a white bed sheet, and the patient has an empty drip bag swinging over him/her. The drip cannula on the patient’s arm could be in any cardinal direction (north, south, east or west). The doctors shown in Nollywood movies are very limited in their diagnostic abilities. They can diagnose pregnancy (very well….), malaria, typhoid and AIDS, but nothing else. Any other diagnosis leaves them extremely confused and so the patient’s family end up going to the pastor, imam and most times, herbalist. The herbalists are the ‘know-it-alls’ and they never get it wrong (…or at least that is what the family and the film watchers are made to believe). Some of them, as part of their treatment protocol even advise that the patient should not get any second opinion or else the condition will get worse.
Now, I don’t hate Nollywood! I strongly believe it is one of Nigeria’s most successful exports and I would not say all hope is lost. Simple medical maneouvres can be taught via the films e.g. CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation), Heimlich’s maneouvre, haemostasis (controlling bleeding) using pressure etc. The values of childhood immunization, good nutrition, compliance with medications and prompt presentation to hospital should be emphasised on. Medical experts should be invited to advise on scenes that show “anything medical” instead of us being fed the fruits of a film director’s imagination. Nollywood movies can be an excellent means of public health education and it might even achieve much more than health education experts! Hope the guys at 51 Iweka Road, Onitsha and Idumota market, Lagos are reading this?

CAN WE REPAIR THE DISCONNECTION?

2011-08-26T20:06:00.000+01:00

Scenario 1

I was a 300level medical student and hadn’t been home in ages. As I walked down my street, I met the security guard. Immediately, I could tell there was something wrong.
“Doctor, I have something to tell you” He gestured that I should come off the street and talk to him under the big mango tree.
“My friend had sex with this girl, and after a few rounds, she started having a seizure”
He paused for a few seconds.
“Doesn’t that mean he has contacted something and would also start having seizures too?”
I shouldn’t have, but I laughed.
“Oga Kadiri, it wasn’t your friend, it was you”
“Ok, ok, oga dokita, it was me! I am in trouble, abi?”
I took about thirty minutes to explain as much as I could about seizures and why it is not sexually transmitted.

Scenario 2

We spent about twenty minutes trying to resuscitate the baby, but all our efforts were futile. The baby was brought in by the mum and we had diagnosed neonatal tetanus.
The mum wailed and shouted after we broke the sad news to her.
I asked her afterwards, why she had not ensured her baby got the necessary vaccinations.
“K’osele ri ni ile wa” (English translation – It has never happened in our house). I remained sympathetic but shook my head thinking that 100 quid & good health education would have prevented what just happened.

Scenario 3

I had not called him in ages, so it was fun to chat with him again. He was about 25 years older than me and I always asked him for advice. He had lived in the UK in the 80s and always asked me about the cities he had been too. Now he was no ‘continental rookie’, he had been to nearly all world’s continents.
When I asked about his health, he told me had been recently diagnosed with hypertension and diabetes.
“Oooh, so what medications are you taking then?”
“Folusho, I don’t really take them but I always take my YoYo bitters”
I felt like slamming the phone. C’mon, he is an educated man!

Now the three scenarios described happened in the 21st century and there are so many other examples of where the people would believe their herbalists, alternative health practitioners, pastors, imams etc more than the doctors. Why do we allow traditional myths to overrule common sense? Patients will remain in their house until the chances of obtaining any recovery is pretty much 0%.
We are not a dull nation but I think there is a fundamental disconnect between the medics of my country and the Naija populace. It can’t just be that we are a boring species with no appeal.
Or maybe the health education is inadequate. I say this because I was once involved in talking to some members of a rural community somewhere in 2002 about hypertension. After explaining as much as I could in the best Yoruba I could muster using as many analogies as possible, they all asked to have their blood pressures checked. Most of them had never had it checked and did not even have any idea what ‘blood pressure’ was all about. They wanted to know what they could do about it if they were diagnosed to be hypertensive.
Is there any way we could improve the interaction with our populace? Is there any way we could improve our appeal?

Tribute to GrandPa

2011-07-19T23:54:00.004+01:00

As a child, the earliest memory of grandpa was when I was about 7. "Baba Igbajo" as we all called him, was so much fun to be with. He would tickle you till you could laugh no more. I still use the same tickling tricks when I play with Dee. I remember thinking why he was called "Baba Igbajo". Was he the most popular person in the town? Or was he the oldest? The things kids think about :)

I would never forget the first day he tasted ice cream. We had scooped out a good amount for grandpa to enjoy some of our own pleasures. No one could have predicted his funny response. "Wo bo se ri bi omi omu iya mi" (roughly translated - Wow, it tastes like my mother's breast milk!). He left me in stitches that day - I couldn't help wondering what age my lovely grandpa got weaned off breast milk. No wonder he was so strong and agile. A good example of the wonders of that lactating fluid. You would have made a good advert for the Ministry of Health!

He regaled us of stories of adventure, risks and life in Igbajo's rural setting. We were amazed at how he got his finger amputated when he fell off a tree. We looked forward to the yams and bush meat that he always brought along with him. The stew tasted different for weeks afterwards and there was more yam to pound every Sunday (and Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday etc). Thank you Baba, for the numerous yams presented to my wife's family during my wedding engagement. I was proud of your exquisite farming skills when I saw the colossal tubers.

As I grew older, I appreciated the closeness exhibited by my mum and her dad and as I type these words, tears are welling up in my eyes because no one else will feel your departure as much as she would. It made me value the parent-child bond between you two, that remained evergreen despite the many years apart. Mummy's eyes would always light up whenever she spoke with you or when you came visiting.

My friends envied me whenever I said all my grandparents were still with us. We saw you live past the 70, 80 and 90 year landmark and appreciated the gift of strong genes. We always saw our strong "Baba Igbajo" who remained a hardworking farmer even in his old age. This made me it rather unbelievable when I spoke to you over the phone and heard the stroke-induced slurring of speech. It couldn't be! Even then, you showed how much of a fighter you were. many would have waved the white flag of surrender but you recovered and showed anything is beatable.

I feel pained because I wanted you to see me get to the very top and make you proud of my achievements. I wanted you to see your grandson exhibit the same skills of strength, risks, adventure and hard work you displayed throughout your life. I wanted to make you proud of me.
I won't wave the white flag, you might not be physically around but you would see me from above and keep me right. This is so painful.................

Till we meet again, Baba Igbajo! I would miss you so much!!!

Getting rid of the Goliaths!

2011-07-17T19:41:00.000+01:00

“Some things are just meant to be” Kim tried encouraging herself.
She looked up from the bed as the sun rays streamed through the window panes.
Kim’s dream was to become a politician at the highest level. For the last ten years, she had read several books and biographies on political matters. She understood the class struggles that provoked Che Guevara, respected Nelson Mandela’s quest for reconciliation and appreciated the leanings of the American Founding Fathers. She had attended several conventions, spoken at several meetings and met with hundreds of interest groups.

“Should I submit the registration form? Can I win the elections?” This was what she had waited for, and yet thousands of doubts crept in.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------“Quitters don’t win and winners don’t quit”

I have had several favourite quotes but this one falls into my top three. As a teenager, I had those words pasted on my bedroom wall and they went a long way to keeping my feet on the ground. I am sure there is some God-given ability in great men/women that defies setbacks and failures.

Michael Jordan is still regarded by many as the greatest basketballer, but very few will believe that he was not picked in his sophomore year because he was too short. During the Atlanta 1996 Olympics, I could not believe my eyes when I saw Michael Johnson pose by the timer with 19.32 seconds glaring boldly on the screen. Many years before, he had been told by coaches that his peculiar running style (short steps and stiff upright stance) was not the stuff of champions.

As a child, Richard Branson was regarded as dyslexic but today he owns Necker island and his Virgin brand is famous worldwide. Ben Carson rose from the pressures associated with a broken family and racial stereotyping to become a renowned brain surgeon and recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Just in case you are wondering, the award is the highest civilian award in the United States.

Winston Churchill did very poorly in school and even had to do the entrance examination into the Royal Military College, Sandhurst thrice but went on to become Britain’s greatest prime minister and the only one to win a Nobel Prize in Literature. I don’t even need to tell you about Abraham Lincoln – his story of pre-presidency failures are very well known to all!

The truth is, you can achieve anything you want to achieve!!!

A Mischievous Phone Call!

2011-07-15T23:26:00.001+01:00

It could be a sinking feeling sometimes when the bleep goes off. As the doctor on call in a large department or hospital, when all you have been doing all day is trying to save lives and you can't remember the last meal you had; what you don't want is "that phone call"!
The phone call could either leave you bewildered, or create tasks that will take up your next four hours. Sometimes, it could be a referrer with an attitude that stinks.
The feeling is even worse if its your first day in a department where you have no idea of how to manage their difficult cases.

Anyway, a couple of years ago, I went on a night-out with some work colleagues of mine. We went to 'some really cool' restaurant in the Leeds town centre and ate, drank and chatted till very late. I really can't remember whose idea it was, but we decided to play a prank on the junior doctor who was on call on the department. It was her first day on night call in the Neurosurgery department so we all felt the prank would have maximal effect too!
I felt I would be the best at causing the mischief so I whipped out my phone and dialled the number for the hospital switchboard. Within seconds, the switchboard operator had picked up and I asked to be put through to the Neurosurgery SHO on call.

Everybody went quiet. "What was Andy going to say?"

'Hello, is that the Neurosurgery SHO on call'

'Yeeesss' Quivering voice on the other end.

'Ooooh, fantastic, I have been trying to get in touch with your registrar but I think he is busy in theatre so I had no choice but to call you'.

'Okaaaay!'

'My name is Martin, and I am one of the A&E registrars. Can I make a referral?'

'Yeah, go on'

'We have got a young gentleman, say about 23 who was brought in by his friends. I think they had been drinking out all night. He has come in with a bucket stuck onto his head and has become unresponsive. The bucket is stuck on so we can't really assess his GCS, but he is making incomprehensible sounds'and has got some limb weakness.

'Eeeerrrrrrm' She sounded scared now, but I went on.

We need an urgent CT scan on the man and have got him down to the CT department, unfortunately we still cannot get the bucket off, so we will need someone from Neurosurgery to take care of that'

'Ooooh my gosh, erm erm erm, I will need to try my registrar again or or or.......'

Everyone on the table in the restaurant burst into laughter. I had kept a straight face throughout and had done well not to laugh at all, but at that point, I guess I couldn't torture her anymore as well.

'Kate, its Andrew. I have got the whole crew here, we just wanted to scare you a little bit'

' Aaaaaaaah Andy, you scared me, I'm gonna kill you! Are they all laughing at me?'

'No, not really? Let me leave you now, I'm so sorry I disturbed your call.

I hung up and we kept laughing again for a while.

The next day when I got to work, I went looking for Katie and apologised immediately for my mischievous act.
Strong girl, she didn't even seem to mind!

They've been there for ages!

2011-06-24T10:56:00.000+01:00

With all the recent uprisings in North Africa, I could not resist the temptation to do some research on Africa’s longest ruling leaders. Is there something about the continent, regarded as the cradle of humanity, that makes the leaders cling on to power for so long? Would it require a supernatural act to get the countries to amend their constitutions allowing, say a five year term?

Anyway, here are Africa’s top ten current longest ruling leaders. You would notice I have included the men who have been making the headlines in the last few weeks (i.e. Ben Ali, Mubarak and Gaddafi)

10. PRESIDENT ZINE AL-ABIDINE BEN ALI of TUNISIA (7 November 1987 to 14 January 2011)
President Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali came to power following 84 year old Habib Bourguiba’s impeachment on medical grounds in line with Article 57 of the country’s constitution. Riots over unemployment, which started in December 2010 gradually increased in intensity and Mr Ben Ali had to flee to Saudi Arabia in January 2011. A caretaker committee has been set up prior to the next elections.

9. PRESIDENT BLAISE COMPAORE of BURKINA FASO (15 October 1987 to date)
In a country called “Land of Upright Men”, Blaise Compaore, 33 years old at the time became the president after Thomas Sankara’s mysterious death. He was elected president in 1991. The opposition boycotted the elections making it a very easy process. President Compaore has since won three elections in 1998, 2005 and 2010.

8. KING MSWATI III of SWAZILAND (25 April 1986 to date)
King Mswati was crowned in April 1986 as a 18-year old. He had been chosen to be king at the age of 14 in 1982; but since he was still too young, two of his father’s wives served as regents while he continued his education in England. As an absolute monarch, he has the power to elect the Prime Minister, members of the cabinet and the judiciary.

7. PRESIDENT YOWERI MUSEVENI of UGANDA (26 January 1986 to date)
Yoweri Museveni toppled Basilio Okello in January 1986 to become Uganda’s president after several talks and peace treaties had broken down. In 2001 when Museveni won the presidential elections by a substantial majority, there was only one challenger - his former friend and personal physician Kizza Besigye.

6. PRESIDENT PAUL BIYA of CAMEROON (6 November 1982 to date)
Prior to becoming president in 1982, Mr Biya had been Prime Minister since 1975. After being re-elected in 2004, Biya was barred by a two-term limit in the Constitution from running for President again in 2011. In his 2008 New Year's message, Biya expressed support for revising the Constitution, saying that it was undemocratic to limit the people's choice. Four months later, the constitution was amended with the time limits removed.

5. PRESIDENT HOSNI MUBARAK of EGYPT (14 October 1981 – 11 February 2011)
Vice President Hosni Mubarak took over after President Sadat’s assassination (President Sadat had set up a peace treaty with Israel) by Islamist militants in October 1981. He was confirmed as president by a referendum. Mubarak survived several assassination attempts and has been re-elected in a referendum for successive terms on several occasions. Following the recent uprisings in Egypt, he had to give up office.

4. PRESIDENT ROBERT MUGABE of ZIMBABWE (18 April 1980 to date)
Robert Mugabe led his ZANU party to victory at the elections in February 1980, after Zimbabwe had won its independence from Britain. He served as Prime Minister from 1980 to 1987, and has been executive head of state since 1987. Currently he is sharing power, with Morgan Tsvangirai as Prime Minister - but remains president.

3. PRESIDENT JOSE EDUARDO DOS SANTOS of ANGOLA (10 September 1979 to date)
President Jose Eduardo dos Santos assumed power following the death of Angola's first president, Agostinho Neto, in September 1979. He is also the leader of the MPLA (People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola), the party that supports the Angolan government. He is widely believed to have survived an assassination attempt in October 2010.

2. PRESIDENT TEODORO OBIANG NGUEMA OF EQUATORIAL GUINEA (3 August 1979 to date)
President Nguema is the current Chairperson of the African Union. He came to power in August 1979 after deposing Macias Nguema. After an amendment of the constitution in 1982, Nguema was elected to a seven year term. Interestingly, he was re-elected again in 1989 as the only candidate. President Nguema is an expert at elections, as he won 97% of the vote at the elections in 2002. He had another landslide victory in the recent 2009 elections.

1. PRESIDENT MUAMMAR GADDAFI of LIBYA (1 September 1969 – probably very soon)
At the moment, Africa's undisputed longest-serving ruler is Muammar Gaddafi, who has been in office since 1969. That means all my life; I have not known Libya to have any other leader. Col Gaddafi at the age of 27 with a group of a few junior officers led a bloodless coup to take over from King Idris who had travelled out of the country for medical treatment.
He is generally considered as being controversial – the Amnesty International hold him responsible for several assassinations. His bodyguard contingent known as the Amazonian Guard is made up entirely of females, who are virgins, well skilled in martial arts and handpicked by Gaddafi himself. He is currently facing an uphill battle, as widely publicised by the media to hold on to power.

Just a bit of numbers!

2011-06-13T21:26:00.002+01:00

Before 1962, Neurosurgery in Nigeria was carried out by general surgeons

who treated head injuries and superficial lesions of the craniospinal axis. However, since 1962 when E. Latunde Odeku returned to Ibadan from the United States, Neurosurgery has gradually picked up, albeit very slowly and still very far off from the Neurosurgeon: Population ratios in developed countries.

At the time of Nigeria’s independence in 1960, the country had one medical school but no (0) neurosurgeons. By 1974, there were six medical schools and there were six (6) neurosurgeons. Latunde Odeku had been joined by Adelola Adeloye and A.A. Olumide in Ibadan, Colin Da Silva worked at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital and Sam Ohaegbulam was at the University of Nigeria Teaching Hospital, Nsukka.

By 1983, the number had increased to eight (8) and later fourteen (14) by 1993. Currently, Nigeria has about twenty five (25) neurosurgeons. The progressive trend has been largely due to the establishment of new centres, especially in the Northern part of the country and the training in the already established units, like the University of Ibadan where the neurosurgical department is led by Prof. Temitayo Shokunbi.

In a country with a population around 150million (1: 6,000,000), the number of neurosurgeons is still way below the expected. Harvey Cushing suggested that a proportion of one neurosurgeon to one million would be adequate (Scoville 1973) while Isamat 1996, proffered that a ratio of 1:200,000 would be better.

The United States has about 4000 practising neurosurgeons with a ratio of about 1.5/100,000 US citizens (Cahill 2000). The number had risen dramatically from about 2000 in 1971. Canada with a population of about 28million has a ratio of 1:142,000 while Great Britain has about 300 neurosurgeons for a population of 60million citizens.

Studies amongst medical students have shown that the perception of difficulty relating to neurosurgery was significantly less in those who had good exposure to the specialty as compared to those who had not. A study by Emejulu JK in 2010 showed that most people believed that lack of facilities/equipment was the greatest hindrance to neurosurgical practice. Inconclusive evidence also shows that there are probably more Nigerian neurosurgeons outside than inside the country.

What's my take on all this?
With a top ten world population, there should be an emphasis on increasing the neurosurgical workforce in Nigeria by increasing awareness amongst medical students and junior registrars, improving facilities and collaborating with neurosurgeons abroad. Head and spinal injuries sustained from road traffic accidents and paediatric neurological conditions associated with the high birth rates/population explosion would be more appropriately managed if this happens.

After 30 months!

2011-06-12T18:51:00.003+01:00

Wow, after 30 whole months I am back on blogville.
My last blog post was in December 2008. It seems like a decade already. The time has been quite eventful - Elections in Nigeria have come and gone, worked in Glasgow and then Leeds, I got my permanent neurosurgical training post and moved down to London, my baby daughter is now a playful and garrulous toddler, I have travelled to a few countries (France, Switzerland etc) and even got elected to the executive of the British Neurosurgical Training Association. There is so much more and hopefully, some of the things that have happened to me during that time will get a mention soon.
My adventures might not be as rivetting as those of that great king of Ithaca, Ulysses, but they have been exciting all the same.
The most important change though is that I now see many things differently.
Welcome to Andy's new blog, where he speaks/writes his mind unashamedly!

Funny points...

