What is ‘shooting yourself in the foot‘? Is it the act of taking a gun, pointing it at your feet and shooting? Seeing as that act would be both dumb and incredibly stupid, you and I can both agree that that’s not the definition to the above phrase. Allow me to use my weekend to define the phrase: shooting yourself in the foot is being rude to the nurse who is taking care of your mum and is also on night duty. Why is this shooting yourself in the foot? Simple; she is a nurse who is a ‘professional’ and is treating your mum. You on the other hand, are just a non professional who knows zilch about treating your mum. Being rude to the professional isn’t a great idea no matter how lazy and loud mouthed she is. Remember, she is the nurse on duty taking care of your mum!
Fridays are the best days of my week……just because they are Fridays. I can sleep late the next day and not feel guilty about turning off my alarm. So on my way home, I begin to daydream about waking up late and movies that I’ll see on my lappy. Alas this was not to be. A case of tummy ache had me watching over my mum in the hospital. Despite the fact that my plans were interrupted, I decided to put everything away and be a wonderful daughter to my mum, (I know, I know. I’m good like that :p). Anyways, I had to sleep on this hard table and occasionally (about 7 times actually) wake up to check on my mum. Believe me, this wasn’t funny. By morning, I was having a hard time keeping my smile plastered on my face. I was hungry, hadn’t had enough sleep and frankly, I was so cranky, I coulda chewed the back off an alligator!!!
I went home to eat and change and rushed back to the hospital…(Yep, I still didn’t sleep) and behold there were new nurses on duty. Now, I’m going to try……as in really try to give you an unbiased tale of what these nurses did. Changing drip took about thirty minutes with Madam nurse 1 going
‘Oooooo, mistura kini drip yen da?’ Translated thus ‘ Oooooo, Mistura, where’s that drip thing I asked for?’
She shuffled back and forth till finally she fixes the drip. After the operation, I want to see my mum and she’s like,
‘Noooooo, you can’t enter dia o, you cannot enter the operating room’.
‘Huh?!’ I think to myself. I should point out at this point that I had been in that operating room before for my brother’s appendix. I chill outside while she and the other nurse sashay to the front desk and gist. Mama is still in the OR o! ‘She can’t be moved’ they say. ‘We’ll have to wait until she wakes’. Wait, I thought, ‘wait?!’ She is under anesthesia. Only heaven knows when she’s be awake. They shrug as if that’s the answer to my question. I decide to go home and bring a change of clothes and she runs after me and says
‘ you can’t leave her, someone has to stay with her‘.
By now, I’m pretty pissed but I’m doing an amazing job of keeping my temper in check.
‘Where’ I asked in my sweetest voice, ‘do you propose I stay?! Since I’m not allowed into the operating room with my mum’
She smiles and says ‘Oh its okay. You can stay in the operating room now’ and she walks away. I’m seething. I can’t scream, I’ll look incredibly silly. My dad had left so there was no one to run to (yes, I can be a daddy’s girl so what?! ). I sit with my mum in the theatre, rubbing her arm and mumbling sweet words to her. A much anticipated phone call ( :* :* :*, you know yourself, Your Royal Highness the Drama King) and that kinda cooled me down. Now, Nurse 1 who started all this wahala walks in on me talking on the phone. She isn’t in her scrubs any longer. She had changed to the ankara skirt and blouse she wore to the clinic initially. She shuffles about the Operating room and though I’m watching her, I act like I’m not interested in what she’s up to. I knew that this was part two of the taxing (part one was with my father) and I was determined not to give in. She came to the realization that the call was going to be a long one and she promptly left me. A hour or so later, she comes in and tells me we have to move my still sleeping mum to another room. I assume its the same room we occupied since friday night but they take us to a poorly lit, mosquito ridden room. By now, the soothing effects of the call had worn off and I was itching for a fight. I asked why she couldn’t be taken to her former room and I get mumbled replies. My mum is protesting about how she prefers her former room to this rathole that they were putting her in but they turned deaf ears. I almost cried. There was no way I could move her on my own. I settled in, hoping for some sort of intervention. I didn’t have to wait for long. My knight in shinny amour was none other than………guess?! My…… :p oya wait for it………..
It was my elder brother!!!!.
He came in and was thoroughly unimpressed by what he saw. He spoke to the nurses(who had tried to tax him too) and they gave him the same treatment that I was given. He ignored them, changed her room and practically got them on their toes. Antibiotic injections were administered and soon my mun was sleeping like a baby. It has been a long long day for me. I have to stay close to her lest some fishy activites try to go down. I’m under strict instructions to alert my hero of a brother if anything should happen. I’m sleepy but can’t sleep too much lest these nurses decide to ‘go funny‘ on me.
So I ask; what would you have done: lashed out like my brother/ shinny knight or just played calm and wait for an opportunity like me?
*hint hint – pick me, pick me :p