NYSC Orientation Camp Day Six ; Where Is My Fun, Huh?

Tuesday

I wake up and I feel the same as I felt yesterday; tired and in need of more sleep. I am also late today, so I just wipe my face and clean my mouth. I dress up in my usual white-on-white, save my waist purse. The purse is torn so it will be more of a burden than anything else and I head out. Halfway through to the parade ground, I decide I’m too tired for the early morning drills and do a round-about turn, heading to the clinic instead. Don’t get me wrong, the early morning parade is fun but even fun has it’s limits. ?‍♀️

I check my phone and realize the dance competition held the previous night and I missed it. That must have been the reason my phone was ringing continuously. Not only did I miss it, I realized that the money I contributed for my costume was a waste and my team still didn’t qualify. Well, there’ll be more competitions to win!

INERTIA

I get to the clinic and attend to about 15 patients before I quit again. What’s with all the inertia? I go to the wards and just crash into a bed. It takes a while for me to sleep but eventually I do. Before I can sleep up to one second, I feel someone tapping me to wake. Like hell, can the universe just align in my favor already??? The sensory stimulus is there and quite persistent, they are asking me to get up. It seems some really important personnel is coming to inspect the clinic and must not catch me sleeping. I try to send the motor signals to my feet, so I can get up. Trust me, I really do try, but there’s a thought block somewhere along my synapses and I just sink into a much deeper sleep. In my dream, I hear voices of Fro, and some other people. (Fro is the name we call the second clinic head, she is the partner in crime to Madam Rosacea. Fro is short for Afro which is the hairstyle she has on for the first 5 days of this program. In truth, she has changed it to some form of twists but it’s didn’t alter her face much so, Fro will stick.)

I hear them discuss “we”; the sleeping crew with whoever this important personnel is. The first person sleeping has plasmodiasis and is receiving IV fluids, the second person has ecchymoses secondary to some trauma she sustained during the drills. When they get to me, my diagnosis is severe exhaustion from seeing multiple patients and excess drills. ?That’s close enough to the truth. Innit?

SNORES OR NOT

When I wake up, the CMD tells me the Governor of Lagos and the Clinic Heads came for inspection and that I was difficult to arouse from my state of sleepiness. He looks serious as he delivers this speech and I believe him, as I’m not fully awake. He also says our photos were taken, along with a video the state intends to use for a televised documentary.
Great ?, bloody great. Not only did the governor catch me sleeping, now the whole of Lagos may get to watch me sleep.
I reply the CMD saying “Babajide Sanwo-Olu just got the privilege of watching me sleep” that’s the only thing I can tell myself to prevent that bad feeling that comes with having being caught sleeping on duty.

Everybody that enters the room continues to tease me about it. It’s fun until the CMD comes in and says I was snoring in my sleep. ?
Voila. ?
There you have it.
Proof that they are lying: The chances that I’d snore is half as high as my chances of bed-wetting or falling off a bunk, so I know, this is all a tease. I tell him exactly that and he admits that the governor part was false, although the Platoon Commandant really did come to inspect.

TAILORING BANTS

I sleep some more and almost die of sleep.
How can one human being be this exhausted? ?‍♀️ When I eventually wake, I exercise myself by heading to Mamy-market to repair my torn waist belt. The lady asks me to empty all the contents so she can get to work and I comply.
She threads the needle to her machine and just as she is about to start sewing it up, she tells me I’d have to pay 250 for her services. ?
Ahan!!!
Why now?
My face changes.
I’m slightly triggered.
I’m also too weak to price it.
Repair work of that sort is 50 naira.
I’ve seen other people come to repair at that cost, so this is plain extortion in broad daylight.

I start to pack my stuff back into the purse because I don’t have it in me to negotiate. I’m that tired and mentally uninterested. All the tailors there look at me and beg me to please price. I just lift up a finger to signify that I won’t. Just as I’m about to leave the place, the tailor who referred me to the repair lady pays 100 naira of her money and asks her to repair the purse. ?