2008-12-09T19:06:00.003Z

On average how much time of your life do you spend making cups to tea? The average person drinks 74,802 cups of tea in their lifetime. This equates to around 2,493 hours spent making tea. That's a long time.
What is the most remixed song ever?
It's 'I Feel Loved' by Depeche Mode. There are 862 known versions, but few are official releases.

Which landmark would Brits most like to have sex at?
Wembley Stadium toppled the list, followed by Stonehenge in second place and the London Eye in third.
Where is the smallest house in the UK?
The smallest house in the UK is a 6-foot wide house in Conwy, at the Quay, in north Wales. A 7-foot man once lived there - on his own.
What are the chances of a meteor crashing into the back of my head and giving me superhuman powers?
There's a 1 in 96 trillion chance - that's like winning the Lottery jackpot TWICE in a row. Good luck.
Which is the only country in the Europe where you can marry someone who's already dead.
According to French law, a marriage between a living person and a dead person can take place as long as it can be shown they had intended to marry.
What's the most bizarre experiment ever?
Stubbins Ffirth tried to prove yellow fever wasn't contagious by pouring infected vomit into his eyes, inhaling it, frying it and drinking it. He was wrong.
I was born in outer space - what nationality am I?
The Outer Space Treaty of 1967 follows the tradition of maritime law - you have the nationality of the spaceship you were born in.
How many words do you need to have invented your own language?
To create a language, you need 10,000 words or more. Volapuk was created in 1979-80 by Johann Martine Schleyer. Esperanto was created seven years later.

Knife on skin......

2008-11-25T23:06:00.008Z

I can still remember my first time in a dissecting room......sometime in 1998. The stench of formalin hit my nose and the deeper recesses of my brain real hard! We saw cadavers (dead bodies) on each of the dissecting tables, and wondered we had to add "butchering" to the already busy and scary syllabus we had. I don't think any one fainted..............even though there had been many stories flying around of how certain senior colleagues had fainted on their first day in the medical abattoir.

Without much ado, we started our dissection, we had to start with the lower limbs (legs) - study the anatomy (bones, muscles, arteries, veins and nerves) and learn as much as possible. We were in clusters of about twenty around each table. Seems funny now, but even in a few minutes the groups involuntarily subdivided themselves into smaller groups of the action-folk (those who did all the cutting), the stuff-movers (those who seemed to have read their anatomy books a million times) and the backbenchers (they peeped over the shoulders of the first two).

"Where did these bodies come from?" One of my classmates asked.

It was a question that came out of the blue and took us all off guard.

"Oooooh, I heard they are the bodies of armed robbers and the others are corpses that were never claimed"

The question was answered by XX. She always knew the latest news and gossips, so everyone just nodded in agreement. She had never been wrong, so why should today be an exception? Every evening for months, we all trudged like zombies after long days of lectures for our usual "cutting and talking". We finished the lower limbs in a few weeks, moved to the abdomen and then the thorax (chest). About three months later, we were up to the upper limbs. By now, it seemed they were no more catching armed robbers because we were running short of bodies. At some point, we only had the arms to work on. The bodies were regularly preserved with formalin, and even now the formalin could not cover up the "smell of death and rot". Formalin smell was soon replaced by some sort of rotten egg smell. Our friends and roommates, who were non-medical ran away from us when they saw us coming from the Anatomy area. Would you blame them?

Hmmmmm.........Pause. I think I may have disgusted not a few people with my intro., and even put off some doctors-to-be. I really hope not, because we also had a lot of good times them. More importantly, it was the beginning of the "surgeon-life" for some of us. The beginning of the "knife-on-skin" lifestyle.

Now I get into theatre and I am not fazed at all. A good part of that is due to the yesteryears. It is nothing compared to operating on a life patient, but I don't think I could have coped if I did not have that gradual transition process.

"Knife on Skin" - that is what my consultant says to inform the theatre nurses that we have started the surgical procedure. Surgery is all about practice, the more you do, the better you become - I think it is a bit like driving. Forgive the analogy! I am told there are some who never make good surgeons, surgery is not just coded in the genetic make-up.

Practice starts with the sutures, observing procedures (just watching), knowing the instruments and then assisting. Just like there are different types of surgeons, there are different types of teachers. Some are better than some others.

I will never forget when a certain teacher left me in the middle of a procedure to complete it on my own. I had observed and assisted in quite a number, but never taught I was going to get hands-on experience so soon. He handed the instruments to me and headed off. I took them in my hands and prayed for divine intervention. A million thoughts raced through my head. What should I do? How should I do it? Can I ask for help? What if I can't do it?

I think my whole life played out in the first few seconds. My fingers were trembling like I was connected to some electric grid. Sweat drops like beads formed on my forehead. To worsen matters, I was wearing surgical goggles and the mist that formed on it obscured my view. Oh my God!

Slowly and steadily, I made it. From the corners of my eyes, I could see the theatre staff - anaesthetists, scrub nurses etc waiting like forever for me to "close up". Anyway, after like semi-forever, I finished. I was grateful to God, to my ancestors, to my parents ( I am sure they must have been praying for me too)! Phew.

But as I changed out of my scrubs into my usual clothes, I thought to myself - "C'mon, if I had made it then many years ago in that Formalin-soaked room, I can make it anywhere".

Do you believe in Jazz?

2008-10-29T20:22:00.005Z

I have always treated "jazz"-related stories and experiences with so much scepticsm. For those who don't have a clue about what my intro. statement means, jazz is the same as african magic or voodoo. Come to think of it............why african magic? Why not european magic or american magic? Anyway, that's a story for another day?

Jazz has an international appeal, even though many think it is only widespread in Africa and South America. I came across a patient recently who told me how she tried some jazz-related treatment for her ailment. Popular programmes like Harry Potter, Charmed, Merlin, The Lord of the Rings etc show that "jazz" is not unheard of on the non-African side of the Atlantic.

A friend once said it's funny how Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone is not regarded as occultic but a yoruba home video film titled Hassan Ponle, Omo Babalawo (the herbalist's son) would be criticised by many as being evil.

My mum and grandparents used to tell me stories from their childhood experiences in the village - scary stories of herbalists and how some old hag changed to a wild animal (Beauty and the Beast, Snow White kinda stuff), but I always played it down as some "figment of imagination" cooked up to scare little children.

I still don't believe most of the stories, but I learnt to think twice before turning a blind eye.....when I meant Rilwan (not real name).

Rilwan was in his second year when I was in my last year of high school. He was a very troublesome chap and got into trouble so many times. There was this day he nicked some other guy's bag and got caught. He was reported to some of my mates and was scolded. Not mild scolding, some real CIA-style flogging! This went on for minutes and the guy did not even shed a tear. The Boy RSM (or head boy in civilian parlance) heard of this and took things up a notch. He got Rilwan drenched in water and got some brand new kobokos (horsewhips) to flog him.

From what I was told, he did not even feel the pain. After several hours of flogging, with his face motionless and the floggers quite fatigued...............someone had to ask him the 'all important question'.

"How come you don't feel any pain?"

"My grandfather boiled me"

"Boiled?"

He went on to narrate a story of how his grandfather had "cooked" his grandchildren (Rilwan inclusive) in some large pot of concoction to prevent them from feeling pain. The jazz had worked for him since then. By the time he finished his story, you could feel a broomstick drop.

Some months later, Spencer (a friend of mine) popped into my room to say hello and we started chatting. He sat on Mo's bed and soon got caught up in our long conversation. Mo was a junior boy who stayed in my room. I had no problems with him. As far as I was concerned, he was a nice chap.

Spencer got agitated and wanted to drive home a point, his hand felt something hard in the soft mattress he was sitting on. He looked at me with a look of surprise mixed with shock. We got a razor blade and cut through the mattress cover to get the object out.

It looked like a small purse, some snakeskin wrappings pierced with feathers and containing cowries. I was infuriated.................Had I been a victim of Jazz?

After a mild grilling session, Mo confessed that his mum had put it there after she bought the mattress. The charm was supposed to protect him from harm. Harm, my foot! I told him to pack his things and leave my room.

May God help us from Jazz!

Healthcare in two different worlds.....

2008-10-25T22:12:00.006+01:00

A few months ago, I was involved in a debate with a couple of friends about the health care system in Nigeria. The president of Nigeria, Umar Yar'Adua was out of the country for about 16 days because of an ailment. Reports said it was for the kidney problem he had been battling with even before he assumed office.

Abou a year before that, the former vice president, Abubakar Atiku was also flown to a private hospital in London after injuring his ankle in a gym. Gani Fawehinmi, the vocal barrister and Senior Advocate of the masses was also hospitalised in the UK for a while.

One of my most favourite TV presenters, Yinka Craig was transferred to a reputable U.S. hospital for treatment some months ago, for a serious ailment as well. The gist from the grapevine was that "those who called themselves friends" were not so helpful. I was so heartbroken to hear that he died! A minute's silence to a great man............

Why do we always have to get better healthcare from shores faraway? Don't get me wrong - if I have a loved one back home who is in some dire clinical state, I would fight tooth and nail for them to get flown out.

But why is our health care system so warped from top to bottom? Having worked as a doctor in Nigeria and in the UK has opened my eyes to several discrepancies. Can the gulf be bridged? My head tells me one thing, while my heart tells me something else.

Years ago, Aneurin Bevan fought for the NHS to take off amidst so much opposition. He wanted healthcare to be readily available to everyone. Yeah, it was at a cost....everyone had to be taxed but it has done so much to help the life expectancy rate of the population. Even colleagues in the American system admit that that the NHS wins "hands down" when compared to the US "insurance-tainted" structure.

Can Nigeria get to that stage? Can we build up an enviable healthcare system?

Compare the following scenarios........

A patient comes in with a suspected brain bleed and you need a CT scan to confirm your diagnosis. You brace yourself up, keep a straight face and pray to the Almighty to give you strength as you break this "bad news" to the family.

You tell the family that they would need to pay for a scan ( last time I checked, it cost about 40,000 naira - not a small amount for an average poor family). They cry and wail, and start calling family members in Lagos, Abuja, Oturkpo, Ilesha etcetera and maybe, get half the amount in two weeks when the patient has forgotten what Planet Earth looks like.

Somewhere else, if I drop four cards for CT scans in an hour, they would all get done ASAP. Most things get done in time, altho' there are still the long waiting times sha!

About thirty pregnant (very pregnant) women are crammed on mattress-less beds, with about 90% of them contracting and ready to "drop" soon. The nurses shout at them at intervals to keep quiet and stop moaning. When the nurses feel some baby's arrival is imminent, they tell the pregnant woman to pack all her belonings and run to the delivery room.

Believe me, I saw this with my two eyes in some small district hospital in Ibadan! Some unfortunate woman was told to run to the delivery room and her baby dropped in the connecting corridor. Eeeeeuuurgh!!!

Over here, an intravenous drug abuser (IVDU as we call them) is admitted with a large abscess on his finger. He had injected heroine into all available veins he could get in his body, and when that was no longer possible he went for a tiny one he could see on his finger. This got infected and he was at risk of losing his finger. Even though he was such a nuisance on the ward and was even caught trying to inject heroine AGAIN in the ward toilet, everyone had to be nice to him! You gat to respect and be nice even if the fellow does not deserve it.

I sincerely pray I would be a contributor to a better healthcare system in Nigeria and I hope you would be one too. What do you think?

Personally, I think our Naija leaders should get their priorities right and give healthcare the attention it deserves. Setting long term goals without any action to support it is useless! First, we said polio would have been eradicated in 2000 but we are one of the five most-infected countries. We joined the cry to have the Millenium Development Goals (MDGs) fulfilled by 2010...that's two years away and there is no way we are gonna make it.

Now I heard someone in the Senate mentioned 2020..........Not again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Power: Can you handle it?

2008-07-12T22:47:00.003+01:00

When power is mentioned, what comes immediately to most minds is greed, egocentricity or nepotism. Power can be very good, very good infact; that it so easily becomes a sucking leech that drains all the good from the power-monger. Examples abound - remember figures like Adolf Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin and of course, the man in the news - Mugabe. These are people who at some point abused power and assumed the role of “gods on earth”.

Abuse of power is the illegitimate use of power. It is that situation that exists whenever someone who has POWER over others, (that is, the capacity to impose his or her will on those others) for example, by virtue of his or her social position, physical strength, knowledge, technology, weapons, wealth, or the trust that others have in him or her, unjustifiably uses that power to exploit or harm those others, or through lack of action, allows exploitation or harm to occur to them.

Most rulers do not start off being power drunk – Stalin was once a likeable leader of the workers’ and peasants’ group, Hitler in his early days in office was praised everywhere for drastically cutting employment rates in Germany, cheering crowds gathered to Idi Amin’s first radio broadcast in which he promised to hand over power as soon as possible, while Mugabe who came to power in 1987 was widely regarded as a very intelligent and educated man (he had about seven university degrees before coming to office).

We all love popularity, positions, recognition, titles and degrees! Idi Amin used the titles - "His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshall Al-Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular." He was really some heck of a guy!

Wow! So is there some bug that compulsorily bites every office-holder, infecting them with some crazy bloodborne virus that rewires their brains and influences their major decisions? Or is there some Illuminati-type worldwide secret cult that forces all national leaders to comply with a set of nefarious orders? Can anyone really resist the lures or temptations that come with cabinet posts? Are we all powerless wimps that must succumb to these evil desires?

When in a position of power, either as a top government agent, CEO of a company or the head of the family, we should be able to control our privileges.
We should always remember that the power that happens to be thrust on us inadvertently, can so rapidly vapourize!

Just for Laffs......

2008-06-29T09:55:00.004+01:00

THIS IS JUST TOO FUNNY, Got this in my mail box from a friend.

READ EACH SENTENCE SLOWLY, It's an ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT PIECE. Some people just have a knack for thinking up all sorts..

Before marriage.... .

He: Yes. At last. It was so hard to wait.

She: Do you want me to leave?

He: No! Don't even think about it.

She: Do you love me?

He: Of course! Over and over!

She: Have you ever cheated on me?

He: No! Why are you even asking?

She: Will you kiss me?

He: Every chance I get.

She: Will you hit me?

He: Are you crazy! I'm not that kind of person!

She: Can I trust you?

He: Yes.

She: Darling!

After marriage.... SIMPLY READ FROM BOTTOM TO TOP.

Mischief of yester-years!

2008-06-06T21:09:00.003+01:00

Some weeks ago, my mum came visiting and since we had not seen each other in ages, there was so much to catch up on. It was fun, so much nostalgic memories to reminisce over! We talked about the family, my childhood tantrums and everything that mattered.

One particular story really amused me. Especially since this was the first time my mum was going to know the true details.

Now my mum used to be a very strict disciplinarian..........this trait simmered down with my younger siblings, I guess she put in her maximal input while dealing with me. Before you could say "Jinadu Ribadu", some whip or something with a similar function would appear from nowhere. The subsequent Tom-and-Jerry chase is better seen than imagined and I can even remember some neighbours at the time who heard me shout cheekily, and then asked themselves if I was really her child. The funny thing was....... I preferred the "Tom-and-Jerry chases" to "verbal wash-downs". A verbal dressing-down usually left me sober for weeks.

I can't really remember what I did this time (Can you blame me?), but my mum came home and got wind of it. Immediately, I knew I was in some real trouble.

"Aaaaaaaaannnnnnnddddddddddddddddddy!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Yes mummy" ( Quickly calling on God and my forefathers to come down and help their favourite son)

From some metres away, I could see she had gotten her koboko ready. A few lashes and pleadings later, God and the forefathers had still not come to my rescue, so I cooked up something myself. I never expected it to work so well, though!

I suddenly collapsed........all my life I had never fainted before, but my mischievous mind guessed I had to lie still and keep the whites of the eyes well exposed. A few body jerks were added for maximal effect.

I had never seen my mum so scared. She carried me in her arms, shouting my name repeatedly. I even started pitying her, I wanted to wake up but waking up at that moment would probably have earned some more lashes of the koboko.

My auntie added salt to injury by telling my mum, " I told you oooooh, one day you will kill him".

I chuckled silently to myself. Mumsie carried me all the way to the small clinic down the street, where the doctor examined me and certified me okay.

By this time, I had to wake up.....because I was scared the doctor might squeal on me! My relieved mum took me back home and cooked some delicious meal - I think it was poundo with egusi sef!

Now fast-forward a few years, since the "trial show" had worked well, I tried it again with a senior boy in secondary school. The guy wanted me to give him my shoes, and I blatantly refused. He was much bigger than me, and since I was quite small then.......it was a perfect David-Goliath mismatch.

He punched and slapped me like some Jet Li wannabe, and my small frame flew across the corridor. As soon as my butt landed on the floor, I went unconscious and started jerking furiously. You should have seen me, it was pure art at its best! (Laffs). Everyone, especially "Jet Li" got so scared. You could see and smell fear all over the place. He and his classmates carried me to their class and were at a loss of what to do. Fortunately for them, I produced some feeble coughs which brought delight to their faces. One of them got me a bottle of water and begged me not to report the guy who had "decked" me. After their pleas and bribes, they escorted me out towards my class.

As I stepped into my class, my mates who knew what I was capable of started hailing me.

"Phonetique! Phonetique!! Phonetique!!! (That was my nickname in secondary school)

You should have seen the spring in my step as I "bounced" to my seat.

The Blame Game!

2008-05-26T19:16:00.005+01:00

There are a few parallels common to the military and medical professions, but the commonest one, I suspect, might be the worst. It's an attribute I have noticed in nearly every hospital I have worked in - "The blame game". I guess it comes from the desire to go far in the profession, to please senior colleagues who hold your fate like "a thread wrapped around the little finger" and to ward off intense competition from fellow colleagues.

Sometime last year, I had to answer a query with one of my consultants (a query I was not really guilty of!). I reported to his office and since he was not around, I talked with his secretary instead.

"Someone else was a bit economical with the truth", I told her.

"Andy, if you want to go far in this profession, you have got to bitch about people"

I was really caught unawares, am sure my jaw defied gravity temporarily.

"C'mon, every one bitches. Look at all your seniors, they all do it"

"But I can't do that. To purposely put someone in a lot of trouble - it goes against my principles".

"I have been here for so long to know exactly what you need here".

She went on to tell me about a female registrar who faced a torrid time dealing with her colleagues, times when she cried or became really sad. The good thing was she had recently become a consultant somewhere down south.

That whole episode made me a bit wary of everyone, my paranoia took on a new fiery twist. I tried to watch my every move and scooped off any little info I could get from other medical staff (especially the nurses - they know about everyone!). It did work to some extent, but one can't really shut up the mouths of chatterboxes (not unless you staple them....honestly).

Anyway, two nights ago when I happened to be on call. One of the ward nurses called me about a patient who had been in a couple of weeks ago.

"Hi Andy, sorry to disturb you. Do you know Colin MCree (not real name)?

"Oh yeah, I do. What's wrong with him?

She went on to tell me that his symptoms had recurred and he was in so much pain. His mum had called the ward and was very bothered.

