Gogo X

When I was a little intern doing Orthopaedics, I had a very scary Reg. (registrar - doctor who's specialising). His name was J, not Dr J, just J. He was bald, he was never without a cigarette and he was mean. So mean, he even made me cry. He prayed on weak, little, white girls, destroying their confidence within mere seconds. I had the priviledge of being on call with him for a WHOLE weekend.

We were sitting in the tearoom having a break, when the ward phoned me to say,

"Dokotela, you must come quick!"

I had learnt quickly, to not race to the ward, as it was often only a minor thing that was needed such as a signature on a death certificate, but luckily in Orthopaedics, no one died, or infrequently.

"Is it a patient?"

"Yes, it is Gogo X. You must come quick!"

Gogo X was a 80-something year old Gogo, who had broken her hip and was awaiting a hip replacement, which could sometimes take weeks. She was in the ward until then, bedbound (or so we thought).

"Is Gogo X still breathing?"

The usual response is "No she is GAAAASPing!"

"Yes," the nurse admitted.

"OK I'll be there in 10 minutes."

J had overheard the conversation....

"Right let's go see what it is," he barked.

What? He never troubled himself with minor things such as ward work. Why did he want to come with? I put it down to sheer boredom.

I headed for the stairs, as it is was only 2 flights up, but J NEVER took the stairs and would wait for a lift, no matter how long it took, even for one floor. So as his junior, I stood next to him whilst we filled the silence with awkward toe-tapping and thumb-twiddling.

As we finally walked into the female orthopaedics ward, nothing could prepare me for the sight we were about to witness.

Gogo X was standing! Yip standing. On a broken hip. And she was wielding a crutch. Around her were about 9 "security" guards fanned out in a circle. (I say "security" because if you've ever worked in a government hosiptal, you will know that these are the most useless fuckers around! The only time you ever need them, is when restraining a patient and then they miraculously vanish. They are almost as useless as the lab "receptionist".)

Anyway....she was swishing her crutch around trying to hit the useless fuckers. She was ranting something in Zulu, and quite frankly looked completely off her rocker, which is common in the 80-something category. J marched up to her and grabbed her by the neck of her hospital gown. He lifted her effortlessly with one hand and plonked her back in her cot bed. I meanwhile had got a syringe of diazepam, to knock Gogo X out, before she fractured her "good" hip. J restrained her, whilst the security guards looked on, completely amazed. I quickly applied a tourniquet and was injecting her as she turned to me....

"Haai voetsek!" she screamed at me as she spat in my face.

Yip. She. Had. Just. Spat.In My. Face.

Before I knew what was happening, J had grabbed her head and turned it to face him.

" Don't you EVER f*%king spit in a doctor's face! EVER! She is trying to help you!" he roared.

He instantly spat back in her face. Not just a small bit of spittle, but a proper honk-it-up-from-within-Zulu-style spit. As if it was a completely natural thing to do in return.

He frog-marched me out of the ward and back to the tearoom and made me a cup of tea.

And that was the day that the mad-bald-spitting J, became my hero.........


LMM

xoxo

Meet Christina

Today I'm taking a trip down Memory Lane and back to the Labour Ward!

Enter Christina............

Christina was pregnant...........................with twins.

Christina also had a psychiatric disorder, which had been made worse by the fact that she was pregnant.

Her husband had brought her into the hospital because she became delusional at home and he was concerned.

"Hello Doctor. You have to help me! I want these babies out of ME! They must come out now. I don't want them anymore."

"But Christina, the babies are still too small and won't survive on their own. They need to stay in your tummy and grow a bit more." I explained.

"No. I don't care. You must take them out or I will."

Christina ended up spending 3 weeks in the ward, as we were worried about what she would do.

Eventually the day of her caesarian section arrived. Christina had coped quite well up until this point, despite her delusions.

In the theatre, she started to become agitated and demanded water. We explained that she couldn't have any right now but after the operation we could give her some. I was doing the caesar and she started to wriggle around and scream....

"...water Water WATER!" but the way she said it, it sounded like wa-TA, wa-TA!

