Tuesday, 29 May 2012

The Diary of a Rookie Health Worker


When we closed school, I thought I could still manage to post weekly but am soon realizing that home is simply not an academic background .Am not of course claiming that blogging is scholarly but then the program used –Ms Word as opposed to VLC media player would surely make a brother think so. A lot of interesting things have happened of late, as you well know a week doesn’t go by without drama around me. The reason for that am yet to establish but the hypothesis have placed so far is that am rounded by crazy people. Crazy in a good way though.
The last time I posted, the future seemed so bright and it was like my life was finally taking off what with the attachment looming and finally an opportunity to be something and do something for somebody. The attachment of course did kick off and it isn’t a bed of roses as I initially thought. One would think that if some young bright hardworking student (in case I lost you thee am describing me) offered his services to an institution pro bono then it’s obvious that the answer should be yes.

However, it seems human resource managers don’t think so, if at all they do think in the first place. I won’t narrate to you though the frustrations of a second year population health student trying to entrench himself in the job market. Sometimes though I wonder how securing a job will be difficult especially with the noose of remuneration lurking in the background. One can only hope though.
I won’t narrate how you have to explain to any prospective employer how you have to conjure up some explanations as to what it’s all about, the differences between population health and community health or public health for instance. And it’s not that I don’t, it’s just that nobody asks nutritionists or reproductive health specialists what their program is all about. Surely it can’t be that difficult. Population health is simply health of the population.
The silver lining in this story is that every day I grow closer to earning my full names. I was born Robert Ouko son of Aseda named after Dr John Robert Ouko Seda, a former politician whose death at the hands of the powers that was still remains an open mystery. From childhood my mother always made an attempt to compare us, not just in our shared love for the politics of the day, our desire to influence others to take a certain path among others. Of course am not claiming am anything like him but he has always been my inspiration in life. I have always had this desire to topple his achievements, even though it’s such a toll order. So when an opportunity to pursue my degree course came, I took it with two hands because that was the closest I could ever get to doing medicine after all anybody who works in a hospital qualifies as a doctor right? Don’t ask me why I can’t just do MBChB.
Now that am talking about working in a hospital, I should probably mention a few things lest I forget. Whereas it’s sometimes prestigious to strut around like colossus in a clean, crisp and white lab coat, it can sometimes leave you with an egg in the face. If there is a skill I have perfected from my time in Mama Lucy Kibaki hospital is the craft of evasion. Sometimes a patient thinks so highly of you and asks you questions beyond your job description. Instead of rudely chasing them away, you pretend to listen while feigning attention and taking the first opportunity you get to get scarce. You are suddenly picking an important phone call or attending to more serious mattes never mind that you are probably rushing to sit on a bench somewhere facebooking. And it’s not for a lack of caring it’s just that telling a patient just how blank you are in that scope of study won’t endear you so much to them. You just conjure up some explanations and point to the relevant door and take your exit.
Another thing that am soon learning fast is that lunch isn’t as integral a part of meal as I initially that it was. It’s sometimes though ironic that I have to counsel patients on the importance of not skipping a meal and yet go ahead and do the same thing. One disadvantage of going to Kenyatta University is that it exposes you to cheap avenues for meals. Fifty bob for example would ensure that you treat yourself to a plate of rice, beef and some few chapatis or even ugali and beef. I guess that way am having a hard time coughing that amount of money for some dondoo in the KM of Kayole. Maybe I should just remain true to my Luopean calling and stop being stingy. One can see the effect bad company of half Luos likes Mchil and Ragen can have on a person.