"I would say he should come up to the ward, but call my boss (one of the senior registrars) and clarify"

A few hours later while on the ward, I asked of the patient but was told the registrar had told them to go to a local casualty. Hmmm, that was odd.

The chap went to the hospital, but was still referred to us because the doctors there felt he had to be managed by us. I spoke to him and his family members, performed a minor procedure to treat the symptoms and prescribed some pain killers.

After the handing-over, at about 9am - the consultant in charge learnt about the patient. She asked who ordered the patient to go elsewhere and not come to us directly. Expecting my senior colleague to answer, I kept mute. No answer came forth - he made it seem it was me!

The consultant went on a mini-tirade of why she regarded the act as "bad patient care". No problem, I knew what to do. Call it an ace up my sleeve.

We got up to the ward, and she asked the nurse in charge which doctor issued the order. The nurse was explicit and called out the registrar's name. At this point, I told her I did not want to be rude when she asked the first time and that was why I kept quiet. Blind Respect! Another attribute common to doctors and soldiers.

A look at her face told me she felt guilty about blaming me earlier on. The other consultant on the round called me aside and praised me on how I dealt with the situation.

Phew! I guess I was lucky this time. Who knows what could have happened if I was not on the round or the nurse did not know the truth?

Anyway, God dey!

Six quirks I am guilty of!

2008-05-15T11:16:00.006+01:00

Since I have been tagged by Ejura and Funms, I had better get to work and think of some quirks that I am guilty of................

1. Now this first one started when I was about 8 years old. I try imagining most females I come across having bald heads. The resultant picture is not always a good one, but it is always so funny!

I still remember the "edited image" of my female primary school Fine Arts teacher - I think hers was the first one to be processed.

2. If I am talking with you about something - no matter how important or trivial it is, I imagine the extremes of the scenario (from the very good to the very bad). Take for example, we talk about some random guy driving a Mazda 626..... I could imagine him suddenly winning a lottery and buying a Ford Mustang sports car or fatally bashing his Mazda into some massive iroko tree.

3. I think I have got some mild OCD......I love to see my things exactly where I leave them. I always want my clothes ironed with all creases off, I reflexly delete my email messages or text messages immediately after I have read them.

It irks me greatly to see a full inbox! Is that normal?

4. Remember Marcus Graham (Eddie Murphy's character in the 1992 film - Boomerang)? He always looked at people's feet. I am a bit like that, I always inspect people's feet when I can. Bad feet kinda turn me off.......chipped nails, corns, misshapen toes et al.

5. I never never drop the toilet seat! That is not a quirk, is it? Most guys I know don't as well. Why drop it, when you can save yourself the stress of putting it up the next time? Moreover, it's not the cleanest object around!

6. I comb my hair about a million times a day. It's so bad, I carry a small comb in my back pocket everywhere I go. If I haven't combed my hair in a couple of hours, I start feeling very edgy and agitated.

To worsen matters, I then check myself in the mirror just to be sure everything is alright. My house is full of mirrors - the living room, bedroom, passageway etc. I was the butt of jokes in Uni....since I couldn't get in and out of a room without checking myself out in a mirror. Large ones, handheld ones, broken side mirrors from cars............anyone, just give me the mirror!

In-hospital Crushes???

2008-04-25T09:35:00.003+01:00

On one of the busy wards in the hospital where I work, there is this ward secretary who claims to have a crush on me. She makes it known everytime she sees me, and all the ward nurses usually tease me about it. If my skin weren't as rich in melanocytes as I know it is, I probably would have been a frequent blusher every time I enter that ward.
However it does have its perks......She never turns down my requests when I need a favour (hospital-related requests ooooh, nothing else). I also think she puts in a good word for me sometimes. (Anyway, maybe I am not too sure about that, but I think so)
Coping with crushes isn't a big problem but what happens when it begins to piss you off? That scenario played out some days ago on the same ward, but not the same person - it was some new patient!
I came onto the ward and was told by the charge nurse that there was this new patient who was scheduled for an assessment because she had a small tumour in her pituitary gland (some gland beneath the brain). The woman was in her forties, short and with big eyeballs. She went on further to tell me that the woman came in very breathless, and she was told she smokes about 85 cigarrettes per day. 85???
I went in to examine her and carried out some tests. We arranged quite a number of other tests because her breathing was not good. I strive to be the ideal doctor, so early the next morning as I got into the ward I checked on her and asked my usual friendly questions - "How are you today?" "Did you have a nice sleep?" etc. (Maybe that was my mistake!)
Later in the day, one of the senior nurses called me. She wanted to tell me something very important.
"Andy, someone on the ward likes you"
"Who is that?" I asked (probably wishing it was some young beautiful patient...lol)
"I know I should not be telling you this but it is XYZ"
I nearly fainted!
"She says she really likes you and would want to get to know you"
"Really?" I asked while trying to keep a very straight face
"I told her you probably will be scared of a Glaswegian woman"
As usual, she went on to tell all the nurses and some of my senior colleagues as well, making me the butt of several jokes.
I tried taking my mind off the whole thing by flipping through some case notes, I had a lot of work to do. Unfortunately, the woman strolled in and everyone went quiet.
"Hi Andy"
"Hi XYZ" It was a cold response.
"Don't you want to talk to me?"
"C'mon, why wouldn't I want to?"
"I was wondering whether you would come over to my bed to see me"
%&^%&^&*&%$%^£%^. Oh my gosh!
From the corner of my eyes, I could see the nurses trying their best not to laugh.
"Would you give me a hug?"
I don't think I have ever had to give a hug against my will before. There is always a first time, I guess.
She strolled off after the hug and everyone started laughing again.
The ward secretary (the one who usually had a crush for me) stuck the dagger in. Guess what she said?
"Andy, is that the kind of woman you can pull?"
I am sure that was jealousy, pure jealousy.
The next day, I tried sneaking into the ward but alas..........it was of no use.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Andy" In a very seductive tone.
"Hi" I replied before running off and allowed someone else to cover the ward.

Where is dat Tee-Vee now?

2008-03-19T20:44:00.003Z

I haven't read blogs in a while, but as I scrolled through some now I can feel the hands of "blogomania" creeping again over me. Damn, some of us might be addicted like the junkies in American Gangster - what's wrong with me today sef, comparing blue magic to blogging.... I tire oooh.

If I am an addict, then what should I call the ogbologbo pros like Princesa, Ejura, Naapali, Arewa, Ugo, Solomonsydelle, Isi, Afrobabe etcetera? I do not even know what to write, but I must blog by force, by force today. Should I blog about myself? No - that's self-glorification; What about something at work? No - I have done that in the past already; What about married life then? Hmmmm, not yet....very soon.

Can I blog about fellow bloggers then? Hmmmm, let me finish my research first and then spring a shocker on them all. Maybe I should write on Obama since I want him to win? No, it might too boring for blogville.

I take a glance sideways at my TV, its not on but I can hear the sound of the one upstairs. My wife is watching another movie. I had to put this one off to concentrate today, it is usually on since I have been watching too much TV recently. The TV is a Toshiba, quite unlike the first TV we had in my house when I was young. That one was a Grundig, one of the many household items that Popsie brought back with us from the UK. Do they still make Grundig TVs? I really don't know. It was a colour TV, but only had the UHF channels so I never got to watch Voltron or Terrahawks on NTA. I had to feed off the gist at school. This TV had a 'remote' as big as my laptop. Okay, I am exaggerating...but it was about half the size of my laptop. Honestly!!!

Anyway, it really stood out in our living room until they came knocking. Who??? Armed robbers, of course. We were all fast asleep - my parents were in the headquarters, my aunt slept in the guestroom while we, the kids stayed in the nest. The robbers got to the window of the guestroom and removed the window panes one by one without waking my aunt up. It is still a wonder how she did not wake up - maybe she had an overdose of diazepam before sleeping? This was around 2am. My siblings said they came out of their bedroom around this time and went to the toilet, but they also heard nothing. Anyway, the "men of the night" got through the netting and panes and jumped into the room. Still, my narcolepsy-ridden aunt was dreaming away.

Two of them tip-toed into the living room and went for the Grundig. Our old and faithful Grundig. The first teacher to some of my siblings, the medium through which we got to Sesame street, the TV with the big 'remote'. Ooooooh, how I miss the Grundig right now!

The muscular one carried the TV and started to tiptoe back to the guestroom. The other thief went ahead of him and paused momentarily to pick up a suitcase. Now this suitcase was a special one! It contained my aunt's clothes......all her clothes. At that moment, she woke up. She wanted to scream but when she saw the stern looks on their faces, she froze. However, she still managed to let out a small shriek of some sorts.

By this time, the Grundig was safely out of its beloved home. My ever-alert dad heard the small noise and marched out. Oooooh he was such a hero...with his bright and shining armour and blazing sword. Okay, no dreaming.......He had his white wrapper around him and his wife strolling behind him. As they got to the corridor just adjacent to the guestroom, my mum shouted, "Jesus, where are you?" (I have never forgotten those words). The guy carrying the suitcase flung it at my dad's chest and scurried through the window. My heroic dad tried to chase after them but my mum pulled him back. I don't think she believed his chest could repel bullets. I agree!

My mum set the ball rolling, "Thief, thief, thief", and after about thirty minutes our house was jampacked with sympathisers and neighbours. Everyone had a different theory and follow-up plan. One even came in, strolling majestically with a gun straddled against his shoulder. If he had met the thieves, e for no pose like dat ooooh.

Bye Grundig! Wherever you are, I miss you. Popsie did not even seem bothered for a while but after we pestered him because we were starved of TV programs, he bought a small black-and-white TV for us. At least, this one had VHF and UHF channels so we could watch NTA.

About a month later, I got home from school and saw a big colour TV with a slick and smaller remote control. It also had VHF and looked really cool, but I still missed the old faithful Grundig.

German dose!

2008-02-06T22:11:00.000Z

I would never forget the day..........The date was April 15 and it was over a decade ago, but the memories are still as fresh as ever. We were in final year of secondary school and had just come back from the Sallah break. It was our last Sallah break as boys of the Nigerian Military School so we had made up our minds we were going maximise the fun as much as possible.

However, the gist from the grapevine was that our examination results would be released during the break so that took some steam off our smoking cylinders!!! Of course, there was so much anticipation and tension. On the day of resumption, three of us met to discuss some of the scores - we were close friends but also academic rivals all jostling for the "best boy in academics prize". Each of us secretly prayed to be the one who would be called forward at the passing out parade to receive the golden fleece. We laughed, joked and teased.....I had no idea what was in store for me later that day.

We had talked so much that we forgot we were late for tattoo. Tattoo is a military parade where everyone assembled to be checked - absentees were usually dealt with. Anyway, we were senior boys so we weren't really fazed. We started strolling down the main road and were met by Cpl. M and some other soldiers.

"Would you boys double?" (Double means to jog or run)

We just laughed and just "bounced" with an added air of arrogance. C'mon, don't these guys know we are senior boys?

One of us seemed to be the most stubborn, so he turned out to be the scapegoat and they kept shouting on him. I just kept strolling on until I got to the parade ground.

Maybe I should have done the same thing my "stubborn friend" did. But I didnt and I paid dearly for it. My friend who had been shouted upon did not go to the parade ground, he just took a detour and headed back to his room.

Some people are crazy and Cpl. M was no exception. A few minutes into the tattoo parade, he suddenly remembered my friend and started looking for him. When he couldn't get him and saw me instead, he decided to unleash the venom on me.

He asked for my friend's name but since I was bound by the "big boys' loyalty covenant", I gave him a false name which only made his search more difficult and amusing. After about an hour of futility, I guess his intellectual faculties came to life and he realised what I had done.

He reported me to the officer on duty and I was called out in front of the whole school. As I "bounced out", they both took a look at my trousers and large buckle belt. This was not surprising because as a senior boy, it was fun to break the rules so I usually wore black trousers (instead of the recommended blue) with a large brown buckle belt with metallic studs. Youthful exuberance, I hear you say!

Cpl. M told me to "double" again. This guy must be high on something oooh. What is his own with this doubling thing?

I was not bothered about him or the officer. I was more bothered about my reputation. To double in front of the whole school? You gotta be joking!

They shouted and complained but I just couldn't be bothered. Then a bulb lit up in their heads!!!

"Remove your trousers!"

"What!!!"

The look of disbelief I had was immediately wiped off with several cracks of koboko (horsewhip). These soldiers were known for their kobokos, they usually bought new ones monthly and had them starched for maximal effect.

"Who do you think you are?" Twai Twai Twai

I eventually had to remove my trousers and thank goodness, I had my boxer shorts on.

"Take him to the guard room"

Now that was the height of it all. The guard room? The guard room was the prison, with bars et al where the bad boys were sent. I had kept a good record all throughout my six years and these elephantic-orangutans were gonna spoil everything.

Couldn't complain much and so immediately after the tattoo, I was whisked to the guard room.

I sent messages to my friends, some to appeal to the officer on duty to release me and the others to bring a blanket and some mosquito-repelling cream for my guard room stay.

Cpl. M was not satisfied yet. He came to the guard room with four of his goons and started abusing me.

He shouted in Hausa...roughly translated, "How dare you lie to me?"

"We are going to give him German dose?"

German dose.......oh no! That was everyone's nightmare. I couldn't even believe it when a teardrop trickled down my left cheek. God help me!

They dragged me under my shower, with me wearing only a T-shirt and my boxer shorts. This was the preparatory phase of the German dose and helped the clothes to stick closely to the skin - causing maximal pain from the koboko lashes.

From the shower, I was pulled in the central area - some sort of exhibition for all the cell inmates. Cpl. M and his goons surrounded me and started lashing out at me with their whips. It was like a scene from a horror film.

I tried dodging under a nearby motorbike only to be dragged out again. The flogging continued for about an hour. A really long hour!!!!

With my body sore all over, I just collapsed in a heap on the cell floor. Thankfully, my friends came in a few minutes later with an order from the officer on duty that I should be released.

With a lot of heaving and limping, I eventually got to my room. I had to cope with the body pains for about a week. April 15...a date I would never forget!

To worsen matters, I left my trousers and my leather belt in the guard room. I never got them back.

Lest I forget, Cpl. M apologised to me a few days afterwards. Am sure he had finished sniffing the stuff he was on by then, if only he knew how much I wanted to strangle him.

Finally........

2008-01-23T18:15:00.000Z

The topic of this post does not have anything to do with my eventual putting up of a post after a prolonged period of hibernation. It is about something much more important than that! I can't believe I have become blog-lazy recently, first it was my trip home, then I got overwhelmed with so much work and then, I just became lethargic. Maybe it is the cold, someone said it's because I just got married. Me sha, I don't know but I think I am back, for real this time.
One thing though, I always miss blogville....It's crazy, how can you miss people you have never seen.

About three months before I went back to my "real home", Africa's most populous country - I started feeling anxious, a bit of apprehension mixed with elation. I hadn't seen my girlfriend (now my wife) in 5 months and I had not seen my parents in about two years. I just could not wait to get to Naija. Suddenly, work became so boring and the time seemed to move at snail-speed. Or maybe it was because I was going to get married - the fear of the responsibilities? But who wouldn't want to marry my wife? Too pretty for words!!! Aaaah meeeen, I gotta marry her sharp sharp!

Anyway, the day finally landed and I landed at the Murtala Muhammed Airport in Lagos. I knew it was going to be hot so I wore one of my new suits, instead of my usual black jacket - my numero uno outdoor wear in Glasgow. At least, that would not look strange in wintry London or sunny Lagos; no one would look strangely at a guy in a suit. I took a look at my phone with the glo sim card, I couldnt believe my eyes - it still worked. The same phone I used in Naija in 2005 still worked. Good gracious! I called Vatia and told her we had touched down. Hopefully I would get to see her in about 20 minutes after I had cleared my stuff at the counter.

20 minutes my foot! First of all, everyone rushed for the trolleys and fights started off in various corners of the airport. I just could not be bothered, I would not rush with everyone. Were these not the same people who were all "posh" some hours ago in London. I felt a voice in my head telling me, "Meeen, Andy, welcome to Naija".

As if that was not enough, we all waited for hours before we could get our luggage. Vatia and my parents kept calling and all I could tell them was, "I have seen one, but I am still waiting for the other ones ooooh". All these in the midst of murmurings - people whispering in hushed tones scared that their luggage might have disappeared into thin air.

After about two hours, I got my stuff and wheeled them out to meet my loved ones. As I stepped into the ever-familiar air of Lagos, my mum and mum-in-law ran, both trying to outdo each other to welcome me. Meeeeen, they no even allow the first lady come hug me first! Na waaaah, I felt special as I was engulfed in the motherly hugs and pats. I had planned to prostrate as a true Yoruba chap. An act I had not performed in years, but they no gree. Thank God!

It was wonderful seeing everyone, there was so much to talk about. Things hadn't really changed, they were very much the same. One thing that had definitely not changed.......Lagos traffic. I got to my hotel room about two hours after I left the airport. Hmmmm. The gist was that they were adding BRT lanes and that worsened the movement of traffic. Indeed!!!

My time at the hotel was cool, I did not feel the scourge of NEPA more than a few minutes so it was not so bad. I kept thinking of the cold weather in Glasgow. God is wonderful ooooh, one place is so cold and another is so hot!

By the next day, wedding plans started in full gear. My plan to come in a week before my wedding paid good dividends because my lovely wife and family had done most of the ground work. I know some of you are thinking............Hmmmmm, sharp guy! Sincerely though, it was not my fault; there was no way I could have gotten a longer leave. So hope y'all understand?

I should not bore you with all the details of how we ran all over Lagos preparing for the D-day, but in no time....................I was dancing at the Engagement and saying "I do" as I held her slender fingers. I really did enjoy myself. Couldn't believe I was so ecstatic, all the anxiety and apprehension had disappeared. Finally, after six years of going out with my 'baby', I was getting the meal (no, I wanted to type "medal") today.

With all the singing and praising at the reception.........only one thought kept dancing up and down in my head! I just wanted both of us to disappear.

By half past 5, it was all over. We changed from the formal suit and gown into some very simple stuff and drove off. Hmmmm, I am not telling you what happened next!

Funny, but true...ha ha ha!!!

2008-01-08T23:26:00.000Z

A friend sent this article and it made me laff....

When girls don't put out!!

This was written by a guy... it's pretty damn smart. I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.

FOR EXAMPLE: One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed. Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says, 'I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me.' I said, 'WHAT??!! What was that?!' So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear... 'You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man.' She responded to my puzzled look by saying, 'Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I d o for you in the bedroom?' Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.

The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take, so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said, 'Lets get a pair for each outfit.' We went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you... she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis. I think I threw her for a loop when I said, 'That's fine, honey.' She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation, she finally said, 'I think this is all dear, let's go to the cashier.'

I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, 'No honey, I don't feel like it.' Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled, 'WHAT?' I then said, 'Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman.' And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, 'Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for thethings I buy you?' Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either.... but at least she knows I'm smarter than her.

Enjoy!!!

Taking a chill pill!!!

