Diary Of a Human Nurse

I love my job. I hate my job. I am as normal as we come, and each day presents its own challenges, blessings, lessons, fate even. Some call me brave for stomaching the sight of blood and other grueling episodes. Some say I am tough because I have watched people breath their last, and held them in my arms, and not cried a tear. Some think I am all smiles and happiness because I deal with births and new innocent life. Well, all of them are right in their own measure. Let me share a little bit about myself.
I am a courageous and at the same time a coward. I struggle with my own insecurities, I struggle with Scientific realities. I love passionately and with even much more energy comes my hatred for situations, and perhaps beings. I am the best Nurse/Midwife I can be, working towards perfection. I may not be your best, but I am my own best. I am also a normal human as opposed to people's expectations of a nurse being an angel. I suffer with my clients, I laugh with my clients. I empathize with them, other time I sympathize.
If you meet me outside the hospital doors and shine your bright(or not so bright) smiles and I give you an unsure smile, I am not a snob. I simply cannot recall all people I have attended to. If I remember you, well and good. If I don't, do not take it personally. My memory is good, just not excellent.

I remember some years back, a patient the age of my father died in my arms. He was healthy one second, the next he was gone. Just like that. It was traumatizing. All I saw was my father lying there lifeless as resuscitation continued. I was a shell. I remember crying helplessly, I remember my seniors telling me to pull it together. Pull what together? All I wanted was my daddy back. I cried my eyes swollen shut. My colleagues had to do my work for me. It took me months to recover, something that has never happened to me. I even had counselling sessions in which I participated. Those who know me know that I barely talk about stressful issues, unless it is lightly with a touch of jokes. In high school, my mother once tried involving a counselor for some issues. It was a waste of time and money. I was simply mute. You see, the fact that I talk much leaves an impression that I'm an open book. Well, ask my family. I am indeed an introvert. So this man's death gnawed slowly at me. I blamed myself, yes I did. Almost every nurse, if not all, has blamed them-self for a death that wasn't their fault or doing. Your mind does that to you. Even if I did no harm, I did blame myself. I had let my father down. So I cried and had nightmares for days, until I came to terms with myself. I accepted I wasn't responsible, as in my brain finally comprehended that. Peace came again. I was no longer afraid of men dying in my arms.

In the Accident and Emergency department where I once worked, I had horrific experiences. Blood does not make me sick, neither does sputum, stool or other body fluids. I am hardcore like that :-D. But bring me a dismantled body and we got us a problem. One time the ER bell rang and as usual, with my tiny quick feet I followed my colleagues to the rescue. I was expecting a Cardiac Arrest or the likes. The paramedics were working on a guy, or what had been left of him. His head had been bashed in, oozing Cerebral Spinal Fluid.  A depressed skull fracture and the other part skull cut open exposing part of his brain. Eish, I froze. Gloves in hand, ready to work. I did do my part. I shuddered as I heard what thugs had done to him. He was practically halfway gone. Of course emergency things and stuff. For the first time in my Nursing life, I vomited. My stomach did flipflops, not the love ones. Any time I heard the ER door bell ring, I would just freeze. Thank God I was transferred. I was struggling to handle it. I do not understand how after a crash accident people take out their cell phones to record the poor fellas' brain, bone and skin. Eish, how hardcore can you get? I once looked out in an attempt to harden my spirit, I swear I did not eat for three days. I salute the A/E nurses.

Back to the ward, we once nursed a senior citizen for three good months. He drastically improved and then the eve of his discharge, he quietly went away. I was dismayed. All that work then this. I didn't cry though. I let him go. Another bed ridden senior citizen who barely spoke suddenly breaks into song and cheer in his room. On your way out of the room, he would give you the sweetest smile ever then continue clapping. I loved that old fella, he was amazing! He also went quietly, happily. These scenarios gave me a phobia of 'sudden recovery' of patients. I remembered watching Grey's Anatomy about 'Surge' (sp) where the character rose from his coma and was extremely cheerful and energetic in the unlikeliest of situations. He died later. So I really loved my very sick patients to recover, but I was afraid they were on their way elsewhere.

You see, I am a mixture of experiences. Some I would not want to re-experience, others I would love to. I am an introvert who talks too much but barely scratches a surface of her feelings. So the next time you're tempted to do unruly stuff or say piercing things, remember I was human before I became a nurse. And if you think nurses are some 'things' that should be disrespected simply because we empty your bed pan, well think again. Yes, I am a nurse. I deserve respect, just like any other human being.
Now where is that needle....