I must admit though that the first time I heard of the name Mama Lucy it sounded like the name of some roadside kiosk or some famous mama in a neighborhood who was trying to cut a niche for herself in the food industry. I was right about one thing though that the Mama Lucy in this case is definitely famous. That it’s Level Four though doesn’t sound right. Among the most conspicuous characters in this hospital is one Mr. Mwangi, the District Public Health Officer or Mwas as the ladies of the joint baptized him. The first time I saw him he was wearing a blue suit though the trousers knots refused to touch the ground. I thought he might have overgrown the suit but seeing him every other day in similar suits, am beginning to think that’s just his unique sense of fashion.
Mr. Mwangi is a soft spoken guy, who one would definitely confuse for soft. He however, dispelled such rumors when we crossed his paths. It was a funny sight as he expresses his frustrations at us for going behind his back and assuming roles he had not assigned us to. He doesn’t have much work to do though as he just sits in his office with his phone I presume chatting on 2go.Am sure he can’t wait for free Wi-Fi to be instilled in the hospital to cut his boredom. Of course I would love to describe his fellow officer who just sits basking in the sun or making to a trip to Kwa Monica to treat himself to some nice chapatis way before lunch but one shouldn’t bite the hands that feed them. He is also on twitter, and he might be following my updates and I won’t wish for the baptism of fire again anytime soon.
If any one comes to Mama Lucy, probably the first guy you would get to meet is Jacques. One can’t really describe him because he is the typical good guy who occasionally likes to  embarrass his juniors for fun to remind himself that he is still boss. The second day I interacted with him would definitely stick in my brain for a long time. Due to the Nairobi jams punctuated with morning rains, I got to work at about ten and got him giving a health talk. As usual, I proceeded to my seat to begin my days work but Jacques it seemed had better ideas. As soon as he spotted me, he began shouting that I go back to whoever told me to come late .I wish I could explain to him that the matatu I had boarded that morning had probably left to God knows where. Maybe it’s what he did next that maimed and transfixed me into the ground.  
He then made as if to pull some imaginary trigger using his fingers as if he was some Jack Bauer and announced that he was Jacques. The women there stared at me in a strange way that for the first time I hoped I was invisible and invincible. He has however atoned for that patchy start with ensuring that we get some regular tea though. He may have confused me with our Luhya brothers, buts it’s still a gesture anyway. He calls everybody ‘my ndia’ and he even though he is a little biased for the female species, one can’t really blame him for that. However the demeanor of a guy who has made it in life has been replaced by the image of a caring man who goes to all extents to ensure that our welfare is looked it. One can only wonder what has changed within that short time. The answer to that won’t of course require rocket science.
I would be extremely incomplete if I dint mention Jane and Vane. These ladies are the perfect version of true African beauty; extremely blessed downstairs and not so flat on the anterior side either as well .there are some of the motivations for getting to work on those days, yes those ones. So if I take a few more weeks at the nutrition department and the cash area don’t think it will be purely for stamp purposes.
Being at the hospital has been a rollercoaster ride. It has its flurry of activities and there are those days that we just sit on a bench and wait for our dear Mwas to clear some meeting or finish processing some certificate for a food handler at Burma market. Other days though have a flurry of activities .There is this lady that we had to transfer her asphyxic neonatal born to KNH. That feeling of importance as we raced along the corridors of the hospital gathering the necessary paperwork and arranging the required paraphernalia is one that I haven’t had in a long time. As I pushed the oxygen trolley into the waiting ambulance, it however did return. It is slowly dissipating though.
My short stint at this convalescent home has definitely improved my vocabulary though. Normal conversation discussing non events the acquisition of a Belgian playmaker by some nondescript team who rode their luck to continental glory has been replaced by conversation rich in content. Words like Asphyxia, palpating ,date of delivery,-back rubs, stethoscope, foetoscope, Mid Upper Arm Circumference, anorexia bulimia, fractures among others is all that come out of my buccal cavity these days. In case I lost you there, don’t worry, they are just some of the basic terms I use every day in the discharge of my duties. Dr Gregory House would be willing to educate you on some and even add a few others to the list.
Am sorry, I can’t go on writing, there is a complicated case of anorexia nervosa that I need to take care of.  

Till next time!








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