2007-12-05T23:21:00.000Z

Been so busy running all over the place and I haven't had time to do many things.....like blogging.

Am sure everyone who's wondering what's keeping me away from posting would be updated very soon.

Hopefully I will be back before Xmas.....can't wait to be back in blogville again!

Racism...or what do you call it?

2007-11-14T22:09:00.000Z

Now what set me thinking about this "term" that everyone thinks of but no one wants to talk about..... I really don't know! I think it was because some people commented on it in my last post.

Have I been a victim of racist comments or attitudes? I think so. I will run through a few scenarios, and tell me what you think.

Scenario 1

We had this 70-something year old patient who we had operated on the day before, he had become really agitated on the ward and needed antipsychotic drugs to calm him down. A few nurses had to hold him down as he struggled to climb out of his bed From a mile away, I could hear his loud voice booming through the silent corridors - he was swearing and cursing.

As I stepped into the ward, he saw me and shouted "Blackkie, get out of here". He repeated it a number of times and I just smiled. (You know those plastic smiles that would make a doll go green with envy). The nurses felt embarrased and tried harder to calm him down but he just bit and kicked them.

I left them and attended to other patients, while another of my colleagues reviewed him. A few minutes later, the nurses asked me why I did not come to help them.

"C'mon, he verbally assaulted me" was my curt reply.

"Oooooh, but he verbally and physically assaulted us too"

"It was not the same". Speedily replacing the fake smile with a frown - they recognized the cue to stop asking stupid questions.

People show their true selves when they are not fully conscious, like when they are drunk or even psychotic. The experience only confirmed my thoughts that most of these folk smile at you everyday, when deep inside, they really dislike your guts.

Scenario 2

One of my bosses hates me to bits. I have tried to think of a reason, but can't really get one. Could it be that he still remembers the greenhorn who worked there months ago? But, the greenhorn chap has become more experienced and better...so why does he still act like he's got anal stenosis?

He was operating sometime ago and asked a senior colleague of mine some intricate neurosurgical question. The guy failed to answer the question, so I answered it instead. As soon as the answer dropped from my lips, he stopped talking. What did I do again?

So I waited a while, and then asked my own question.

"Andy, this is not the right time to ask a question" The coldness was enough to give me frostbite.

Some months before, he had also written a bad reference letter for me - I just kept it and asked another referee (I was so depressed for days afterwards, I had to even discuss the whole thing with another boss).

Sometimes, I feel like walking up to him and asking him why he acts that way...but it might just cause more chaos. Or what do you think? At least, I see him relate to other people and he is a different person with them.

Scenario 3

Have you ever sat in a bus filled with "white humans", and no one wants to share your seat with you? Well, it happened to me before I got my car and got spared the torture. However, that all changes if you enter the bus with some of your own "white friends".

Sometimes, my extroverted self reveals itself and I sit with any lonely figure and start off a conversation. I really don't care, if you want, stand up and leave....but they usually settle down and really chat!

I thought it was me being paranoid but it has happened to many other friends of mine, and you really need to imagine people standing in a bus when there's just one more empty seat (next to you).

I could have added some more but I think I would just stop there. These experiences make me stronger and only spur me on to be the best I wanna be. Who cares what anyone says or thinks? They all make me remember what I read in one of Ben Carson's books....when some of his patients exhibited racist attitudes to him.

What if.........???

2007-11-06T12:26:00.000Z

It's funny what many of us blog about. Sometimes, its about our life experiences, sometimes fiction and some other times - we just want to pour out those crazy thoughts earnestly crying to get out of our heads.

Personally, my blog-lifestyle took a backseat recently because I have so much to do. You know when it seems like there is so much weighing you down and you get so confused on how to prioritise them. Awful feeling!!!

Anyway, this post is about some niggling thoughts I have had for a wee while..............

What if you don't read the next few lines? - Then probably someone else would.

What if I had been born a few years earlier? - Then I would have grown up thinking "large ear muffs connected to some weird walkman" was cool.

What if I was born much later? - Then I would have a lot of difficulty imagining a world without "google", "ebay", "amazon", "facebook", "blogville" and mobile phones. Must have been hard!

What if I had tried venturing into Hollywood? - Then the whole world would be quick to say "Move over Denzel, its Andy time"

What if the world is gonna end in a few week's time? - Then I would beg God to please hold on till after my wedding night.

What if I was not the first born? - Then I would not have had the opportunity of being pampered by my Momma. (If my sisters see this ehn)

What if I did not become a doctor? - Hmmmmmmm, I really don't know.

What if I become the president of Nigeria? - Then Nigeria would be the envy of the world; economically, technologically etc.

What if Eddie Murphy had not turned down the major role in 'Top Gun'? - Then Tommy Cruise might not have become a star.

What if Britney had not fallen for K-Fed? - Then maybe she wouldn't have become a bit of a psycho.

What if Naija and Yankee swap all their inhabitants? - I don't want to imagine it!!!!! (Do you?)

What if the colonial masters never set foot on African soil? - Then Africa, especially in the 60s would have been more peaceful.

What if I won a lottery for a million pounds? - A month of rest, hands off the cash and just revelling with the thoughts of how much money I have.

What if I show up as a contestant on X-factor? - Don't let me tell you what the nurses on the wards say; but I'm better than they think.

What if the cheetah had drank the Lucozade in the advert? - They would never allow that on TV.

What if Obama becomes the president of the US? - Then maybe racism is finally over.

A Letter to Lucie Farr

2007-10-26T11:34:00.000+01:00

Lucie Farr,
999 Doom Street,
Black Hades Gardens.
JN10 10KJV
United Kingdom.

Dear Friend,

So many good things have been happening all over the world and you need to be informed. I have been postponing writing this letter but the United Nations meeting I attended last week in Riga brought me back to my senses. We have to act fast and the best time is NOW!!!
The children of our Enemy are in disarray presently and they have become clueless, but that does not mean we should rest on our oars. We should strike them continuously until they have their backs totally to the wall.
It is a pleasurable feeling when you think of how similar to Sodom and Gomorrah this present world has become. Same sex marriages are given top priority in most countries, nations are battling each other with nuclear weapons, terrorism has stricken fear in the hearts of many and divorce has become fashionable as marriages break up soon after solemnisation. Man and woman now live together like it was in the Garden of Eden, even without being married. Oooooooh, its wonderful news I have for you!!! So many failed marriages, so many children out of wedlock – can it get any better than this?
To make things better for us, most of the Enemy’s children are not interested in leading their nations. To them, politics is for the dirty-minded. We don’t have to deal with upright people like Moses, Abraham, David and Elijah anymore. Those were people of the yesteryears who caused changes and kept us on our toes. I smirk in annoyance when I remember them (especially that roughshod Elijah). The people at the top nowadays are not interested in the welfare of the citizenry; all they want is to fill their deep pockets with ill-gotten wealth and lucre. They kill each other for government positions and tell lies with so much dexterity and skill.
Lucie, they even have an official name for lying – it’s called “political correctness”. They do everything under the label of political correctness.
The people we are scared of are more bothered about the financial debts they have to deal with and the emotional baggage we have poured on them. They gather together in hushed tones; hushed tones that are not even loud enough to kill a scrawny ten year old rat! My servants in the top government positions make all the decisions unchallenged – decisions on marriages, abortions, social life and especially in political matters. Last month I had a meeting with 976 of the world’s leaders and only 5 of them were the Enemy’s children. About 40% did not even know anything about the Enemy.
Everything shown on today’s TV has our endorsement boldly written all over it. The films they watch have lots of sex, violence and occultism that they fail to differentiate what is wrong from what is right. There are regular reports of schoolchildren who go crazy and shoot their classmates as they practise what they learnt on TV. A recent blockbuster movie with occultic undertones was a massive hit worldwide and the kids loved it so much. I have even structured the entertainment industry in such a way that the only songs and movies that sell are the ones that have lewd lyrics and advertise sex.
The horror movies of the 1980s now look like comedies or soap operas. The new horror movies are similar to what you have in Black Hades Gardens……..so much blood and evil!!! The people are changing and they are really becoming like us! Even a toddler can now watch a horror movie and go to bed smiling.
The children of the Enemy are scared to speak out in their places of work or even in their homes. They quiver in their boots and they make me smile. They shout in their place of worship once a week, go back home lethargic only to return in a week’s time to continue with the ritual. None of them remembers the Great Commission, making our job extremely easy. During the week, you can’t tell the difference when you see them mixing with our children. There is something wrong with them from the neck up and they have forgotten that their Father has the solutions.
My officers have made most people addicted to the internet. The internet is a beautiful tool that links everyone together; it makes the whole world a small community. We spread lots of pornography and falsehoods over this powerful tool, and it is speedily gobbled up by these innocent ones. The time they should have spent building up their reserves as they read HIS BOOK is spent in front of computers, so you can imagine how powerless they have become.
I am fast using up all the resources and connections you provided so I would need reimbursements before the Enemy’s children wake up and spoil all the work I am doing.
This is an urgent recorded delivery since I don’t want it to be stumbled upon by any of the Enemy’s children. Hurry up, the world is ours for the taking!!!

Your Strategic Officer,
Prof. Belial Distroya Esq.

Some doctors do 'ave them Part II

2007-10-17T23:19:00.000+01:00

Meeeeeeeeeeeeen! I have missed blogville, it has been a very busy last couple of weeks and I have just been labelled incommunicado by most people. Work and moving houses have been major reasons - Moving houses deprived me of having access to one of my addictions (internet surfing). It is funny how this generation has become dependent on things like the internet and mobile phones; pleasures that were unheard of a few years back!

Anyway, am back and I have to write something. What better thing to write about than my work - my work life sometimes get so consuming or even one-tracked but you get to see so many patients, and that just spices it all up! They are so different and sometimes, so funny.

Patient A
One of the nurses popped in and mentioned that a new patient had just come in for admission, so I grabbed the casenote and trudged down to the cubicle. As I opened the door, there were two people in the room - there was a beautiful lady sitting on the bed while an elder one sat on the adjacent chair. The patient (obviously the one on the bed) was smiling sheepishly at me as I introduced myself. The older woman had to be the Mum!
A few questions and I got my first shock - my patient was a 14 year old girl! If I did not have the details in the casenote to confirm, I would not have believed it myself. She seemed to be a full grown woman, although her persistent glances at her mum as she answered every question made her immaturity more evident.
Soon afterwards I had to do a quick general examination, and she just blushed and chuckled annoyingly. What da heck? Typical female teenager - epitome of self-consciousness!!!
Halfway through the examination, I asked for the medications she was taking. The first one was no surprise - it was required for the ailment she presented with. However, the second one jolted me a little bit.
"Contraceptive pills"
"Whaaaaaaat?" Maybe 14 is not so young afterall.
I just smiled and immediately asked my follow-up question. "Do you know the specific type?"
"Erm, No" She looks at her mum again for an answer. None came.
My brain was engaged in all sorts of mental calculations but my smiling face was the perfect camouflage.
Patient B
He was transferred as an emergency from a nearby hospital because he had a bleed in the brain. From day one, we all knew he was a different kind of patient. Usually dressed in a Japanese kimono, he never wanted to lie on his bed even though we drummed it into his ears that he had to remain on his bed because of his condition.
Over the weekend, in response to his nicotine cravings, he suddenly lit a cigarrette stick on the ward and started smoking. On the ward!!! Just in case you don't get the full drift - imagine a ruddy-faced middle-aged man, bare chested in a gay-looking kimono smoking away on a hospital bed. Of course there was shock on everyone elses's faces.
As if that was not enough, he absconded from the ward a few hours later. No one knew where he had gone! Not long after, the rumours drifted in from the grapevine that he had been found drinking in a pub not too far from the city centre. The guy just had "rebel" written all over him.
Life is a paradox, you know! This guy improved despite his disobedience and was promptly discharged soon after, even earlier than those who had the same condition and obeyed our orders to the letter.
Patient C
Now this is someone who could advertise for any tobacco company, he was a walking chimney! We never saw him on his bed during the ward rounds because he was out somewhere smoking. Infact, there was a day, one of my senior colleagues had to go downstairs to review him at his smoking joint! He just could not do without a stick in his mouth. 80 cigarrette sticks everyday....wow. The first day I saw him, only one word sprung to mind. "Gaunt" . He was so thin, I could bet the waist size of his jeans was 16. If only he could save the pounds he was spending on cigarrette packs, he would be so rich. But I guess, we all make our choices.
Different strokes for different folk.

So maybe hospital life is full of fun afterall or what do you think?

Happy Birthday Mum!!!

2007-09-27T20:00:00.000+01:00

Nothing could stop me from calling you at 12 midnight, and even though you sounded really sleepy and tired.......hearing you laugh at my attempts at singing the "Happy birthday song" was enough to make me forget all my troubles. My heart welled up with pride.
I had waited all day to be the first to say the words, "Happy birthday". May you live to see many more years, to see your grandchildren and great-grandchildren! Amen!
I have always had a soft spot for you and I am sure you know that. From the day the word "Mama" fell out from my cute 4 month old mouth, the foundation for a deeply entrenched affection had been set.
Of course you were strict, very strict; but am I complaining? No. The seeds of those yesteryears have borne fruit and will still bear more fruit. I still remember when you scolded me if I did not come out tops in schol exams, ensuring strict bedtimes when all I wanted to do was watch TV, giving me books to read when I incessantly craved for the acrobatics on the playground etc. Thinking back retrospectively, with my innate wild streak, I only imagine what could have been if I did not have you as Mom. I can still remember when I pretended to have fainted after you scolded me during one of my kiddie tantrums. You screamed and carried me in your arms all the way to the hospital. I have never repeated the act since my heart melted at seeing you so heartbroken.
I would never forget your tears-ridden face when I got back from boarding school with an empty box and a bumpy head. You did not even bat an eyelid about the box or the missing contents, your thoughts were all about the bumps on my head and the scary truths that I would soon have to go back. I always looked forward to geeting the hugs and filling my belly with your "out-of-this-world" delicacies. The aroma of your food could bring a smile to the world's worst tyrant.
"Who taught you how to cook?" I always wondered. It must have been a gift from heaven. Dad had the best meals though, lucky man!
You taught me the meaning of the word "sacrifice". You could give up anything for me, everything about me was priority for you. Whenever I fell sick, it was like you shared it with me.
Your advice, our talks, your laughters ..........how I crave for them. It's difficult being far way, you know. You wanted the best for us, your kids and it was glaring for the world to see.
I know I have been crazy a lot of times, but am sure you know that I really love you. The love I have for the world's best mum is immense.
We have had our odd spells too. can you remember when I gave a speech at your 50th birthday and said, "My Mum is the female I love most, at least for now until I meet .........."
I laugh now when I remember how your face changed. Don't worry, you know I will always love you.
I LOVE YOU MUM!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Awwwww, the weekend is over!

2007-09-18T00:14:00.000+01:00

Last week, I made an "out-of-the-blues" decision to chill out in London over the weekend since I hadn't travelled down since my younger sister's wedding. I had planned to catch up with a couple of friends I had not seen in ages, but just as abruptly as I set up my plans I cancelled my trip. I would however go to London on my next call-free weekend, and that is in two weeks.

So what did the weekend have in store for me? Lots of stuff I had postponed all week - getting lots of rest, working on an audit with Kieran, completing my 'Maximised Manhood' manual, writing my articles for the NLS magazine etc.

As I lay under my duvet late Friday night, I hoped for two things - that Arsenal (my boys) would trash Tottenham in the derby on Saturday and that Maxwell would be voted out of the Big Brother Africa 2 house. Now it may surprise you how I seem to know the events in the house, but since someone mentioned the website to me a few weeks ago, checking the website has become a pastime whenever I am bored.

The weather on Saturday was not a pleasant one - it was a typical glaswegian one but I still managed to go shopping. Sometimes shopping just gives you some vibes, you know! I got back only to find out that Tottenham was leading us one-nil. What da ** $%!!

A friend came to visit me later in the day and as we were chatting I checked up the latest from the match and heard a presenter mention the "comeback kids". Arsenal had won three-one, I jumped animatedly for about ten minutes. Am I getting crazier or what?

The evening was spent watching "The Good Shepherd" starring Mattt Damon and Robert De Niro. It was a good film with Damon as a CIA operative who trusted no one. One of his statements struck me though! He was talking to an Italian-American who had been complaining of how he was treated in the US, and then Damon's character says something like "We are the real Americans, the rest of you are just visiting". Anyway, whether dem like am or dem no like am, Naija people go everly enter! (excuse my pidgin).

At about 9pm, I travelled to work on the audit with Kieran, one of my colleagues at work. Got back at 10.30pm just in time for my babe's call. No time to cook so just ordered a pizza...........aaaah and I have promised to always cook oooh! Some habits just die hard, or maybe never die!

Sunday - Woke up late and rushed to church. It was still raining, this Glasgow sef! Got back and started writing my NLS articles. Finished the first one after about two hours of editing and editing. It felt like my muses deserted me afterwards so I postponed writing the other one. I would do that later when they come back (My muses, I mean).

I felt a mild headache so I decided to take a nap, after making a few phone calls. By the time I woke up and checked the BBA2 website, Maxwell had been voted out. All my wishes have been granted, maybe I should just added a wish about getting £10,000 this weekend instead of just those two!!!!

And that's how my weekend sped past, I did not even trip at all and it's over already. Now I am back at work on the emergency 12pm -12am shift, and the first patient I saw was a 60ish year old woman with a 20 year old VP shunt that recently migrated to her right breast and caused a palpable lump. I hate VP shunts, whenever I think of them I remember what one of my SpRs said some months ago. "Once a VP shunt, always a VP shunt" . Most people who have them inserted always have them revised at some point later in life. It is so annoying.

My shift continues for the next couple of days, but today's shift was not so bad; the refferals were rather stressless.

I finished up my manual and now, I am sitting here posting this blog. I have not posted one in the last eight days, and my fingers have been itching!!!

The Night Before

2007-09-09T20:49:00.000+01:00

Was rummaging through my documents early this evening when I found this short story I wrote many years ago. It won me 2nd prize in a Short story competition during my Uni days. As my eyes flipped over the lines, I couldn't help but think that my writing had undergone some metamorphosis. The story has "simplicity" all over it!

Cold and mustiness filled my room, even as the moonlight rays streamed through the window panes. Outside, bats were shrieking and grasshoppers were chirping but I did not care For me, life had lost its meaning, its value, its everything!
On my door, I heard my mother knocking again. Without exaggerating, I am sure that was about her hundredth time of knocking but I was not moved. Tears incessantly poured down my face. Reader, do not be mistaken, I am a 26 year old man with a good future, a wonderful family and even a well-paid job but what else would one do when the radiant glow that brightened one's heart was dimmed or when it looks like there is no place to run but the great beyond.
I met Michelle ten years ago, to be exact April 13 1991 at one of the numerous holiday lessons littered all over Lagos. I had just finished from secondary school and preparing to get into University while she was in form four.
On that fateful day, preparation for my lesson followed the normal trend until I was about to leave the house, and met Reverend Smith at the gate. Revd. Smith was a childhood friend of my dad and infact, I had known him since my neonatal years. There were two things Revd Smith was known for before he died, his unbelievable tales of how he fought against the Biafrans during the Civil war and his gift of prophecy. The guy had a knack for connecting with the metaphysical!
As Revd. Smith met me at the gate, he patted me on the head and utered the following words,
"Timi, you have a treasure chest of invaluable jewels but a precious stone surpassing all others would soon be added"
Now his words were known to be laced with wisdom and truth so I meditated carefully on these words all the way to lesson. I had no intuition that his words so soon would be true.