The Guide To A Safe Stay In Nairobi

Merry Christmas to all my fans! May the joy of the Lord be with you all and your loved ones. Be safe and remember it is Jesus' birthday, not yours. Take a chill pill and let 2016 meet the sane part of you. As many of you may know, Nairobi will still have the likes of us around to congest it. Those who can barely differentiate between holidays because it's all work and more work. Those whose pockets are dry hence cannot afford to travel(may God remember them). Those whose idea of Christmas is praying and preying on the fellow humans(God is seeing you).

Welcome to the city of Nairobi. It is both beautiful and ugly depending on which side you're looking from. It is both safe and unsafe, can give you a sense of belonging or bad memories. I would like to share about the con artists of this beautiful city(I am in the good part). Walking around this city, you need to be alert. Engage all your senses including the 6th one we all tend to ignore sometimes. Let paranoia be your perfume/cologne. Like a skunk gives off the nasty smell, give off that nasty look. Let your smile rest. Let your neighbor know that your mama on the other end of your phone is an omnipresent CID.
We have all heard of stories about how some person was conned , it probably has happened to some of you.

Meet that old woman almost your grandma's age whose back is so bent you feel sorry for her. She comes closer to you and picks a conversation. "Habari yako mtoto yangu" You can barely hear her. You are concerned. She asks for directions to a blue building(which according to her was destroyed years ago and cannot recall it's replacement). You recall your Bible teachings, respect for the elders. In the midst of trying to help her, your bag or whatever valuables you might be possessing vanish. The grandma's back is suddenly straightened by some magic, she runs faster than your grandmother. You got no clue what just went down. Your senses are somewhat asleep. By the time you come to, there is no one in sight.

There are those thugs that work with pure adrenaline. The fight/flight mode. These I find desperate and dangerous. They will grab your bag, or even calmly ask you to hand it over at gun/knife point. Never argue with such. Give them what they want and avoid eye contact.
You are in a mobile vehicle near a window and you're busy reading my blog. I don't blame you, it's engaging. Or you're buried in Facebook posting how ugly your neighbor looks. In a nick's time, your phone is missing. The shock on your face will amuse the conductor who will mutter some rude obscenity at your 'lack of brains'. Forgive him, he is tired of such scenes and does not understand how we humans 'never learn'.

Meet that young lady talking on the phone about innocent issues. As she massages her breasts to indicate she is a breastfeeding mum, she says,"mama mwambie aache kulia nakuja sasa hivi." and so on. You're so engrossed in her story, that eavesdropping mode we switch to might be the end of us. You don't realise she's edging closer to you. The next thing you are in an unfamiliar territory, with nothing on you. You're covered in dust and don't remember how you got there. To say the least, you look like a drunkard. My friend, you have been drugged. Welcome to Nairobi mbaya.

There are so many ways these cons have invented to get their daily bread. They are always one step ahead of us. The best you can do is pray for your safety, walk like you got a purpose, avoid the notoriously dangerous parts of Nairobi. If someone needs directions, stay as far as possible and point them towards the nearest security personnel. If someone abruptly asks to shake your hand, run like never before. Call me mad but if I do not know you, please don't come too close. It's not you it's the Nairobi fever.

Merry Chistmas!

Ladies, Let Him Truly Love You!

Love is patient,love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres (1st Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV).

I know most of you ladies have a man in your life. It could be a father, a brother, a male relative or that friend neatly tacked away in the friend zone corner. Most likely, they love you, they are your blood and true friend. Then comes the other man. That man that is not your blood yet your blood runs at his sight. That magnificent adrenaline that makes you have butterflies upon thinking of him. He brings out that silly streak we all manage to tack away in the name of maturity. He makes you laugh, he makes you cry because of silly things. Such is love. Such is a man we ladies, crave for. But have you ever sat and thought if he is the one for you?

Now, we all love to call each other the sweet little names that make us grin like fools. "Hello love!" Such are our conversations from time to time. Now replace the word love in the first paragraph with his name; e.g "Luca is patient.....Luca always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." Well, dear ladies, is Luca all that? No is perfect, but is your Luca what he says he is? Does your Luca treat you with the patience only acquired of God? Does your Luca encourage you to be truthful?

If I may, I would like to express my love and admiration for this particular man who set such a high standard on love for men to emulate. His love for me proved unmatched, unbeaten, trustworthy and perfect.
Any woman wants a man who proclaims his love for them, to fight to earn it. I mean fight to the last ounce of strength for you. You do not wake up one day and get a good job, you must have worked for it, sweat for it and earned it. The end result is sweet, you are careful not to loose your hard earned results, you behave. Jesus fought for you to death. So ladies, is Luca behaving as though you are priceless? Did he work to get you, or did you hand him you on a pretty ribboned silver platter? Is Luca making you feel special?

