December | 2013 | Novelist

I wasn’t looking forward to this day though I was brought up to take each day as it comes. My mother used to say, “No day is bad, it all depends on what you make of it.” Even if it was a difficult day, she would say, “But calmness comes after the storm.” Sometimes I struggled with this philosophy that mother had tried to implant in me. More so today, another theatre day.

The mother of the boy with complicated circumcision had waited for us on the ward. And as we arrived, she looked like she was going to burst. I took my place behind Dr Braver but he was too small to shield me. I prayed that he handled this issue sensitively. Getting it wrong would lead to real trouble that afternoon.

“So what have you got to tell me, Sir?” The boy’s mother asked.

“Not a lot. Have you heard what happened?” Dr Braver asked.

“You tell me. You are the doctor,” she replied, her eyeballs now looking too big for the orbit.

“O.K. then,” he said, after clearing his throat, “Well, there was a small injury to the willy and I have repaired it.”

“Thank God,” I said to myself, “At least this time he didn’t blame it on his registrar.”

“You have repaired it. Is that all you can tell me?” She screamed, “Do you know what you’ve done to this poor boy? You’ve ruined his life!”

“Actually I didn’t cause the injury. He had balanitis which made the foreskin to be adherent to the tip of his willy and when I tried to separate it a small part of the tip came off. But I have repaired it,” Dr Braver replied, with a low voice.

“If you had done it properly this would not have happened,” she said, with her hands gripping her waist.

“Who told you that I didn’t do the operation properly?” He thundered.

“The people who were with you in the theatre. That’s what everybody has been saying,” she said, now looking like a boxer waiting for the bell to ring for a fight.

“What!” He screamed, and stared at me as if to ask if I was party to the gossips.

Thank God, I didn’t stay behind after the list. I was pretty certain I had not discussed any patient with anybody. But of course, he should know by now that people would always discuss issues of interest. I wouldn’t have thought that someone would directly inform the patient’s mother about the details of the incident. Besides, it was against the hospital policy and any member of staff who had done that would be in real trouble.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve butchered my son!” She screamed, “I will complain to the hospital authority.”
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“O.K. I’ve heard you. I have not butchered your son. I have repaired the affected area and expected everything to be fine. But of course, you have the right to complain. And you may do so. As for the person or persons who have instigated you by providing wrong information, they will have themselves to blame. Good day,” he said and stormed out of the ward.

I had anticipated this when I saw the woman. She looked like a no nonsense person and I had no doubt in my mind she would stir real trouble for the department. Meanwhile, I tried not to get involved and walked out quickly before she or any of the nurses had chance to ask me questions.

I sank myself in one of the chairs in the doctors’ room. I needed a bit of time to myself. As I pondered over all the procedures that we had carried out that day, my bleep went off. I almost dropped the bleep when I saw that the number that appeared on it was Dr Braver’s office. At first, I wanted to ignore it. After all, it was the end of the day and I could pretend to have left the hospital. But I knew, of course, that if Dr Braver wanted me he could phone me at home or wherever I might be and whatever the time might be.

As they say, “If you stand up to your demons they would not overcome you.” I dialled the number with a trembling hand, hoping that no one would pick it. My heart stopped completely when he picked the phone. His voice was unmistakable.

“Doctor,” he commanded, “Leave whatever you are doing and get yourself here straightaway.”

“Yes, Dr Braver,” I replied, my heart now out of my body.

“This sounds serious,” I said to myself. But then, he always sounded serious whenever he called. However, it was unusual for him to call me directly. Normally, he would tell his secretary to make the call or leave instructions with her. Had he known that I was going out with Anna? Or that his wife fancied me? Did he really think that I was the person who told the boy’s mother about the injury? I battled with these thoughts as I raced to his office.

“Yes, Dr Braver?” I said, my arm pit dripping with sweat.

“Tell me. Who told that idiot that I did not do the circumcision in the normal way?”

“The idiot?” I asked, pretending not to know that he was referring to the boy’s mother.

“Yes, the boy’s mother,” he said, his voice stronger.

“I did not discuss with anyone. Besides, I don’t believe in discussing things that go on in the theatre. That is not my problem.”

He took a long look at me as he struck his lips lightly with his gold pen. And then he broke the silence. “Shall we make a deal?”