After lesson, as the bell rang I reached for my bag, walked out of the class and trudged down to the bus stop. Up till this very day, I do not know what I was thinking of ; when suddenly, a speeding motorbike knocked me off the driveway. The motorcyclist sped off but as I regained consciousness I saw this cute angel kneeling over me. Just looking at the face was like an instant of heavenly bliss, her teeth were so white, the eyelashes fluttered again and again, and my God, she had dimples! Honestly, I did not want to get up.
"Hey, are you hurt? Are you okay? What should we do now? Should I stop a cab to take you to the hospital?........What a barrage of questions.
"Oh no! I am fine", I replied trying to feel like a big boy.
"I am okay, thanks", I continued as I brushed dirt off my jeans trousers. I thanked her for everything and looked forward to seeing her again. Now, that was some crazy thought!
That night, I could not sleep. I kept playing in my head the reminiscence of the incident and the beautiful smile. I had to see her again.
The next day, I got up early and hurried to lesson. I scouted for the pretty face throughout the day but to no avail. To pacify myself, instead of going back home after lesson I branched at Tony's house. Tony and I went to the same secondary school, and funnily, I had never gone to his house even though we were good friends.
At Tony's place, I recounted my experiences not holding anything back. After about two hours of uninterrupted gist, Tony asked me if I wanted anything. I told him I wouldn't mind a bottle of Fanta.
He raised his head and shouted, "Michie, could you please bring Timi a bottle of Fanta". We resumed our gist only to be disturbed (no, not disturbed) by the squeaking sound of an opening door, and whom else would I see but my angel.
She was so shocked, "Oh you are the Timi Tony always talks about"
..................that was how it all began. We instantly hit off. The friendship waxed stronger and stronger, throughout our university days and even when I started working.
Michelle was well loved by my family, especially my mother so I knew I was on the right track. A day after I collected my sixth monthly pay, I proposed and of course, she said yes!
I was so glad, so happy, so thrilled...........could you help me with more words?

Wedding preparations began in earnest. We wanted the wedding to be on April 13, 2001 to mark the day we met but it was a Friday so we shifted it to April 14. I never knew that the day I had treasured would be one I woud come to despise. I did not have the slightest hint. Why did it have to happen?
Just as I was dressing up for the wedding, my brother came in with the bad news. He did not know how to break it but someone had to.
After our engagement the night before, Michelle went back with her parents and on the way, they had an accident and..........they all died. Michelle, my angel, my ravishing beauty and my love died. She died the night before our wedding, the night before we would have been declared man and wife, the night before she would have been called Mrs Adams.
She died on April 13, 2001 exactly ten years after we met. Since then, everything has seemed like night to me. No one else can be like Michelle!

Things you may not know!!!

2007-09-02T04:18:00.000+01:00

Came across these crazy facts and just instantly added my thoughts in italics. What do you in think?

A shrimp's heart is in its head. (No cases of "stupid smushy love" then)

The "sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick" is said to be the toughest tongue twister in the English language. (I tried this several times but never really got any better with it)

Rats multiply so quickly that in 18 months, two rats could have over a million descendants. (Yuck, pity those with rat-infested houses)

Wearing headphones for just an hour will increase the bacteria in your ear by 700 times. (Is that really true, must be the increased warmth!)

If governments have no knowledge of aliens, then why does Title 14, Section 1211 of the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations, implemented on July 16, 1969 make it illegal for U. S. citizens to have any contact with extraterrestrials or their vehicles? (I hope it is only the US that can be that crazy)

A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why. (I am gonna go buy a duck)

23% of all photocopier faults worldwide are caused by people sitting on them and photocopying their butts. (Meeeeeeen, people are crazy ooooh. Now imagine what I will think of when next I see a photocopying machine)

Most lipstick contains fish scales. (Remember that when next you kiss someone)

Like fingerprints, everyone's tongue print is different. (But crimes are not really committed with the tongue? hmmm)

In a study of 200,000 ostriches over a period of 80 years, no one reported a single case where an ostrich buried its head in the sand. (So who started it all off?)

It is physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky. (To see what?)

A pregnant goldfish is called a twit. (Didn't I just call someone a twit?)

More than 50% of the people in the world have never made or received a telephone call. (Nokia staff would not believe this)

Horses can't vomit. (Who told you so? Don't they have four stomachs?)

Butterflies taste with their feet. (Can remember the day when about three of them landed on my shirt. It must have been the perfume)

In 10 minutes, a category 3 hurricane releases more energy than all of the world's nuclear weapons combined. (Yeeeeeee! Hurricane Katrina must have been terrible)

On average 100 people choke to death on ballpoint pens every year. (I must not stick them in my mouth again then)

On average people fear spiders more than they do death. (Repent for "arachnophobia" is at hand.....then people will really repent!)

Ninety percent of New York City cabbies are recently arrived immigrants. (No wonder there will always be Greencard visa lotteries)

Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are already married. (One more internet-related sin)

Elephants are the only animals that can't jump. (Why the hell would they want to jump?)

Only one person in two billion will live to be 116 or older. (Must be awful being the only "old-school fella" in a generation of 2 billion)

It's possible to lead a cow upstairs... but not downstairs. (Leading a cow upstairs...what's the guy up to?)

Women blink nearly twice as much as men. (That's probably because they cry more.....using up the tears that should lubricate the eyes)

It is physically impossible for you to lick your elbow. (Don't think so, let me try)

The Main Library at Indiana University sinks over an inch every year because when it was built, engineers failed to take into account the weight of all the books that would occupy the building. (How many books are there?)

A snail can sleep for three years. (Imagine sleeping and then waking up in 2010.....how would I catch up?)

No word in the English language rhymes with "MONTH." (Moth.....Cloth......Sloth.....okay, okay, I agree)

Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing. (So you want to tell me these eyes have been the same, then they must have been so big back then)

The electric chair was invented by a dentist. (Are dentists all wicked?)

All polar bears are left handed. (Who cares!)

In ancient Egypt, priests plucked EVERY hair from their bodies, including their eyebrows and eyelashes. (Waxing....So it has been happening for years)

An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain. (Gosh that is even worse that Homer Simpson's. They must be dull animals)

TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters on only one row of the keyboard. (I have heard that before!)

"Go," is the shortest complete sentence in the English language. (What about "Come"? Okay P. Stitch is right)

If Barbie were life-size, her measurements would be 39-23-33. She would stand 7 feet, 2 inches tall. (Now that does not sound very sexy)

A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out. (There is no way I would want to prove that)

The cigarette lighter was invented before the match. (The smoking probably got people more retarded or how else, can I explain it?)

Americans on average eat 18 acres of pizza every day. (Wow....that is so unhealthy! Wait a minute, I want a pizza!!!)

Almost everyone who reads this will try to lick their elbow. (Don't tell me you also did it, 'cos I did)

NTA New York!!!

2007-08-27T17:49:00.000+01:00

Days in secondary school (or for some of you, high school) were days of innocence, and the memories stream back episodically with intense nostalgia. My friend, Raven refers to such days as times when the word "laptop" bore vulgar connotations......so I guess that makes me a bit old! A time when there were no mobile phones, very few laptops and satellite TV was not common either. Sometimes, you remember all the memories; some funny, some annoying and some others, totally disgusting!

As a first year student of the Nigerian Miltary School, one was at the lowest rung of the hierarchial miltary ladder and obviously with no choice, had to obey your seniors dutifully. Most junior boys had their masters and had to make sure their uniforms were regularly ironed and the boots brightly shone. Sometimes, they even served as objects of amusement for the senior boys.......by singing/rapping or dancing (can you imagine?).

Now, why the long story, you may ask? One of my colleagues during our first year had the obvious attributes of a spoilt brat. He was one of those guys who was not only born with a silver spoon, but had it "firmly attached to his palate". Being a sort of overgrown baby who seemed to have been snatched off his mama's crib, he never wanted to get involved in most of the rigorous school activities and would do anything to be in the good books of the seniors.
Unfortunately, they were usually enchanted by the snacks & other consumables he provided and he also told incredible lies that were sweet to their ears..........until one day!!!
While keeping them enthralled with his lengthy tales, one of the seniors asked him if he watched cable TV at home.
"Oh yeah, of course I watch cable TV at home. I watch NTA New York and NTA London at home"
There was a resounding silence after that statement, only to be dashed by bursts of laughter and the story spread like wild fire all over the school.

NTA is the acronym for Nigeria's national TV station - National Television Authority and in my opinion, has a penchant for being a boring station (or maybe I am a bit harsh). The 9pm news is accompanied by some rather annoying tunes and the visuals still have this "black and white" hue (in this time and age!).
I was at a friend's house last week flicking through the channels on SKY TV, when I suddenly saw an NTA programme beng aired on channel 146 (BEN television). My friends could not believe the quality of what they saw.....and I was so ashamed, I just changed the line of conversation. Don't get me wrong, I always boast about Nigeria but at that moment, there was nothing I could say. Can't something be done about the TV station?
I know it is a one-in-a-million chance that someone would do something about the sound, colour and programmes of NTA; but I would make an appeal just in case.
Only when something has been done, would the words "NTA New York" or "NTA London" probably not cause too much derogatory laughter.

Rest in Peace, Dr Anyetei.

2007-08-19T21:12:00.000+01:00

I felt heartbroken when I read the news about Dr Victoria Anyetei's death a few days ago. She was a locum paediatric consultant who worked at the St. Thomas Hospital in London. She had left her home for work early Tuesday morning at about 8am, only to be found dead by her 19 year old son 2 hours later in her silver Toyota Avensis car. The car was still in her driveway in Teynham road, Dartford, Kent. Described by friends and relatives as a devout Christian, Dr Anyetei who is Ghanaian had been working in the UK for over ten years.

The postmortem examination revealed stab wounds to her upper body, and the police have come up with different postulations - that she was killed in a "frenzied attack" (whatever that means) and that the killer was probably a former patient. Some papers even said it could be a former patient's relatives.

Now I know there are certain occupational hazards that one must try to avoid, but death did not seem to be on the list. What could a doctor have done to deserve getting a premature death sentence?

Being a doctor detaches one from most of the usual pleasures of life - your social life is usually kept at a low ebb, many years are spent reading and preparing for various exams, in countries like the UK you hardly stay in one place (always moving from one hospital to another) and yet, some bloodthirsty moron thinks that is not a heavy price to pay!

The whole scenario makes me think of my night calls last year before I got my car. Since I had to take the bus which was so infrequent, I was regularly confronted by drunks or junkies reeking of some boozy odour with their speech all slurry. They would just walk up to you and start engaging in some gibberish pseudo-conversation. With a frown on my face, I always tried to escape as quickly as possible and at the same time thinking of what to do in case the matters got out of hand.

My rotation in the Psychiatry department was more notorious and we were all given personal alarms. We were to set them off in case we got to be confronted by any of the patients. There was also a two day course for learning "escape moves" (kinda like martial arts or something like it). All these activities just made me realise how dangerous my life had suddenly become.

Fine... I know I am in a profession that does not forgive mistakes but I would never agree that death should be a worthy punishment. Of course, we have all had our fair share of angry patients but if one of them tries to kill me..........hmmmm. I reserve my comments!!!

Now that I have set off a tirade, I wonder if the police are really sure of their released comments. Or maybe, she was not even killed by a patient? Whoever cut short Dr Anyetei's vibrant life should know that the wicked would know no rest! He/She would pay someday somehow somewhere.

Rest in Peace, Dr Anyetei.......Let us all have a minute of silence in her memory.

Secret Diary of God's Politician III

2007-08-14T12:35:00.000+01:00

Now, let me continue with my fictional story from two months ago.....

Thursday
Just after the meeting at the party headquarters, I got a call from Gerry Ameruah. Gerry was a classmate of mine at the University and we have been very close friends since then.
Gerry works as one of the Ghanaian president’s personal advisers at Osu Castle (the seat of government). He had joined the New Patriotic Party immediately after our University days and had slowly risen through the ranks.
We discussed Ghana’s recent introduction into the club of oil-producing countries. Oil had recently been found and the people were so happy. The Accra Daily Mail carried the headline “Thank God, Oil at last!” and church groups even announced a national prayer day.
Gerry seem bothered, he was scared that the same oil-related misfortunes that had befallen other African oil-producing nations might take their toll on his country. I advised him to tell his boss to remain level-headed, and avoid corruption and improper economic dealings. We had a lengthy conversation and he promised to discuss all the issues with his boss.

Friday
All 646 MPs in the House of Commons had a meeting with the Prime Minister today at the Chambers. It lasted about nine hours – issues were raised about our role as one of the permanent members of the United Nations Security Council and the ‘Special Relationship’ with the United States. Gordon Brown recently had a meeting with George Bush, and the consequences of the meeting were thoroughly analysed.

After the meeting I was so tired and since I did not bring my car, Jenny gave me a lift home. Jenny is a fellow MP who I have worked closely with for about eight years. She is one of the most beautiful female politicians I have come across and we even had a brief relationship in 2003. The relationship lasted only six months; it just did not work out especially because of our religious differences. Jenny is an atheist, a very stubborn one!
She dropped me at my flat in Chancery lane, and I invited her in for dinner. We talked for hours and even watched some of the series of the programme “24” together, slouched on my couch. We were so engrossed until the last DVD and by then it was 01.00am. Whaaaaaaat? Gosh! My fiancée is going to kill me!!!
I hurriedly escorted Jenny to her car and bade her goodbye. She appeared puzzled at my sudden change in behaviour. I really wanted to hold her and apologise but something in my head argued against such a move.

Saturday
Diary, you wouldn’t believe what happened today? I was still lying in bed at about 10.30am when my cell phone vibrated. It was a message from my fiancée
…..Hey baby, you are everything I love. Am coming into town today cos I have missed u so much.
I jerked off my duvet and jumped off my bed. In two hours, I had tidied up my flat and put my culinary skills to work.
At 2pm, she rang the doorbell. Wow, Vicki looked even more beautiful! Her beauty always blew my head off.

“You look beautiful, how was your drive down from Manchester?”
“Tiring, did you miss me?”
“Of course, I did. Who wouldn’t?”
I took off her jacket and went into the kitchen to serve the meals. Feeling happy with myself, I came out smiling with a plate in each hand.
“You just got a text message”. She held my phone in her hand and had a furious look on her face. I knew that look and I dreaded it.
I got the phone from her; it was a message from Jenny.
……Hi dude, thanks for yday. It was awesome, hope we spend more time 2geda again. Really wanted to stay! xxx
“No, it’s not what you think!”
“Jenny again! What time did she leave?”
“1.30am” I said it with the look of an eight year old boy waiting for some great punishment.
The next five hours were spent pleading and begging. I felt so bad, but at least she forgave me before leaving for her Mum’s place at Plaistow.
………Sigh. Diary, I really have to be careful! I am learning more every day.

Sunday
Went to church with Vicki today. The sermon was wonderful; Pastor spoke about the different learning curves of life. He advised that we learn from every opportunity that comes our way and make the most of them.

Wanna know me better!

2007-08-09T21:34:00.000+01:00

Got tagged by Monie a few days ago and I feel a bit over-awed already.....I am beginning to think I am a bit complex. Since I really don't like conforming to the norm, I would be generous with words.

1. Myself: Focussed and loves God

2. My partner: An all-round beauty

3. My hair: Short and getting more curly

4. My mother: She loves me to bits

5. My father: Am a chip "off" the old block

6. Favourite item: My Greenberg

7. My dream last night: Did I sleep?

8. My favorite drink: Anything with the Apple flavour

9. My dream car: Bentley

10. The room I am in: Good enough

11. My fear: Failing

12. What I want to be in 10 years: The best in what I do

13. Who I hung out with last night: Juggled the TV with my books...so boring!

14. What I am not: Non-humourous

15: One of my wish list items: Cash, Fame etc........ can't ask for just one

16: Time: Passes by too fast

17. The last thing I did: Talked on the phone

18. My favorite weather: Cool summer day

19. My favorite book: My Bible...should pay more attention to it though!

20. The last thing I ate: Rice with chilli corn carne (crazy hospital food)

21. My life: Moving on

22. My mood: Presently, not too good

23. My best friend: Vatia

24. What am I thinking about right now: Something that happened at work

25. My car: Ooooh, my wee but effective buggie!

26. What am I doing at the moment: On my laptop, of course

27. My summer: Most of it was spent indoors, so next queston???

28. What is on my TV: Currently on another TV strike, but they only last about 4 hours

29. What is the weather like: Don't know, am locked indoors

30. When was the last time I laughed: Just before I dropped the phone

Back in Neuro.....

2007-08-05T14:12:00.000+01:00

After an eight month rotation stint out of Neurosurgery, it feels good to back! Hopefully, I should be able to give a good account of myself in this department.
I would miss the new friends I made in the last hospital I worked in, even though some of them soaked me with jugloads of water on my last day. One of the nurses, Lindsey, was the main architect of the evil act. Maybe, I should be grateful that they did not put me in the bath and paint me with custard since that was the so-much-talked-about tradition.
Something strikes me though......most staff are more cheerful in the less stressful units, I wonder why? Anyway, that is a thought for another day!
So back to the world of theatres, clinics, CT meetings etc. No matter how stressful it is, I love the job and nothing beats "good job satisfaction". To make things even more appealing, I no longer have to drive 40 miles to work every day since the SGH is just about 7 minutes away from my flat. At least that would make me save about £100 monthly in terms of petrol money.

And my heart broke.......