"Please Jesus help me! I need wa-TA!"

Our senior doctor, who was very religious, then proceeded to tell her that Jesus would not help her, unless she behaved, and acted like a good mother. This sent her off into a complete spin.....

"Je-SUS, Je-SUS JE-SUS!"

She continued this crazed chanting........

When the operation was finally over and she was handed her two beautiful baby boys, she started to sing to them and kissed each one gently on the forehead. This just proves how motherhood can change you.

Ten months later, I came across Christina again, one night in the Emergency Room. One of the twins was sick.

"Hello Christina. How are you? Do you remember me?" I asked, not expecting much.

"Yes, yes. You took my babies out. Thank you! But now one of them is sick. Bandile has been vomiting."

In the Swazi culture, twins always had similar names. Dudu and Gugu. Siphokazi and Siphosethu. And Bandile and Andile.

The two boys were healthy and well looked after, and Bandile recovered quickly. Christina had completely transformed into a stable and competent, loving mother. That is the one part of my job that I love...seeing the same patient later on and finding that everything is perfect.

LMM
xoxo

Meet Khuzwayo

Time to meet another legendary patient.................

KHUZWAYO



I met Khuzwayo in 2008, whilst I was working in a Medical Ward. It was supposed to be a stepdown medical ward, but was in fact a psych ward. Khuzwayo was a psych patient. He. Was. CRAZY!

Every morning I would arrive in the ward and prepare to start seeing all the patients. I would start in the front and make my way to the back of the ward. Khuzwayo's bed was at the back, but he could not wait there patiently for me to see him. Every few minutes he would come running up to me. Each day he had a new riddle for me and they went something like this........

Day 1      "Tell me Dokotela, what is the relationship between you and a parachute?"

Day 2      "Dokotela, what is the realtionship between you and paradise?"

Day 3      "One question, what is the realtionship between you and a parasite?"

and so it went on......each day a new question, always with the prefix para-

Initially I would try to answer these riddles, but after a while I would simply ask him to go back to his bed and stop bothering me. Khuzwayo demanded an answer and attention, and if he didn't get either he would unceremoniously, without fail, collapse to the floor and start to have a "seizure".

I call it a "seizure" because it wasn't in the slighest wave, shape or form a real one, but regardless he would start jerking his body and if you were lucky some drool would come out of the corner of his mouth. The first time he did this I called the nurse for some valium and she swiftly told me....

"Eish, that Khuzwayo is a faker. Don't believe his silly ways. Just leave him!"

On any given day, one could see Khuzwayo running around various parts of the hospital grounds. His ward was a lockdown ward, but being somewhat of a Houdini, he would always manage an escape. One day whilst driving towards the gate to leave the Hospital, I saw him lying on the ground, having a "seizure", whilst security gurads rushed to his aid. He had one eye open, to survey the situation and as they approached him, he made a full "recovery" and sprinted away.

Ah Khuzwayo.......

xoxo

Minnie Mouse

Today I would like to introduce you to Minnie Mouse. Let me take a moment to digress....When famous celebs check into hotels, they often use fake names. I had a patient who did that today...

Enter Minnie Mouse...

She didn't actually call herself that, but I like the ring to it. I have seen a lot of kinds of crazy before. Working in psych wards, you get to see all colours of the rainbow when it comes to psych patients. But today I got to see a new kinda crazy. Minnie Mouse, is what you would call a board certified LOON!

She came in today to get tested for HIV as she had slept with someone 10 days ago and the condom fell off. She had waited painstakingly for those 10 days to elapse, because you can only do the test after 10 days.

She walked into the room and before I could say anything...

"So I had sex with this guy and I think I might have HIV. Could I have HIV? Do you think I have it? Tell me as a friend, be honest. Do I have HIV?....." and HIV is pronounced Hach-I-V in England.

"OK, calm down and tell me what happened and why you think you could have HIV," I replied evenly.

She tells me the story and suddenly bursts into tears. She fishes boxes of tablets out of her handbag.

"See I'm very anxious so I have to take all of these pills. They keep me calm, but I haven't been taking them. I can't sleep, I can't eat. I'm going to die! I have HIV!"