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As I wondered about going to her, my bleep went off. I almost dropped the bleep when I saw that the number that appeared on it was Dr Braver’s office. At first, I thought of ignoring it. After all, it was the end of the day and I could pretend to have left the hospital. But I knew, of course, that if Dr Braver wanted me he could phone me at home or wherever I might be and whatever the time might be. I remembered what my mother used to tell me, “If you stand up to your demons they would not overcome you.”

I dialled the number with trembling hand, hoping that no one would pick it. My heart stopped completely when he picked the phone. His voice was unmistakable.

“Doctor,” he commanded, “Leave whatever you are doing and get yourself here straightaway.”

“Yes, Dr Braver,” I replied, my heart now out of my body.

“This sounds serious,” I said to myself. But then, he always sounded serious whenever he called. Did he really believe that I was party to the gossips about the incident in the theatre today? Has he found out that I am dating his secretary or his wife fancies me? I battled with these thoughts as I raced to his office.

“Yes, Dr Braver?” I said, my armpit dripping with sweat.

“Tell me. Who told that idiot that I snipped the tip of her son’s willy when did his circumcision?”

“The idiot?” I asked, pretending not to know that he was referring to the boy’s mother.

“Yes, the boy’s mother,” he said, his voice stronger.

“I did not discuss with anyone. Besides, I don’t believe in discussing things that go on in the theatre. That is not my problem.”

“Alright then,” he said, as he pulled out a document, an A4 paper, from the printer, “Something for you to sign.”

“So, you want me to sign this paper?”
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“Exactly,” he said, smiling sarcastically.

“And if I don’t?”

“Your registration will cease.”

“So you want me to lie so you can recommend me to the GMC for continuation of my registration?”

“That’s the score, son,” he said, as he lit his pipe.

I felt like an elephant sat on my heart as I left Dr Braver’s office. I had had people say someone made them sign documents under duress. It happened daily in my country. Police would force people to sign fictitious document or to confess to what they did not do or face torture. Soldiers would force people to sign wrong documents at gunpoint. As for me, I had never experienced this. And I had always said that no one would make me sign any document that I didn’t want to sign. I often boasted to my friends whenever the issue came up, that I had the body of a heavy weight boxer and it would take several police officers to pin me down. They would have to shoot me before they would be able to compel me to do any wrong. But I guess, Dr Braver knew his career and credibility were on line. It would probably be less serious if he put the blame on his African registrar. But where would my own credibility lie in a world where nothing good seemed to come out of Africa? Whatever my belief, I thought, I was in a no win situation.

I needed to speak to someone. But whom would I trust? All of a sudden, I began to feel lonely. I wished I were back home. There, I would not run short of advisers, and good ones too. But here, I found it hard to trust any one. Still, I knew I had to talk to someone before my head exploded. The first person that came to my mind was Anna. I knew she was a straightforward person and she claimed to love me. But I felt guilty because despite all the fun I had with her, I still found it difficult to trust her. I wasn’t convinced that she did not have or had not had an affair with Dr Braver. May be I was being jealous, I wasn’t too sure.

I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my head as I walked back to my flat. Then I remembered my mother. When all else failed I could always count on her advice. An intelligent and forthright woman. I knew I could count on my mother’s advice. Probably the only one I could trust to give me an honest advice. My problem was, my mother was not medical. She would be unlikely to understand medical ethics and law. But one thing I knew was that she would not fault on common sense and would provide a balanced view.

Nevertheless, the thought of involving my mother frightened me. I did not want to cause panic at home. Since my father died I had become the provider for my mother and my siblings. If I told my mother that my boss had threatened to stop me from working if I didn’t sign the document, she would probably fly to the British High Commission to protest. But that was my mother. Even now in her eighties, she was a formidable woman. Tough and fearless. In the end, I decided to keep her out of the problem. I should be able to handle it myself as a matured man, I thought.

I had planned to go to the gymn after work. But I really no more felt like going out that evening. All I wanted was a large bowl of rice and peas and a can of lager. Whilst it was good to deal with a problem straightaway, there were times, I thought, when you would allow events to unravel naturally and every aspect of it would call for specific ways of resolving it. My conscience was clear. I had not done anything wrongly. And if Dr Braver decided to lay blames on me I would strongly defend myself.

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