2007-08-03T21:28:00.000+01:00

I try to keep a cheerful disposition everytime on the wards - not an easy task, believe me especially when you are weighed down by the stress of admitting, discharging and reviewing numerous patients in a busy ward. The scenario gets worse with snobbish bosses and unfriendly nurses (Don't get me wrong, I get on well with most medical staff - am a diehard advocate of excellent teamwork).
With a smile on my face, I whistled out a tune as I got into the ward. My eyes did a quick sweep of the beds on the right side of the ward, and I noticed the empty bed had been filled.
"Hello" I greeted her in my most friendly voice. She brightened up instantly - a sign she probably had been waiting for someone to chat with. I introduced myself and picked up her casenote.
A few pages after, I had gotten all the information I needed. She had been admitted via the Accident & Emergency, with multiple pelvic fractures sustained in a traffic accident.
She asked me if I was a Christian and I said "yes". We then talked about the Bible and many other Christian-related issues. This woman really wanted to talk and I could not just leave, despite my outlined list of jobs.
She told me she was so happy to get someone to talk with, since she had been very bored since she regained consciousness. Her husband had come to see her twice but their conversation had been very strained.
We kept talking for about thirty minutes and as I was about to take my leave, she aske for a favour. Of course, I could not refuse!
"What do you want me to do?"
"Doctor, I want you to check on my son in the ITU. He was also in the accident and his CT scan was not too good"
"No problem, once I finish on the ward would pop into the ITU"
"I hope he is much better. My husband spends most of his time there"
Later that night, I went to the ITU and checked all the patients. None of them looked younger than 30, and none bore the same surname with my patient. I asked the nurses and they said no patient with the name had ever been admitted in the past month.
****A bulb lit up in my head****
I rushed back to the wards, hopng my suspicions would not be confirmed. I did some quick research and found out that her son had died in the accident, her husband and other relatives did not want to break the news to her because of her clinical condition and had begged the consultant and other staff to do the same.
So what do I do?
For about twenty four hours, I dodged the wards (postponing the evil days!!!). Something somehow would take me to the ward, it was unavoidable. As soon as I got into the ward, she called me and asked of her son.
The smile came over my face again........."Aaaah Mrs X, I have seen him and he is currently stable but we are doing all we can"
Oooooh my goodness, I just lied
"Thank you doctor, I was beginning to think my husband was lying to me"
My heart broke, I could feel drops wellng up in my tear glands. Would she still trust me later?

Unfortunately, the lies continued for about a month till she was discharged. The consultant had said no one should talk about it and I was not bold enough to go against the code, creating in me some turmoil of some sort.
On the day of discharge, she called me to her bedside and introduced her husband to me. She had been told about her son and just wanted to thank me for _______. I can't remember what she really thanked me for, but I know she thanked me.
I could not even look straight into her eyes.

Inspirational One-liners

2007-07-22T16:31:00.000+01:00

1. Give God what's right -- not what's left.

2. Man's way leads to a hopeless end -- God's way leads to an endless hope.

3. A lot of kneeling will keep you in good standing.

4. He who kneels before God can stand before anyone.

5. In the sentence of life, the devil may be a comma--but never let him be the period.

6. Don't put a question mark where God puts a period.

7. Are you wrinkled with burden? Come to the church for a face-lift.

8. When praying, don't give God instructions - just report for duty.

9. Don't wait for six strong men to take you to church.

10. We don't change God's message -- His message changes us.

11. The church is prayer-conditioned.

12 When God ordains, He sustains.

13. WARNING: Exposure to the Son may prevent burning.

14. Plan ahead -- It wasn't raining when Noah built the ark.

15. Most people want to serve God, but only in an advisory position.

16. Suffering from truth decay? Brush up on your Bible.

17. Exercise daily -- walk with the Lord.

18. Never give the devil a ride -- he will always want to drive.

19. Nothing else ruins the truth like stretching it.

20. Compassion is difficult to give away because it keeps coming back.

21. He who angers you controls you.

22. Worry is the darkroom in which negatives can develop.

23. Give Satan an inch & he'll be a ruler.

24. Be ye fishers of men -- you catch them & He'll clean them.

25. God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called.

26. Read the Bible -- It will scare the "Hell" out of you.

Some doctors do 'ave them!

2007-07-17T22:48:00.000+01:00

What do you think about what you are about to read now? Fiction or Real life events? Take your pick!

As a doctor, you see all sorts of people everyday - some queer, some others are amusing and many others do not fit under any descriptive bill. Writing this article has been on my mind for ages, I really don't know why I kept postponing. Anyway, here I am finally putting these fingers to work............

P.A was an 18 year old boy who had been involved in a vehicular accident. His prognosis was so bad and we tried all we could to no avail. He kept deteriorating neurologically, his pupils had long become unresponsive and the blood parameters were always deranged. The team had discussed his clinical status with his mother and she felt we should withold all further treatment and just let her boy die in peace.
However, during one of my ward rounds as the night call doctor I examined him and found his pupils had become responsive so I suggested recommencing treatment. His mother who had been sobbing quietly whilst holding his hands, suddenly flared up - she was mad at me. Why did I want to put her through a lot again? Her relatives and the ward nurses had to pacify her leaving me shell-shocked. What did I do? I immediately paged my boss, and gave him a detailed account. He agreed with my plans and promptly came to the ward to discuss with the woman. After about 30 minutes, she "stepped off the gas a little". Who was wrong? I was doing my job and she was following her heart......I think we were both right.
Unfortunately, a few days later, the boy died. No matter how hard I try, I can never forget him!!!

From the first day I saw P.B, I knew there was something about her. Sometimes, she was so nice and calm and other times, she became very wild always trying to kill herself. She would run and slam her head into the window. She was as unpredictable as a light switch next to a naughty five year old's bed.
There was even a day she slashed her wrist with a razor and I had to stitch up the laceration. No one knew how she got the razor. A few days after, I decided to do an ECG check on her because of some unexplainable hypertension she had developed. Guess what? The nurses found another razor blade tucked somewhere under her undies.
Unpredictable as she might be, I always pitied her and tried to empathise as much as possible. During one of our talks on the ward, she told me her daughter was her dad's!!! Did you get that? The testosterone-charged pig had raped her years ago, and every time she recounted the events....she just flipped!!! Oooooh how I wish I could get the stupid pig to teach him a lesson or two!

There are many P.Cs in the Western world, maybe not as many in the Third world countries. When P.C walked into the consultation room, I made a mental guess of his age. I came up with something near 50. By the time, I cross-checked with his case notes I discovered I had added an extra 20 years. He was 70+.
He was some sort of fitness freak, exercised regularly (maybe excessively), watched what he ate etc. He came with newspaper cuttings - many of them featuring articles on his medical condition and the medications he was taking. He was very detailed and it was obvious he was one "very knowledgeable patient". I had to pick my words very carefully - my brain doing multiple checks before my mouth responded to the stimuli.
Retrospectively, as I think back now.........I think such people might be good for the profession, they would keep us on our feet. But too much of everything is bad sha!

The latest reports say in present-day UK, the elderly population is at a high. There are so many nursing homes and megabucks is spent on home care packages. It is a system that is so different from the African system. Here, most of the old people are left in nursing homes or hospices once they start becoming "a nuisance" to their former dependents unlike the African system where the old are never left alone. A young lad or lass would be speedily recruited from the village to provide adequate care and attention.
However, I did a double-take when I met P.D. She was a fragile 80ish year old lady who stayed alone. I think she had home carers who came visiting regularly at different times of the week.
The world has moved on technologically, and so did her family. They stayed far away but kept her under 24 hour CCTV monitoring. Am sure they could teach the anti-terrorism teams a thing or two. Who said some things are impossible?

Secret Diary of God's politician II

2007-07-16T21:46:00.000+01:00

Some more work from the fictional centres of my brain....let us keep up with this politico.

Friday
Early today I felt super-charged, a bit like Elijah must have felt after the Mount Carmel massacre. My morning devotion was extraordinary, I meditated on the first five verses of Isaiah chapter 62 and my head was blown off! (literarily, I mean).
No matter what comes my way, I shall overcome!
The council chambers seemed a bit eerie today; gist from the grapevine is that Marten got furious when he learnt I left the meeting at Cygnet hotel. Now I have to engage in some political pacification, but within the confines of my Christian faith. Heard bales of cash got passed around so that votes will be cast for Marten; and that is something I do not want to be part of.

Saturday
Leo, my younger brother called me this afternoon as promised. He had dropped a voicemail message last week about something very important.
He said he also wants to go into politics and veer off from his current profession (he’s a medical doctor). Mum was not too happy about it, she always wanted him to be a doctor, but he is sure God wants him to go into politics. I did not want to serve as some pseudo-arbiter, but if it is God….no one can argue with that! Sorry Mum.
If my brother becomes a politician, that will make two of us. Suddenly, it makes me think of the two popular Polish Kaczynski brothers. One is the president and the other is the prime minister, and to worsen matters they are twins. They are the world’s only twins to hold the two highest posts in any country. I wonder what happens at their family meetings.

Sunday
I drove into the church car park, just in time for the last hour of the second service. My party leader fixed a meeting for 4am this morning to discuss some pertinent issues and the meeting did not end till 12 noon. He wants us to move for the passage of a bill before the month ends and to try and influence some specific members of the opposition.
Even though I only listened to a short part of the sermon, I was tremendously blessed. Pastor preached a message on “Revival” – how to start a revival first, in ourselves and then in our homes, offices and nations. God is telling me something here!

Monday
One of my fellow MPs raised a dicey issue in the house today. She said the recently set-up smoking ban was already being abused by some MPs, and even offered to show the Commons leader where people were smoking.
In response, others shouted “toilets” and I just chuckled silently to myself. Imagine the lawmakers becoming the lawbreakers!

Tuesday
As I opened the door to my office this morning, Adrian walked by. I smiled at him, but he just gave a smirk in return. He said something about my days being numbered in the House, if I do not shed off my holier-than-thou attitude.
Adrian is one guy who tries to get under everyone’s skin and known everywhere as Marten’s right hand man. He talks faster than he thinks, and is a typical case of verbal diarrhoea caused by intellectual constipaton.
In a bid to scare me, he added that my case had gotten to the higher quarters. Father, forgive them for they know not what they do…Luke 23 v 34
Aaaaaah, showing ‘agape love’ is difficult but God help me!

Wednesday
Showed up on the golf course later in the evening. Don’t be fooled, with a golf handicap of 20 I am no Tiger Woods. I only show up regularly on the greens to improve my political connections, since many of the senior government officials are members of the golf club.
We ended up discussing about the pros and cons of political life. Josh argued that the cons outweigh the pros as one’s life becomes an open book and the public constantly have expectations. He mentioned the four American presidents that were shot in office – Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, William McKinley and JF Kennedy (most, if not all were shot by disgruntled citizens). Even Ronald Reagan was lucky to have survived an assassination attempt.
I argued in favour of the pros – talking about people who were loved by the masses and did the right things e.g. William Wilberforce and Nelson Mandela.
We ended up talking instead of putting and practising our golf shots.

Secret Diary of God's politician

2007-07-11T23:41:00.000+01:00

Before your eyes dart across the page, a small warning....what you are about to read is purely fiction. I only write it because of my love for politics and because I hope that more Christians will engage in politics. Okay, now you can continue reading!

Monday
Oh nooooo! Another week! My tie proved to be a bit more difficult this morning, but I got the knot right after the fourth attempt. I was still having a protracted sneaky peek at the mirror, looking at one of God’s most handsome creations (myself) when my phone rang.
Only three people call me at this odd time of the day – my fiancée, my mother and of course, my party leader. Somehow, today’s call was a break from the norm because it was Jim Munro. He was calling to remind me of the Career Day workshop taking place at his school – we chatted about trivialities for a few seconds and then I added before hanging up that I never miss my appointments.
I met Jim Munro about ten years ago at a fund raising event, while I was the Youth leader for my political party. We have remained good friends since then so I was not surprised to be one of the guest speakers at the workshop. He became the head teacher of a primary school in my constituency about two years ago.
Work was so boring today, nothing extraordinary happened. Guess it was the usual “Monday bug” – the weekends always seem to run by so fast.

Tuesday
Joe, my chauffer knocked on my door at exactly 12 noon. I had told him to come in much early today since it was a long drive to Redcoats School. As I cleared my desk of the littering paperwork, a feeling of anxiety suddenly crept over me. I felt like a teenager going on his first date. Would I be a good role model to these kids?
The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me because He has anointed Me….. Luke 4 v 18a (NKJV)
We got there in time for the event and I got to speak after the lawyer. Jim had invited about ten people to speak – there was a soldier, an engineer, a popular singer, the lawyer, someone from the NHS and some others. I think there was also one of the footballers in the national team, maybe it was even David Beckham but I was not so sure.
How would I discuss politics without being boring? I speedily simulated with several interesting experiences in my head, but that did not last long as I heard my name boom out of the two large speakers.
Wow! I held the kids captive throughout my thirty minute slot, occasionally spicing it up with some good humour and intermittently asked for questions. Kids of these days, their heads work like the interior of a grandfather clock…..so many questions!!!
“When did you decide to become a politician?”
“Why would you choose democracy over communism?”
“Who killed J.F. Kennedy?”
Jim was beginning to make gestures at me to round up, when this cherub-like cutie raised her hand. I wondered what other question was in store for me.
“My mum says you are a Christian and the best politician she has ever known”
There was a pin drop silence after that, I don’t remember how I replied but the noise of the applause as I walked off the podium is still ringing in my ears.

Wednesday
One of my MP colleagues slipped a crumpled sheet of paper into my pocket as I walked past him during the tea break.
I completely forgot about it until I was fishing in my pockets for some coins as I drove into MacDonalds. It read …….Cygnet Hotel Thursday 9.00pm.

Thursday
There was a meeting with the Prime Minister and some UNFCCC representatives on how to combat global warming. Several issues were discussed from investing in eco-friendly automobiles, lowering consumption of fossil fuels to cutting down on air travel. I even had to present a paper on the Kyoto protocol.
The gospel of “combating climate change” is now being preached with so much ferocity. Sometimes, I dare to imagine if we could preach the word of God with equal measure.

At 9.00pm, I walked up to the reception desk at Cygnet Hotel and got directed to Room 914. There were about thirty other MPs already waiting in the room, and I got a bit wary. Everyone was smoking or sipping from cans of expensive beer and since I have given up on the two vices about six years ago, I got a glass of apple juice and drifted to the non-smoking area of the room.
Marten greeted everyone with his usual suave and flawless voice. Marten is a very witty fellow, one of those guys you do not want to engage in a fight with. A colourful and garrulous character, he belonged to a long line of politicians – his great grandfather, his grandfather, his uncle and elder brother had all served in top political posts. He reminded us he was one of the candidates in the running to head the Finance Committee, and would want our support.
To prove that he backs his words with deeds, he would want to give us (the chosen ones, he called us) some “gifts”. He paused for maximal effect and then said he would want to leave the room for a few minutes. As soon as the door shut after him, I asked one of the ushers for the way to the loo and disappeared. …….. Get thee behind Me, Satan… Luke 4 v 22a (NKJV)

One of those days!!!

2007-06-26T22:18:00.000+01:00

I haven't posted a blog in about 10 days due to a gammoth of reasons - stress, work, clashing schedules and all the works. Anyway, I am back and my itchy digits are excited to be back skipping over the keys of the ward's computer.
In the past 10 days, I have seen it all (maybe, not all) - a sort of microcosm of a man's life....the good, the bad and the ugly.
This blog is about the "ugly". A few days back, I got home after a very busy day. Really knackered, all I could think of was my bed and since I had to get up early for a 6.30am meeting the next morning, I hoped for an early night.

However, if there is one thing that has made me a persistent insomniac, it's my laptop. I seem to spend most evenings in front of it, either reading from some medical website, or from online Nigerian dailies or some football websites. On this day, the recurring trend seemed to continue unabated and then about half past 9, I started feeling peckish! My girlfriend says the word "peckish" describes a feeling of pseudo-hunger (when you are not really hungry but your buccal tissues need some exercise).
I wore my sneakers, threw on my leather jacket and headed to the nearby shop to buy some edibles - crazy stuff like ice cream and cakes. Everything cost £5.17, and since I had brought only a £5 note I told the guy at the till that I had some pennies in my flat. I jogged back to my flat, got the coins and dropped my keys on the table.
Walked back to the shop, gave the guy the remaining change and picked up my bag. As I got to my door still thinking of the pleasures awaiting me, I fished around in my leather jacket for my keys and discovered they had disappeared. Only then did I realise I had forgotten them in my flat.

Crazy thoughts went through my head - What should I do? Where would I sleep? To worsen matters, it would not get dark till about 10.30pm so I could not try breaking in through the windows. For over an hour, I tried sneaking my arm through the letterbox but to avail. I only got bruises to show for it! I even used different crude innovations - a tennis racket, a piece of metal etc.
After about an hour of futility, I decided to flip through a pile of Yellow Pages lying at the foot of the staircase. I called one of the 24 hour locksmiths, and after listening to some crazy music for about ten minutes - a female voice came on the line. A brief summary of my predicament was narrated and as she started asking for my details - I heard the message "One minute more" on my phone. Oh my God, I had forgotten to top up!
As if that was not enough, the phone started beeping due to low battery. I was lucky to reel out my number as fast as I could before my credit finished. She called me back and promised to get one of their staff down at me address in an hour. The time now was 12am! I tried the guy with my extra key but could not get him on the phone.

I waited, pranced about, tried climbing up to my back window but still no luck. The back window was so high up, never knew it was so high above the ground. About 45 minutes, with just one bar on my phone - I noticed a call from Birmingham. It was the woman, so she was in Birmingham! Which kin rubbish be dis?
She called me to inform me of the unfortunate turn of events - she could not get any Glasgow engineer to help at this time of the night. What was I supposed to do? I went to the nearest phone booth and tried the freephone options, but still no luck!
Now it was dark so I tried all the windows, the back window opened a bit after about six trials. Not just trials, I mean six times of climbing to the loft height while balancing with all the skill a russian gymnast could muster. I did not want to have a fractured skull!
The window opened no further and I was beginning to imagine a night out as a tramp. Noooooo, this could not be happening to me!

At about 1.45am, a light bulb went off in my head. I went round the still-opened shops for a hammer. When I eventually, the greedy shopkeeper asked for £3....you needed to have seen the look on my face. I felt like planting a punch on his jaw.
Anyway, without much ado, I climbed back up to the window and ripped the catch open with the hammer. As I jumped into my bedroom, the window fell and hurt my ankle. It just could not get any worse.
Returned the hammer, got a quick night shower, and still smarting from a sore ankle managed to catch a 3 hour nap. I drove to work that day, as shattered as a busy beaver.
I was limping all day at work...............all because of 17p!!!

The story continues.........

2007-06-17T18:54:00.000+01:00

It looked like disgust was written all over her face, and I just could not find any more words. She walked away from me, down the stairs and got an empty seat about seven rows from the front. With a sudden burst of acceleration, I was at the seat next to hers. I had to get there before the tall bloke in the red shirt, he had his eyes on her the whole time. Thank goodness, I beat him to it.
"Do you mind if I sit next to you?"
"Nooooooo" Her voice was laden with irritation and annoyance.
I sat down and removed my leather jacket, skillfully positioning the pack of popcorns on the arm rest with my right hand.
She did not even blink, she kept her eyes on the screen the whole time. I could see the reflection of the images glistening off her eyeballs. For God's sake, they were still showing the adverts.

The movie starts and the auditorium gets quieter, you could feel the intense anticipation. With bated breaths, we all waited for the opening scene of "The Pirates of the Caribbean : At the World's End". From the corner of my eyes, I noticed she was bringing out a bag of popcorns while her eyes were still fixed on the screen. It was like she was in some trance of some sorts. She opened the bag and popped the first handful into her sexy mouth. Her lips were so beautiful!
I was at my wits' end. Should I say something? She might get pissed off?