I pause halfway and look up at her face.
First, I have this look of “am I a joke to you?” ? This is because I have to empty out the purse again. Second, I feel confused ?  because I’m not sure what is really going on. Am I supposed to be grateful that she paid for it or should I feel mocked? ?‍♀️
I decide I don’t care and I just focus on emptying the purse again, hoping to God that she won’t withdraw her sponsorship.

The purse is repaired and all through the process, the women are talking amongst themselves saying how they suspect I’m the kind of woman that would be difficult to mess with. Apparently, they were expecting me to drag the price back and forth and all that drama. For real, will I be dragging 50 naira with them? Surprisingly the woman repairing my property apologizes for calling the outrageous price. My face stays straight ? all through this banter because who gets apologized to for unfair pricing at a market known for extorting corpers. Also, I’m wondering, just how mean does my serious face look? It’s nearly the fifth time I’ve watched that facial expression snap people back into order and I know I’m honestly not a mean fellow.

DAMN ID’s

Someone glances at me from head to toe and while taking the phenotypic survey reads my ID card which says “Doctor on duty”. She announces to the other tailors that I’m a doctor and another round of banter starts.

Oops ?.I’m so not ready for this.
I should have taken off the damn tag. I guess everything that has its good also has its bad. They quibble about how doctors are honorable and supposedly “endlessly patient”. I roll my eyes. ? (Gbogbo talk yii o neccestrii, because the manipulation will not work on me) Someone also chips in that doctors are rich and don’t need to price market items to get by. ?? If my bank account hears this, there’s a huge chance it would protest and feel mocked.
I keep my face straight because how do I convince them this is not the case?

When she is done, I hand her 200 naira and say a very polite thank you ma. I do this because my mom raised me well, because I appreciate her apology, because I’m proud enough to not want to be indebted to the fellow who paid 100 naira on my behalf even though I also appreciate it and lastly because they have such high regard for doctors, I won’t be the one to reduce it.

I go back to the clinic and just focus on reading a novel. I’m too bored to do anything else and I’m definitely not going back to sleep.

A lot of doctors are reclining in the room and my novel reading is punctuated with the occasional gist that comes up.

Around 6, I’m called to consult patients in the clinic as the people there are exhausted and need a break. I happily go, excited to be needed but also in no mood to be unnecessarily triggered.

It’s the typical blur ! People tend to have the same complaints. I’m not really interested. Documenting is feeling tedious. My handwriting is complaining and it keeps getting progressively unintelligible to me. Someone compliments it anyway because he can read my words up-side-down from across the table. I guess my case is not that bad.

FALSIFIED RECORDS

This girl comes in. Her medical report states that she is Hepatitis C surface antigen positive with a sputum M/C/S that is negative for Tuberculosis after a long 48 hours of incubation (this is the point where you roll your eyes).
She had earlier presented the report to Nengi who had told her the report was a falsified document and that we would not be endorsing it. She flies into a rage and starts to shout obscenities at everyone in sight and I just look at her. ? I end the conversation/rant by announcing very loudly that I have seized that report and if I hear one more negative word from the bearer, I’d be tearing the report in pieces. Immediately the room becomes peaceful and calm. The girl walks out and continues to rant outside. Nengi asks me not to tear it, so we can have her falsified document in our evidence vault. In about 4 minutes, I’m told that the girl is seated outside the clinic crying. This is the second falsified medical report she is presenting for certification.

All in all, this has been a boring day. I realize I’ve missed my job?. My stressful job. I can’t believe I’m admitting to missing stress ?. It’s more in line with my future aspirations. I miss dealing with the wonder that is the human kidney. ? Kidneys kept me working round the clock. And as I make this realization, I tell myself this dull mundane cycle of clinic activities is not for me. I want to do the fun stuff or nothing at all.

I say a prayer to God to work things out for me as I’m still undecided about where I’d like my PPA to be. A lot of commutation and permutations go into that particular decision making.
Que sera-sera.