Saturday, March 30, 2013

When Spouse Beaters lie to Doctors

In the course of a couple of weeks I have come across two cases of spouse beating; one not too severe, the other fatal. And no, I'm not talking about Oscar Pistorius, the olympic athlete.

The first case was a mild drama - A distraught man brought his wife in, saying she had slumped. He was obviously very shaken as he didn't have time to wear his shoes; he bounded up and down the hospital corridor in an anxious frenzy.

His story: she was feeding their kid and just slumped and became unconscious - just like that. No medical issues nothing.
I looked at her again, there was something wrong about the whole picture before me and something prompted me to ask whether they'd been having issues, he replied in the negative.

Like the... erm... *coughs*... wise doctor I am, I asked the husband to get some things for his wife.

After he left, I turned to the wife. It took a few moments before what I expected to happen happened. Even when it did, I felt a little chill but I kept my composure.

The "unconscious" wife opened her eyes and grinned.

I remained as cool as cucumber. Then she quickly told her story.

Her husband had hit her. It had never happened before and she didn't want it to happen again, and the only way she could think of stopping the beating was to "collapse". She wanted her husband to be remorseful and not beat her anymore, she begged me to use my... erm... *coughs*... wisdom to ensure this. Let me stop there.

I read about the second case in a popular online gossip magazine and I realised it was the same patient I had certified dead sometime back.
She was a beautiful girl in her twenties brought in by a police man, her boyfriend had reported that she slumped after complaining of abdominal pains. I saw her in the vehicle, she was already dead. Curious to note, there were bruises around her neck and face.

Heard the boyfriend was arrested. Draw your own conclusions.

Image courtesy

Friday, March 29, 2013


I call it the immortality complex.

That daring inside most of us in the face of common sense that says though it happens to others it can't happen to me.

Sometimes, it is not that we want to be daredevils, sometimes, it is just a feeling of helplessness or frustration that brings out that "immortality complex".

Examples include a diabetic with a very high blood sugar saying "I'm okay, I feel great, nothing can happen to me if I take this highly sugary drink" - then it happens.
Or a person with a very high blood pressure that refuses to take any drugs because he feels "just fine" - until it happens.

Or in this instance between Ronald and Stanley(not real names):

Ronald is a known asthmatic, he goes visiting Stanley and they share some alcohol together. But Ronald is not satisfied - he brings out his cigarette, " I have to take a puff" he says to Stanley.

Stanley pleads with Ronald not to smoke, at least they'd had some alcohol, that should be enough. Ronald doesn't heed Stanley's advice, he goes on to bring out his cigarette and lights it.
He only takes some drags.
Then it happened...

Ronald suddenly couldn't breathe.
He had developed a sudden asthmatic attack precipitated by the cigarette smoke - Ronald fumbled for his inhaler - there was no improvement.

Stanley frantically got his car and rushed Ronald to the hospital.
By this time, Ronald was already gasping.
In the confusion that ensued, Ronald hit his head and cut it while Stanley was struggling through traffic.
They eventually got to the hospital with Ronald gasping and covered in his own blood.

He died a few minutes later.

Stanley was now confronted with the unpleasant task of calling Ronald's relatives and finding a way to inform them that Ronald who came to visit him would never be returning home.

Monday, March 18, 2013


What better way to come back from a long writing hiatus than with a controversial post. I have a little story.

Once upon a time:

A female doctor would walk into the hospital looking all fresh, a faint waft of her perfume filling the hospital corridor with a heavenly fragrance. Her make up, classy but not flamboyant. Her hair neatly packed in place, not a strand astray. Her white coat flawless and glimmering like it was washed in Cinderella world; her shoes going "koi koi" as she walked along the hospital corridor with every one gazing at her in admiration - she had a smile for them too - that was then.

The picture I see now:
A harried mother of two rushes into the hospital, her shopping bag in one hand, her stethoscope in another; her hair - flying in all directions of the compass, her white coat - Did I say white? No, I meant her cream coat, hanging loosely on her body. Don't bother to look at her shoes because she just grabbed whatever was closest to her feet while rushing to work. She has no smile for you and doesn't really care if you admire her or not.

What happened?
Are they no longer fashion conscious?
Is medicine no longer exciting?
Are their responsibilities too much these days?
Are they no longer well paid?
Is there no more time?
Am I just being biased?

Finally, if you work in the health sector, has anybody walked up to you and said to you, " Hey, I admire that female doctor"?

While I hide under a bomb shelter, do you agree with me?

Image: Elite model

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