One Angry Gogo

Still working through my on-call weekend … it is now Sunday and I am very much looking forward to our first fillet steak that Henry is currently cooking me. I have just woken up from my nap and showered and awaiting my last night on-call.

Last night was busy. I worked from 20.30 until 04.00 flat out. There was a c-section at 02.30 am so I needed to wake up my colleague Holger to assist me. Well, I am not yet doing the c-sections by myself so in fact I work as the anaesthetist. This job includes giving the spinal, monitoring the vital signs, writing up the operation notes and drug chart – ladies here do not get any analgesia during labour – and my favourite aspect is listening to the wonderful singing from the pregnant woman and fellow theatre sisters – the harmonising is lovely. During the operation I received a phone call from OPD to say one patient has arrived at the department. So, after the c-section was complete (it went well), I wandered over back to OPD. I quite enjoy walking around the hospital at night as it is so peaceful. There are always one or two people out and about who welcome me with ‘Sawubona’. This makes me happy.

So, I arrive to OPD to find six young men (in their early twenties) drunk and giggly. These are the friends of my patient. The sister is unimpressed describing them as ‘stupid drunk boys’.

I find the patient waiting in the consultation room. He is smiling away with a small laceration to his left armpit. He has been hit several times on his head (alleged assault) by a frozen coca cola bottle. Working in A+E in the UK, you often find yourself in these consultations in the middle of the night. However, in contrast, this young man is very polite (as are his friends who were trying to help out by wearing latex gloves and applying pressure to his small laceration). They are giggly but in no way aggressive.

All is in control. Until… Enter the patient’s Gogo (grandmother). In typical Gogo Zulu fashion, she had a towel around her head and a great array of clothes on. She begins to wail to me about how her grandson is at college and she cannot believe he is drunk. Gogo is unimpressed by my attempts to reassure her about the behaviour of her grandson. She starts smacking him and telling him what an idiot he is. She looks up at me for reinforcement so I too start saying he is an idiot. At this point, the sister (who had said nothing) started screaming at him telling him he was an idiot. The sister and I were not smacking him – we left that up to the gogo. All this provides excellent entertainment for the patient’s friends who fall about laughing.

Eventually, after treating the patient, I lodged him to male ward. I left the hospital and walked home for some much needed rest with a smile on my face.