I opened my bag of popcorns and placed it back on the armrest, still wondering whether to focus on the movie or on the paragon of beauty seated to my right.
About ten minutes later, I noticed her slender fingers drop into my popcorn bag. She scooped up a good amount and put them into her mouth.
C'mon, wait a minute....that's mine!
Did she know? Or was she teasing me?
I took up the bag, and was about to dip my hand into it when she turned and looked at me. She had a furious look on her face.
"That's yours" I said, and pointed to her bag of popcorns that had fallen on the seat to her right.
"Ooooooh, I am so sorry!" It was like night turning into day, as the frown was quickly replaced by a smile. She looked more beautiful!!!
"I thought that was mine, that is what happens when I see Johnny Depp"
We both laughed.

"So you watch a lot of his films then - Chocolat and Finding Neverland?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Donnie Brasco, Sleepy Hollow and the Astronaut's wife."
"Hmmmm cool, did you know he acted in 'Nightmare on Elm street'?"
"Really, I didn't know that?"
"Guess you were happy when he broke up with Winona Ryder?"
"Noooooo, I am not that crazy about him"
She laughed and gave me a playful punch. A pleasurable feeling hit all my nerve endings with the punch. More! More!! More!!! I wanted her to give me another playful punch.
"How come you know all these stuff, anyway?"
"Let's say, I am a movie freak"
"And you like Johnny Depp too?"
"Of course not, I prefer the females. am not from San Francisco"
She laughed again, but there were no punches this time.
" You are so funny. I am Vicki, what's your name?"
For a moment, I could hear halleluyah choruses ring out somewhere deep in my brain.
My name!!! She asked for my name!!!!
"Andy"
Suddenly, there's a vibrating sound and she looked a bit embarrassed. It was her phone, she fished it out of her D & G bag and checked who was interrupting this moment of heavenly bliss. The vibration stopped and she was about to drop it again into the bag when my mouth blurted open again.
"Isn't that a Nokia N series phone?" I asked. Stupid question, because I knew the answer already.
"Yeah, it is.........a present from my dad"
Dad...hmm sounds nice (not boyfriend) Today's my day!
"Can I have a look?"
With all the speed and accuracy, my fingers could muster, I typed out my digits and pressed 'call'.
I instantly felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jacket. Mission accomplished!!!
Immediately afterwards, I deleted my number, fiddled with the phone for a few more seconds and returned the phone.
We continued to chat intermittently throughout the rest of the movie, although this time, we did not make any more "popcorn mistakes".

After the movie, I even got to walk her down to the busstop. As she got on the bus, she turned gave me a smile (I felt my legs turn to jelly) and said, "Hope we meet again sometime?"
I returned the smile, a cheeky one........I had an ace up my sleeve. I kept waving even when the bus had driven out of sight.

Later that night, after my night shower and well tucked under the duvet I scrolled through the list of contacts on my phone.......... Tucker, Val, Victor, Vickii (yeeeeeessss). I pressed 'call'.
"Hello" Her voice even sounded even more beautiful on the phone.
"Hi, is that Vickii?"
"Yep, who's that?"
"Andy, can you remember the guy at the cinema?"
Long pause.................
"H-o-o-www did you get my number?"
"From Johnny Depp"
"Yeah right, I know what you did" Laughing with that beautiful voice again.

We spoke for two hours that night, and that's how it all started!!!

Love at first sight

2007-06-09T16:05:00.000+01:00

The room was packed full, and I was beginning to feel very dizzy. My feet seemed to have become afunctional as my body was just being carried involuntarily by the massive influx of people who were also rushing to get seats. To worsen matters, my odorant receptors were stung by the admixture odours of sweat, perfumes and some other putrid gases.

The weekend had been a long one and since there was nothing to do, I had decided to go to the cinema to watch the latest box office movie. Unfortunately, I had not planned that there would be as many movie freaks like myself, eager to watch the same flick.

Should I just go back home? Maybe a lunch somewhere would be a better option? Different thoughts were speedily racing all over the neuronal tracks of my fatigued brain.
Ouch!!! Someone had just stepped on my foot and it hurt terribly. I looked up and it was a huge bearded Shrek-looking guy, he did not even have the courtesy to say sorry.
I was beginning to think the day could not get any worse when I looked up again and our eyes met.

Your beauty blew my head off, my heart seemed to freeze mid-beat and my lower jaw became ten times heavier. Why were you having that effect over me?
Intuition told me you felt odd the way I looked at you because of the way you rolled our eyeballs and twitched your eyelashes. Oh my gosh....that even made you look sexier and I could feel the image burn deep into my head. It's still there!

The whole earth stood still like some extra-terrestrial being had pressed a 'pause' button and I forgot there were a thousand other people around, you alone stood out rendering all other lesser mortals uglier. With all the strength I could muster, my roving eyes rapidly took the whole image in.
The blue designer top and jeans you wore was tightly clad to your body and looked like it would fit no other, only you. Your smile revealed a dentition that would have made any Sensodyne advertisers pay the megabucks, and your slender well manicured fingers brought up my goose pimples.
The surreal feeling you generated was overwhelming and I felt like Danny Zuko under Sandy's charm.
Like a helpless junkie on ecstasy, I found myself walking towards you. My mouth developed a power of its own and I found myself blurting out......

"Do you believe in love at first sight or do I have to walk by again?"

Boredom...so annoying

2007-06-03T19:53:00.000+01:00

Was on another 24 hour call yesterday, Moi really dislikes the calls when they fall on weekend days. It just messes up the whole weekend. I left my flat early with my food and books packed, with the niggling thoughts that I would not get to read half of the books I picked.
Initially, there was so much to do. Drugs to be reviewed, patients to be examined and transfused etc. I never really mind, that's what I am paid for anyway. The call went smoothly till mid-afternoon when I was called by one of the nurses on Anderson ward that a patient had passed away. I had to certify and then, console her family.
Went round the other wards and attended to the troubling complaints. A little bit there, a little bit here till about 10pm and then there were no more bleeps. I even had to test my page to be sure it was working.
The quietness lasted till I handed over at 9am. Without much ado, I drove off to the nearest BP station and filled my tank. Cost me about 20 quid....I hope it will last till Wednesday since I drive about 72 miles everyday to and from work. Even heard Baba Sege gave parting gift of 75 naira per litre to Nigerians. A friend's prophecy of 100 naira per litre is fast coming to pass!
Got home, fixed myself a meal and started working on my presentation for Wednesday. Midway, I snoozed off. I feel so bored, what should I do? The feeling is overwhelming, so immense, I wanna tear my hair out. Flipping through blogs, soccer websites etc does not help and then I snooze off again.
I should have called a number of friends on phone but that has gotten me into trouble recently so I have mellowed down! (That gist will be for another post)
Anyway, a few friends called and then I went back to my presentation. A friend had mentioned the www.krazienaija.com site to me, so I listened to some songs on it.
Nigerian artistes have a funny knack of lacing rhyming words together - songs by Styl-plus, Dbanj, Azadus etc. I am sure I am way behind when it comes to Naija songs as I have not followd them at all in ages. I listened to a few of them, titubating haphazardly and giggling intermittently to the lyrics as I put finishing touches to my work. The rhymes in "Tongolo" made me very amused.
Things got better when my girlfriend called but we could not talk for a long time, and the post-conversation phase even seemed much worse. Basking in euphoria for the few minutes of our talk only to be rapidly brought down again to earth
Could someone out there please give me some cogent advice. 'Cos I am freaking bored!!!!!

Ooooooh! Back at work!

2007-05-28T17:53:00.000+01:00

The above caption sounds like the cry of an indolent man, but believe me when I say I am not a lazy punk......it just feels odd to be back at work again after a ward-free and patient-free week. I took a week leave off and unlike most people, I never seem to get a good holiday rest because of certain medical courses already scheduled by myself.
So, last Tuesday I went down to London in a boring 10 hour coach journey. It's funny I still go with the coach especially since I promised sometime ago to always fly down instead. Kept to the promise for about three months, before resorting back to my old ways. The major reasons........it was much cheaper and then I wanted to read. Really, I wanted to read!
Not many people were travelling, guess because it was Tuesday so I chose a good seat with a table and set up my reading tools. However, it was not so funny because there was a guy in the adjacent seat who never stopped writing.........he wrote pages and pages! To worsen matters, he intermittently licked his book or wiped it using his shaggy hair. It bothered quite a number of people, but I just made the diagnosis of ADHD (Attention-deficit hyperactive disorder) and kept on reading, until we got to Manchester.
From then on, it was a different story as the seat opposite me got occupied by a chatty Chelsea fan who had gone to Manchester to catch up with a Russian girl he had met online. He told me he watched the FA Cup final between Man U and Chelsea in a pub in Manchester, and had funny stories to tell. We ended up talking about everything - from football to history.
The few days spent in London were not so bad. Saw a few friends and spent the three nights in a cheap hotel somewhere in Central London. London just seemed a bit like Lagos, with seas of heads everywhere and I usually felt like a grilled Nando's chicken when I was in the tube....damn it was so hot! It's funny, see what a year in Glasgow has done to me already.
I went for my course on Wednesday and it was all day-long, was so knackered afterwards. Spent one more day and then took off for Glasgow on Friday. Was deliberating on whether to veer off and check some folks at Birmingham and Coventry but just kept postulating and postponing.
On my journey back, I read an article on a recent fundraising party attended by celebrities like Kylie Minogue, Sharon Stone and George Clooney. George Clooney's lips were "auctioned" at the event and £400,000 was gained, a certain guy paid £180,000 (something like that) for his wife to get snogged by Clooney. This crazy world!!!
Got back home and still so bored, so I jumped at the offer to go to the cinema with a couple of friends on Saturday evening to watch the latest "Pirates of the Carribean" movie. We were running late so I drove as fast as I could - anyway, it was of no use as it was fully booked and we had to settle for something else. What did we watch? "Next", a thriller starring Nicholas Cage and it was really cool - my kind of movie. Soooooo unpredictable!
And now I am back at work, on call. Imprisoned by the hospital walls on a 24 hour long call with fellow prisoners, some of them with shorter jail terms (nurses) and some with longer terms (patients). But I really can't complain - this is my life's calling!

What does it have to do with kids?

2007-05-26T12:00:00.000+01:00

The doorbell rings.
Gabrielle: Timi, go and check who is at the door while I finish with the dinner.
Timi runs down excitedly down the hallway.
Timi: Daaaaaaaaadddddddy! Mummy, Daddy is back!
Tony lifts him up and whirls him all around.
Tony: I have missed you guys, where is your Mum? And how has my big boy been acting up at school?
Timi: School’s been fine; I came first in my exams. Daddy, I have missed your questions…….Question time start!
Tony: Okay, okay…..Question time stop! Who is the new Prime Minister of Great Britain?
Timi: Easy, Gordon Brown.
Tony: France and Nigeria, give me the names of their new presidents.
Timi: Hmmmmmm, I know them. (Pauses) Yeeeeesss! Nicolas Sarkozy and Umar Yaradua.
Gabrielle steps out of the kitchen, accompanied by the hunger-stimulating smell of roasted chicken.
Tony: Hmmm, I am hungry! (Kisses her) Mwaaah!
Gabrielle: You should not be teaching him so much of politics and current affairs. He is becoming too knowledgeable for his own good. He is always reading the papers and asking me difficult questions.
Tony: You know what…. the MTV channel says something like –“Give us the youths and we would rule the world”. The youth are being targeted all over the world today and many fall victim because they know so little. I just don’t want him to be ignorant of many things happening all over the world.
Gabrielle: But what does MTV have to do with politics and current affairs.
Tony: No, not just MTV. Adolph Hitler, the infamous Nazi dictator understood the real depth of political influence when he openly acknowledged “Get me the four year olds and I will take over the world”. Politics, information and influence go hand in hand.
Gabrielle: Guess you are right though! I was reading in the papers the other day that the football club, Chelsea FC, gave free tickets and football jerseys to hundreds of children before one of their matches. When Peter Kenyon, the chief executive of the club was asked about the motive behind such a move, he answered they were building up a fan base for the future.
Tony: Yeah, targeting the young ones gives you a seemingly assured lasting period of relevance.
Gabrielle: Hmmmmm
Tony: A company in charge of building wind mills, in certain areas of Scotland is taking publicity to a different level. They sponsor and place kids in schools to publicise their actions. Rumour has it that these children regularly wear T-shirts with the company logo boldly emblazoned on them. Funny eh?
Gabrielle: Anything for the kids. There is a widespread move to get the kids………a new group started off “The No Outsiders project” which funds the publishing of books for children. These books preach the gospel of same-sex relationships along Cinderella type storylines. One of the stories is about two princes who fell in love.
Tony: Yeah, I heard about that. The absurd thing is that the name, No Outsiders, was taken from a quote by Desmond Tutu.
Timi: Daddy, isn’t that the South African bishop who is a Nobel Laureate?
Tony: Yeah, that’s my boy! Gabrielle, I even heard of something else while I was in Dubai. The Middle-eastern countries are not left out. One of the TV channels during their breakfast children’s programmes showed a Mickey Mouse character called ‘Farfour’ teaching children to hate the people of Israel and be ready to die for the cause.
Gabrielle: Are you kidding me? You got to be joking.
Timi: No, Daddy is not joking. The TV channel is Al-Aqsa TV; children call in to the breakfast show and sing Hamas anthems about fighting Israel. One of my classmates saw it online.
Gabrielle: Timi, where do you learn all these things? Anyway, let’s go and eat – the food must be getting cold.
Timi: Daddy, I want to run for councillor. An 18 year old boy just became a councillor in Aberdeen. I want to do good things for people like Jesus says we should.
Gabrielle: (Shakes her head) Eat your food first then you can run for whatever you want. C’mon, go and set the table!
Tony: Timi, listen to your Mum. Let’s go and eat.

A day at the park!

2007-05-20T18:26:00.000+01:00

Only when I got to church this morning, did I remember that there was a day-out at the Blueberry park after the second service. I had no change of clothes, so I had to drive down in my suit. Others went home to change into something less formal, some others had come to church in sporty wears but me......I couldn't drive all the way to Glasgow and then back to Dalry. No, not a good plan.
The event was scheduled for 1.30pm, and surprisingly it was a very sunny day. Sunny days are something of a rarity in Glasgow, even though this year has served up loads of surprises. The last time a friend had invited me for an outdoor barbecue after three days of good sunshine, it rained cats-and-dogs partially ruining what had been planned. We changed plans and still managed to catch lots of fun playing games indoors. Today, however, was so different. We all had a walk round the castle after helping ourselves to the homemade cakes and drinks. Then I joined in playing football, rugby and rounders. Couldn't allow my formal wear to hinder me so I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves.........meeeen, I have become so unfit!
After about forty minutes, I was gasping like an excited Newfoundland. Despite my early morning pushups and dumbbell exercises, I couldn't believe I was this tired. I really have to resume my jogging....a formerly regular routine I had avoided for years. I used to be a good marathon runner but since I want to put on a few stone, I have decided not to jog in ages. Now I think I made a wrong decision.
Anyway, everyone had fun while it lasted and by 4pm we all started leaving. I wonder how my aching limbs are going to cope on the drive back home

A letter to Papa

2007-05-18T23:51:00.000+01:00

Office of the MP,
Parliamentary House,
Truth town.
United Kingdom
MT10 19KJV

Dear Papa,
It’s been ages since I last wrote you a letter. Though I promise time after time that I would be in regular contact, work keeps getting in the way. Howz everything going up there? I have really missed you, Uncle Michael and Uncle Gabriel. Please extend my greetings to them. The picture of all us on my graduation day, still sits atop my table.
Sometimes, this job of mine gets me so depressed. I know this is the right job for me, but what happens when the accompanying challenges seem insurmountable. That’s why I am writing now, because I need your advice and you are the only one who knows it all!
Every day, I meet papers on my desk about frightening issues. What’s happening Papa? Is Christianity getting suppressed? Have we all become toothless and lukewarm?
Do you know that on Wednesday 28 February, the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Human Rights (JCHR) submitted a paper? The committee was set up to work on the new sexual orientation regulations. Here are some of the paragraphs of the paper:
"Where the manifestation of a belief conflicts with the right of gay people not to be discriminated against in their access to services as important as adoption services, it is in our view necessary and justifiable to limit the right to manifest the belief" (paragraph 52).
"In our view the Regulations should clearly apply to the curriculum, so that homosexual pupils are not subjected to teaching, as part of their religious education or other curriculum, that their sexual orientation is sinful or morally wrong", and "We welcome the Government's acceptance that [the Regulations] should apply to all schools [...] without any exemption for particular types of schools such as faith schools" (paragraphs 65 and 67).
Papa, I should inform you about the SORs (also known as Sexual Orientation Regulations). These Regulations are said to make discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation unlawful in relation to the provision of goods, services, premises, education and public functions, and are due to come into force on the 30th of April. Under the Regulations it will be illegal for a Christian printer to refuse to print material promoting homosexual sex and it will illegal for an adoption agency (Christian or not) to refuse to allow same sex couples adopting a child. The Catholic agencies complained, but were turned down, and instead the Prime Minister announced an 18 month transitional period, during which they will have to “toe the line”. A fellow MP told me even ministers might not be able to turn away same sex couples who want their union blessed.
To imagine that the Government would prefer to shut down the numerous voluntary services provided by Christian adoption agencies etc, rather than accept that Christians should not be forced to promote homosexual practices, is beyond my understanding. When others shout “discrimination”, the Government trembles; but when Christians shout no one listens! Papa, I half expected such a report anyway, because one of the MP members of the 11- member draft committee is the honorary President of the Lib Dem Campaign for Lesbian and Gay Rights, as well as vice-president of the Gay and Lesbian Humanist Association.
At a time like this, we Christians are supposed to make a united stand but instead there are so many divisions that would make an arithmetic book green with envy. The Church needs to point out to the society ‘how to live' rather than simply reflecting society. This stand should be a clear and public one. In a time when the Christian view on the importance of family and marriage is being legislated against through the Sexual Orientation Regulations, it has never been more important for the Church to speak boldly and truthfully into a society crying out for moral anchors.
Please pray for me that I continue to make you proud in my job even though it gets extremely difficult with each passing day. May I muster the strength to stand and shine like a lighthouse upon the hill.
Tony says hi, he finally proposed to me last week. You need to see the “big rock” straddled on my slender finger. Ooooooooooh I really do love him! Can I share a secret Papa? When I am with Tony, I seem to forget most of my troubles. He is so handsome, I’m sure you’ll love him although not the way I do. Laffs!
Anyway, I need to run before I bore you with my lovey-dovey talk. Don’t forget to deliver my message to my dear uncles. I miss you all.
Expecting to hear from you soon.
Your daughter,
Gabrielle.

Commonwealth Games 2014 - Abuja or Glasgow??