A man, in the Biblical and traditional aspect should be a leader. Great leadership skills are not easy to acquire. Such come with wisdom, a lot of learning and support from significant parties. Lady, is Luca leading you down the drain of destructive measures? Are your biceps cramping from supporting the wrong leadership afraid of loosing him? Are you sweating to stay in the relationship? If  you loose him, your muscles will get a break. Your body will thank you. Let go of something that does not sit well with you, it is physically and emotionally draining. Unfortunately, if you as a lady have no sense of what is right, you will be led darling, oh you will be led to that slaughterhouse. See, you did not even realize you are in a sheepskin.

Is he demeaning your worth to 'raise' his? Is he physically, emotionally and verbally demeaning you? Remember Jesus defending the woman who was to be stoned because of infidelity? Even at her worst in the human eye, He defended her. Don't cheat on him though, haha. Is your man protecting/ defending you? Is Luca the onion you never thought you'd meet? Is he your wardrobe manager now that you're wearing humongous glasses to cover your teary bruised face? You cannot expose your arms because of the bruises. Years of tears will dehydrate you, toxins will pile up, dehydration is an actual cause of acute kidney failure. Honey, take care of your make up, immune system, your kidneys and you mental health too. You need them to survive, literally. You can survive though without a bad Luca.

Strive to know your man's people. Know his friends, study them, interact with them. Do not be misled: Bad company corrupts good character (1st Corinthians 15:33-NIV). There's is a 99% chance that they are his mirror.
Know his background. His upbringing plays a role too. If he is not comfortable with you meeting his family, he could be hiding you from the world or his family from you.You my friend are his dirty little secret. Forget the hope of ever settling with such unless you will be the vicar in your own very private wedding.

Let a man know your worth, you are a jewel. Stop settling for less than you deserve. If he cannot respect you enough to realize this, please move on. If he is not after God's heart like David of the Bible, the today's 'philistines' will devour you. Practice patience. Let God bring the one to you. Above all, be a lady worth a good God-given man.

THE ILLUSION, MY NIGHTMARE

He said he loved me, he told me so
I guess he forgot to show me how much
He said he wanted a future with me, he told me so
I guess he forgot to get me a ring

He said he wanted to feel my heartbeat, he told me so
I guess he forgot bleeding hearts fail
My heart is in your hands, he told me so
I guess he forgot bruised hands hurt

He said he wanted my soul, he told me so
I promised to not sell my soul to the devil
I guess he was not the devil
I guess he was just him

He promised me till death does us part, he told me so
I guess he forgot my grave is not dug
Through thick and thin,he told me so
I guess he was looking for a medium me

He said he was sorry, he told me so
I guess dreams are meant to be just that
I woke up and realized that was a wishful dream
Then reality hit me, he was my nightmare
I guess he forgot to tell me so 

DEATH

I simply address you that way because you don't trigger any dearness in my mind. That is just what you are, death. I can only imagine what is going on in your mind, if you have any, which I doubt you do anyway. I can almost see you hiding somewhere, in a closet maybe, trying not to burst into laughter. I can see you do your premature victory dance all over the place. You think you have won, you think you have won. You almost fool everyone.

You see, you dressed down as a human. A male being to be specific. You subdivided your sorry self into three men, and had them do your dirty deed. Yes you enjoyed taking a life. Yes, you enjoyed pulling the trigger and watching his life fade out of him. I am sure you were thrilled with yourself. I am sure you almost wet your pants out of laughing yourself stupid. I am sure you are still savoring your victory.

You see, I look at the many hearts that have bled because of your name. The hearts that are still bleeding, mine included. Yes, that woman who still loves him even though gone. That woman who had to witness the whole incident. That child who does not understand why daddy is no longer calling to talk to him on the phone. Why daddy has not come home for two days in a row. That mother wondering why you had to visit her son in a manner so cruel. That sister, those nephews, those cousins, those aunties, those friends, those relatives.....and that granny who loved him with her life. The list of those hurting is endless. I personally do not know if I will heal, and if I do, that scar is already too deep.