This continues for another 20 minutes.

"I gave a fake name, cos I'm worried the bank will see that I've tested and not give me a loan....." hence the Minne Mouse. And since when did HSBC have the power to access medical records?

"I am so worried. Do you think I have HIV? I am never going to have sex EVER again!" Ya right!

I took her bloods after showing her the clean needle 4 times and then proceeded to complete the forms.

"The blood results will be out in 4-5 working days, so that means you can phone us on Monday for the results." I explained.

"Why does it take so long? Do they go overseas?" she squeaked.

"No, its just that the test is specialised and takes that long to be performed."

"Ok, I'll just stay here and wait for the results then, " she stated matter of factly.

"Well you can't stay here for 4 days, that just isn't possible,"  RETARD!

"So you will start the test now?"

"No, it has to go to a lab. We send it via courier and then they start the test."

I start filling out the from.

"Can you mark that urgent and ask it to be ready for Saturday?"

"I can mark it urgent, but it takes 4-5 days so it won't be ready then." How many more times must I explain this?

"But can you write for Saturday on it?"

"Ok, I will." I mark it urgent, but leave out the Saturday as the Lab will think that I'm a retard.

"Can I see the form, so I can check you wrote Saturday?"  Good God!!!!

I reluctantly hand over the form.

"You didn't write Saturday," she said accusingly.

"Ok, I'll add it!"

"Can I see now, I need to make sure."

I hand over the form, where I have added Saturday in miniscule writing.

"Can I wait for the courier, so I can ask him to make it for Saturday?"

"No, you can't. he just collects the sample and takes it to the Lab. Please don't harrass him, he has nothing to do with the test."

"But can I just see him and have a chat with him?"

"No."

"Ok, can I just see you give the blood to him?"

I am going to kill this woman!

She ended up waiting in the reception area and plaguing the receptionist, for the next hour, pleading her to tell her that she didn't have HIV. She finally left and for the next 3 days she phoned every 2 hours to see if the results are back. People like that should not have sex. EVER.


xoxo

Flashback Fridays

I want to take a moment to introduce you to some of my favourite patients of all time. These are the pearlers that I remember. For whatever rhyme or reason, they had an influence on me. I will be introducing a new one each Friday.

Firstly, may I introduce............

Gogo Grace.

Gogo is a term used to describe an African grandmother. We often call patients Gogo. In the Zulu culture, it is a term of respect and even one of endearment. Gogo Grace looked like she was 102, but was probably more along the lines of 86. She didn't know her birth date, a common finding amongst the elderly Black population. This particular Gogo was in a surgical ward and wasn't quite mentally "all there".
She hated me from the first day I met her. I had to take blood from Gogo Grace, and she despised me for this. Elderly people often have the most terrible veins and it is a truly frustrating experience trying to get enough blood to even fill 2 tubes. Eventually I had resorted to taking femoral blood (blood from the femoral vein). This involved sticking a needle into Gogo Grace's groin. She really despised this. She shrieked and groaned, whilst being held down by 2 nurses. People behind the curtain must've thought I was killing her. Gogo Grace definitely thought I was killing her. I had to continue to work in that ward for another 2 months, and Gogo Grace, made it a living hell.

Everyday she would sit up in her cot bed and wait for me to walk past. She would then have some food (rice, carrot, potatoe....whatever they were serving) in her clawed hand, which she then proceeded to hurl at my head. Come rain or shine, each day, some edible thing would be lobbed at me. I even avoided meal times, but she would keep these morsels, hidden away, until I eventually came to the ward, and always had precision aim. I would arrive at the cafeteria for lunch, with bits of rice with gravy in my hair, that I had missed. Colleagues would point and say, "Did Grace get you again?"

Gogo Grace never spoke one word to me in 2 months. All I ever got was a grunt, or on a bad day, a scream. I eventually only filled out forms for her and left the procedures, like taking blood, to some poor other member of my team.

The last time I saw Gogo Grace, was about 3 years ago, but I will never forget her!

xoxo