2007-05-17T12:47:00.000+01:00

I have never been a fan of the Commonwealth Games (hopefully that should change sometime soon) because of two major reasons - First, it comes across as some sort of pseudo- or mini-Olympics and then secondly, it reminds me of the vestiges of British colonialism.
The Commonwealth Games was first held in Ontario, Canada in 1930 and was then known as the British Empire Games. Over the years it has grown bigger and bigger, with Africa supplying 19 of the about 72 nations (hold on, I think Zimbabwe is currently out!!!) With 19 countries, Africa is the continent with the highest number of Commonwealth nations.
The last Commonwealth Games was held last year in Melbourne, Australia and the next one is slated for Delhi, India.
However, the crux of this blog post is the current competition between Abuja, Nigeria and Glasgow, Scotland to host the 2014 edtion. Who do you think will come out tops? I had never given any thought even though I always drove past the large banner positioned in a vintage location at the end of the M8/Kingston Bridge. The banner had "Glasgow-Candidate City 2014" boldly emblazoned on it.

My eyes glanced again at the clock, as I waited to see if it was 9 o'clock so that I could hand over to my colleagues after my uneventful 24 hour call - it was a long and boring call, especially as only two patients ruffled my feathers. The nurses called me to see Mr B who had a seizure which was promptly aborted and I transferred Mr M to the surgeons after making an assessment of lower GI bleed. So I guess it wasn't so bad.
Two of my colleagues came in and we started to swap handover notes when LG suddenly asked, "Did you watch the programme on TV yesterday where one of the Nigerians on your bid committee was asked questions by a British reporter?"
"No, c'mon I was on call"
"The reporter asked if it was true that a roof of one of your sport buildings was blown off, and the guy was so confused".
"Are you sure?"
"Yep"
"Anyway, Abuja has a good chance against Glasgow - it's the most posh city in Nigeria"
Everyone laughed - I really don't know why they laughed, whether it was due to disbelief or amusement, I cannot really tell.
Since Halifax, Canada backed out of the race a few months ago due to financial reasons, Abuja has only Glasgow to contend with. I know Glasgow was voted 'most beautiful city in Europe last year by a paper', but El Rufai has also been doing a good job on Abuja. In terms of finance, the ignorant mind might think Glasgow is way ahead but to be a candidate city, a major criteria is the payment of £60, 000 which both bid committees paid. Trust Naija to have more hidden "Oil money" where that came from!
Glasgow has offered to use Hampden Park (where the UEFA Cup final was played) and Celtic park for the Games, but Nigeria has one ultramodern stadium in Abuja with a games village which hosted the last African Games. The countries that participate in the African games are much more than the Commonwealth Games. Both countries have pledged to inject more funds into their preparatory projects. They have already set up impressive websites - www.abuja2014.org and www.glasgow2014.com. The Nigerian bid team has even drawn up a Masterplan in which a Heritage city, a colossal roller coaster and rail system woud be on ground, come 2014. Glasgow has already commenced the renovating and rebuilding of several structures.
My major fears concerning for the Nigerian bid are the nation's usual fire-brigade approach when things are left till very late and the scourge of corruption. But who knows, maybe the Yakubu Gowon- led team can pull it off. They have been getting encouraging vibes from the other African countries, especially South Africa. The Commonwealth Games has never been held in Africa, and Nigeria whilst hoping to be break the jinx also want to use the occasion to celebrate her centenary anniversary (100 years after that jinxed Lugard amalgamation).
But what's my own? I will just keep my fingers crossed and wait for the winner to be announced in November at the CGF general meeting in Colombo, Sr Lanka.
Abi, wetin I for do?

"Exams" and "the doctor" - two inseparable love birds

2007-05-17T05:26:00.000+01:00

Some years ago, I read somewhere that exams started off in China many centuries ago. What was that Chinese man/woman (whoever invented it) thinking? Anyway, before I completely slag off the fellow or go off in a huff............let me blurt this all out.
One major distinguishing feature in our lives as upholders of the Hippocratic oath is that we always seem to write exams and more exams. A few years ago, when still a medical student in the University College Hospital, Ibadan, Nigeria I deemed exams as an unavoidable and necessary evil. Fine, I understand they were applied as tools to test how much we had learnt, but you need to see what happens when results are released. The experience is better seen firsthand than described. Some people danced for joy while others wailed, others (those with resits) developed parkinsonian-like masklike facies. Throughout my time as a student, I never heard of an exam with a 100% pass rate....maybe the trend was in compliance with some underlying conspiracy theory????
I graduated from medical school in 2004 without failing an exam. It had nothing to do with exhibiting highly intellectual Mensa-noid traits, guess God just smiled on me. Moreover, a few weeks after becoming a doctor I found out I scored 150/300 (50% cutoff mark) in preventive & social medicine(PSM). PSM was one of the core subjects that made up the 'final MBBS exam trinity' - the others being medicine and surgery. If I had scored a fraction of a mark lower, I would have had a resit. The story is much longer, but has been summarised for the purpose of this post.
Months before the final examinations, I drew out my personal development plan and suddenly it dawned on me. Not exactly like the euphoria Archimedes had that day in the bathtub! This was a more sober experience. To get to the peak of my career, I will have to go through years of rigorous training but much more importantly, I would have to sit numerous exams. I had only just started.
Three exams later, while preparing for yet another exam as a doctor in Glasgow I got a phone call from my girlfriend's elder sister. She had been wondering if I would ever get a leave off the "exam scene". I told her it was my fate........one of the curses for being a doctor.
Permit my analogy, but as a doctor climbs up the medical ladder (irrespective of the specialty) he/she has to get a good footing on those rungs called "examinations".
But what did I expect? Being a good doctor requires intense purification and moulding, and one of the major training tools is .............. Now you know!
The whole matter is not helped by the fact that as we grow older, get separated from friends and assume more responsibilities, the youthful exuberance and vigour ebbs away in most people. No more are the nights of self-induced insomnia, no more are the days of caffeine overdose, no more of discussion groups (not always though!) etcetera.
The system requires a CV laden with different assessment models - exams, courses etc. The medic has to 'reboot and get scanned' regularly, only then can a new software be installed. It is not always a pleasant experience ( I definitely know that, especially from my not-so-good experiences).
However, there are days when you feel it is worth it..........Days like today when I learnt I had just passed my most RECENT EXAM!
'Exams' and 'the doctor' - they might sometimes find themselves in a love-hate relationship but they are sooooooooo inseparable.

MTAS et al

2007-05-15T18:31:00.001+01:00

Go into any hospital in the United Kingdom and ask the first junior doctor you see to tell you about MTAS.......I am sure you will get a castigating look. Welcome to the MTAS world, the most popular acronym in the mouths of British doctors and maybe even news media personnel.
MTAS stands for the "Medical Training Application System" and was introduced as part of the MMC's restructuring of the training system in the NHS. Personally, there might have been some good ideas that led to its birth, but so far it has been a disaster!
All I think of when I think of MTAS, is Joseph Heller's 1961 novel - Catch 22, a satirical composition where everything seemed to defy logic.
At first, with everyone talking about a centralised style of application; it appeared awesome but with a large number of people missing out on shortlistings, lack of security for online documents and the haphazard nature of subsequent events, no one knows what to think.
A colleague at work has gone off sick for two weeks, no one knows the true nature of her illness but I strongly suspect its some MTAS-induced depressive disorder, especially since she did not get the GP job she applied for. Another friend, who is in more dire circumstances because his lovely wife is due to give birth in August has turned to the banking sector for survival - would you blame him? All of a sudden, everyone is registering with agencies in Australia and New Zealand. Some wiser ones are settled there already.
The few jobs that have been released were in Scotland, a place described by some fellow doctors as the "doctor-friendly haven" (at least, in comparism to England). Whether the haven would totally live up to the billing is another issue.
The buzz at work today was all about Patricia Hewitt (recently voted as the worst Secretary of Health - did I hear someone say 'due to the MTAS imbroglio'?) cancelling the whole thing and sayig even if it is used it will only be for data purposes. Now for the second round, its back to the old style where the deaneries have the say.
If you ask me, I would tell you I don't even think anyone knows the solution. The problem , I believe, stems from allowing non-medical personnel handle medical matters. Crazy things would happen when you leave matters in the hands of statistically-oriented people who would only want numbers to add up.
The medical profession worldwide is getting a lot of stick, the younger generation is disillusioned. Speaking with pals in Naija stirs up anger, chatting with others over here causes a different set of unpleasant emotions and then you pick up your cellie and ask the NY-based medico.......what have I gotten myself into?
Now that's at the lower rung of the ladder, it gets even worse as you climb up. Flipping through one of the dailies in the doctors' call room, I saw an article on someone who sued her doctor for some 'medical mismanagement'. She left better off with bags of cool cash while he has the monsters of "tainted GMC records" and "debts" to deal with. Look at the papers everyday and everyone seems to have a go at the NHS or their doctor. Not that I am defending the unlucky chap but everyone makes mistakes...............only that doctors are perfect and should never tread that path. you go out everyday like there is some evil UFO waiting to pick you up.
And for all that stress, we are paid peanuts (oooh, does he have to talk about money?). As the guardians of the 'human life', one would have expected some appreciation in one form or the other. Wrong!!!! Instead, the appreciation goes the way of footballers and celebrities - what a warped society we have. Imagine my shock when I heard the 21 year old midfielder, Simon Brown who earned £2000 per week at Hibs has been bought by Celtic FC and would be paid £25000 weekly. But that's even low when you take a peep at the wage slips of the more established soccer stars.
Next time, a patient complains about a disturbing ailment............My advice - tell him or her to watch a football match. We can't offer the kind of treatment those players would offer!

Politics, Money & Propanganda

2007-05-14T20:29:00.000+01:00

I spent several hours deliberating over the title of this article, so much as happened in recent weeks and I just felt so pressed to write something down. The above triumvirate is prominent in every nation of this world, P….M….P……have always been determining factors since Man set out to form societies.
If “Politics” is compared to a moving automobile, then “Money” is the functioning engine while “Propaganda” serves as the combustible fuel. Every good politician should be able to wield these three together with enviable skill. Why are they so important? The answer is easy….every politician or nation thrives or aspires to be relevant in one way or the other, and to do that, a heavily financed and well propagated political system is required.
The propaganda has extended out of the strait-jacketed political debates and has extended to websites, newspapers, and TV channels. Politicians and their PR teams will do anything to captivate an audience.
Now, over the last few weeks, one major issue has graced the dailies and TV channels…….Britain vs. Iran. While some might see the whole charade as a “no big deal” affair, I belong to the group of people who think it went much deeper than that.
Let me refresh your memories a little bit –
Scene 1: Iran defies all orders and pleas from the UN to stop its Uranium enrichment program.
Scene 2: 15 British soldiers are captured by Iranian military boats for trespassing in supposedly Iranian waters.
Scene 3: Britain claims innocence and demands release of the hostages.
Scene 4: The Iranian TV shows pictures of the captured soldiers admitting their supposed guilt. Watchers say the servicemen appeared to be under some form of duress.
Scene 5: Some British papers carry feature articles on Faye Turner (the only female among the 15), depicting her as a courageous mother and patriotic British.
Scene 6: Just a few days short of two weeks, the Iranian president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in a four hour press conference, released the prisoners. The conference was initially scheduled to last a few minutes.
He basked in the euphoria of getting the ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ worldwide attention. The whole world was watching and of course, Ahmadinejad milked it for all its worth.
Scene 7: Tony Blair, in well chosen words thanks the “Iranian people” and not the government.
Scene 8: The released servicemen give details of how they were threatened etcetera etcetera etcetera.
Scene 9: Iran says it would expand its nuclear programme at an ultra-sensitive facility, in defiance of UN calls on Tehran to stop controversial atomic activities.
At the end of the whole charade, some say Iran emerged the victor in the ring with Britain on the canvas. Some others believe Britain should be praised for not using violence means since they used “aggressive diplomacy” instead. Whatever you believe, one thing is certain though, it was a well-planned Iranian act. It was a game of propaganda and cunning politicking. Now it has become a bit more difficult to get the country to stop its nuke programme!

Being heavily financed is of great importance in politics. Money gives a voice, it gives power and status. Take for example in the US recently, Barack Obama suddenly became the sought-after bride after he raised about $25 million in his fund raising campaign. Mr. Obama, born of a Kenyan father, is only the fifth African-American Senator in American history and the only African-American currently serving in the American Senate. Shock waves rippled through the political waters as he nearly equalled Hilary Clinton’s $26 million despite not having her ‘degree of connections’.
The love of money is a serious matter, get a lot of money and you who had been forsaken by all, would suddenly be surrounded by hordes of praise singers. They would wear out their vocal cords just to please you and get into your good books.
In the elections of many nations, aspirants fight tooth and nail, sometimes killing each other in a bid to reduce the competition for a particular office. All because of money!
As Christians, where do we stand in all these? It would be stupid to underestimate the value of good financing or effective information dissemination before heading into politics but all our actions should be within our God-ordained confines. Nothing else beats “walking according to God’s will”.
For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty. 1 Timothy 2 v 2

Women, please help us!!!!

2007-05-13T20:13:00.000+01:00

The topic of this article is not a cry of desperation from bachelors, earnestly crying out for soul mates, it is a cry for something else. Something much different…politics!
Next year 2008, may see three of the world’s strongest nations have female leaders – Hilary Clinton has started her campaign in the United States of America, Segolene Royal of the French Socialist Party is tipped to be France’s next president and Angela Merkel already sits atop of the national entity called Germany.
Two decades ago, Indira Gandhi (India’s third Prime Minister), “Iron Lady” Margaret Thatcher (former prime minister of Britain) and Pakistan’s Benazir Bhutto were the most popular females in world politics. They were the only women to have ascended to top political positions in their respective countries – Gandhi from 1966 to 1977 and again from 1980 to 1984, Thatcher from 1979 to 1990, and Bhutto from 1988 to 1990 and 1993 to 1996.
Before them, there was Sirimavo Bandaranaike, the first woman prime minister of any nation. Mrs. Bandaranaike was the prime minister of Ceylon (now known as Sri Lanka) from 1960 – 1965, 1970 – 1977 and then 1994 to 2000. These women have inspired young girls around the world that they too could become prime ministers one day.
Today, we perhaps see the results of such dreams, with women dominating politics in Asia, South America, Africa and Europe. Last time I checked, there were six female presidents (in Liberia, Chile, Finland, Ireland, Latvia, and The Philippines) and seven women prime ministers (in Germany, Jamaica, New Zealand, Mozambique, South Korea, Bangladesh and The Netherlands Antilles). The number might have increased!
The story of Ellen Sirleaf-Johnson always keeps me fascinated. She first became involved in government when she became Assistant Minister of Finance in President William Tolbert's administration in 1979. As a senatorial candidate in 1985, she spoke out against the ruling military regime, and for her efforts got a ten-year prison sentence. Released after a short period, she remained focused and still kept eyes on the coveted prize. Today, she is Liberia’s president.
Over the years, different countries have been trying to increase female participation in politics but several issues like gender discrimination, family issues and maternal duties have remained stubborn obstacles. The whole matter is not helped by the fact, that most women liken the political terrain to a guillotine machine or a blood-drenched battlefield.
Most women have unique intrinsic qualities that would make them good leaders. They participate passionately in the upholding and promotion of social and family morals. In society, women promote civilization, care about public welfare and participate in environmental protection. In office settings, women seem to be better “multi-task” experts than their male colleagues (I hope the guys don’t crucify me for this). Within families, women advocate love and harmony between couples, respect elder family members and care about the weak, educate the children and ensure hygienic lifestyles.
So c’mon, Miss or Mrs., what else are you waiting for? Help us because we really need you.

Once upon a time in a Christian nation........

2007-05-13T19:56:00.000+01:00

2200 hours
Council chambers
Gabrielle thought of the protest rally, she had been told about it by a fellow church member but could not attend because of the meeting with the Transport secretary. She really wanted to fight for her faith. She had only been in local politics for four years and although still a rookie, she had not expected the ease at which certain laws were passed, and now this………
The phone rang and Gabrielle dashed across the council chambers: she knew Tony would definitely call. He must have heard the latest news, because he was on his annual leave, and had been away for two weeks holidaying in Tenerife. She could not believe what she just heard on the radio.
Tony: “Hi Gabrielle, did you hear the news? I just had to call you. I can’t believe what’s going on”.
Gabrielle: “Are you talking about the protest against the Sexual Orientation Regulations? I am also listening to the reports over the radio”
Tony: “Are they not the laws meant to come into force in April and are supposed to prevent discrimination against same sex couples. Reports show that it means priests could be sued for refusing to bless same-sex civil partnerships under the rules”.
Gabrielle: “Yeah I know. It also means that no hotel owners would be allowed to turn down such couples, unless they could be fined. A petition signed by 10,000 concerned Christians was delivered to the Queen earlier in the day, but I don’t know how effective that will be”.
Tony: “I get so bothered by all the recent news; I can’t believe this is a Christian nation”.
Gabrielle: “Seems we are losing all that, and as a politician, all these events baffle me every day”.
Tony: “I guess they are all signs of the end times. Things have really changed”
Gabrielle: “Once upon a time, children were taught in accordance with God’s word and had daily morning prayers in schools”.
Tony: “But now, they are taught on the theories of evolution and to expect daddy-daddy or mummy-mummy combinations, instead of the norm”
Gabrielle: “Once upon a time, the ruling monarch was known as the ‘defender of the faith’.
Tony: “But now, the monarch-to-be wants to be called ‘defender of the faiths’.
Gabrielle: “Once upon a time, the churches used to be full to the brim with people earnestly waiting on God, but now……”
Tony: “About 50, 000 troop weekly into a local team’s stadium earnestly waiting to see a striker’s goal”
Gabrielle: “Years ago, the gospel was taken from this land to distant shores by passionate missionaries like David Livingstone”.
Tony: “Look around now, and no one wants to hear the word of God”
Gabrielle: “Christians used to be proud of their faith with heads lifted high”
Tony: “Now, Christians like Nadia Ewedia get victimized for wearing a chain with a cross on her neck. Remember her, the British Airways employee?
Gabrielle: “Christmas used to be a time to reminisce on God’s ultimate gift to mankind and his blessings all year round”
Tony: “But now Christmas is only special because it is a time of shopping, shopping and more shopping. Goodbye ‘O come all ye faithful’ and welcome ‘O come all ye tasteful’ “.
Gabrielle: “Ha ha ha ha! Now, let me tell you something funny, the protest was not really aired on TV. Most networks seemed to focus on Tony Blair’s meeting with Shinzo Abe, the Japanese prime minister. I only got to hear more of the event after flicking through the radio channels, I think it was on purpose”.
Tony: “Gabrielle, what should we do as Christians?. The nation needs God’s help”
Gabrielle: Hmmmmmmm (deep in thought).
Suddenly, the phone goes dead.
Gabrielle: “Hello! Tony! Hello! Hello! Hello! What happened? Oh my God!”