If I were of this world, I would wish the worst over their lives. I will not however. I will pray for peace, I will pray for wisdom, I will pray that God comes down and comfort us all. I will pray that his lovely wife will find comfort in God, family and friends. I will pray his son will never lack joy and love and when he finally understands that daddy is in heaven, he will smile and know the angels are with him. I will pray that those you used to take a life so precious will know no peace until they confess. Yes, may they itch as though they have a skin condition, may their ice-cold hearts melt under the wrath of God. If you, death, think you have won, I bear news for you, you were defeated centuries ago. Your time is almost up. Vengeance is never ours, it's the Lord's. That is what the Bible teaches me.

I am still shocked and in denial. I am sailing in the same boat as my family and friends. One minute am happy and forgetful, the next am nostalgic and tearful. I am confused and sane at the same time.
We have lost a great son, a loving husband, a wonderful father, an awesome brother and cousin, an honorable nephew, a wise grandson and a great citizen. He never passed any opportunity to help anyone in need. He was a truly wonderful human being. Chelsea has lost a great fan. Roy Kenneth Muigai, you will forever remain in our hearts and minds. Till we meet again, rest in peace. Rest in peace dearest cousin.

FOR THE LOVE OF CHELSEA

You've probably heard me talk about them on social media. you've probably felt like blocking me from your friends list. Hell, you've probably felt I fancied them too much in a not so nice way. Well,congratulations! You're probably right. No, you're right, actually. 

My name is Margaret Wambui Kamau. I am a self proclaimed Chelsea fan. None of those fancy blue boys know my name, but hell! I know them all, or so I think. I have been a Chelsea fanatic since I can remember, I have shared in their pains, their joys and attended their pity parties. I have practically shed my tears, yes those ever flowing tears, on their account. I love the team, its arrogant coach and those behind the scenes to make the team what it is. If it were possible, I would marry Chelsea. If Chelsea was a man, I would want him in my life. He would be worth the pain. He's proven that already. 

I am not here to prove how much I know about them, I am here to proclaim my undying love for this lovely team. From our goalkeeper to our defenders. You've probably heard me blow the whole football concept out of proportion when I let my feminine side work on the pitch. I know Eden Hazard has lips that are outrageously good for a man, a body that is yummy and that look he gives an opponent who has fouled him!! I loove that look. And the way he handles the ball! I call him Eden sweet lips Hazard. 

Petr Cech, the first goalkeeper I ever knew. He has always been my favorite because he is quite a great keeper. I also love Oscar because he has a baby face, he's cute and at 23 he is married! He has skills on that pitch that are exciting and awing. I love him, the agape kind of love. :-) Don't ask about the Belgian player, my love for him is different.

Didier Drogba. My old time favorite. He is a legend this guy; his goal in the 2011-2012 UEFA finals against  Bayern Munich was an important come back for Chelsea who proceeded for the penalty shootout with the opposing team. I will always remember that one as Chelsea clinched the cup, it was one of the sweetest moment for me and them am sure. Didier is built and manages to keep opponents at bay. You can say that with him, Chelsea will always be his home. He has even gone to the Chinese, but he came back home. Welcome back Drogba, I did say it last year, but it does no harm to repeat.

Our golden goose is Diego da silva Costa. He is a goal scoring machine this one. He is worth those 32 million euros this guy. He is also my age mate... LOL. I see him, with all his millions. Enyewe tulianza pamoja lakini sielewi niliachwa wapi... He earns 150000 euros a week! Ala. It does break my heart that am nowhere near that figure, but am happy for him. Swallowing hard. Go Costa! I hope you do not leave Chelsea ever/ any time soon.

Zouma and Cuardrado, the new kids on the block. What a job they are doing these boys. Keep up. As for the rest akina John Terry, Ivanovic, Azpilicueta, Cesc Fabregas, Filipe Luis, Ramires, Courtois, Remy, Matic, Willian, Garry Cahill and the others I do not know yet, I love you all. I also miss the ex Chelsea players especially Frank Lampard, David Luiz, Demba Ba, Daniel Sturridge and others. I still remember the good old days when you still wore the Chelsea jerseys. Sigh, the good ones leaving is something I never understand. But that's okay, I am no Mourihno/Abramovich. I am Margaret Wambui Kamau, just another Chelsea fan. These boys drive me nuts, bonkers and bananas. But it is their skills that top it up. I love Chelsea, I hope they win the EPL cup just as they won the Capital One cup. I believe they will, I believe we will. GO CHELSEA!!!!

LOVE, DEAR BITTERSWEET FRIEND

I have participated in this game of love many times in my young life. I have lived to tell my friends about it, laughed about it and thought about its unending joys. Oh! Love is the sweetest thing one can experience. It can also be the most bitter pill anyone can take. You see, it starts well with the usual smiling phase. You think and think of that new person in your life, you smile and smile at the thought of that person. You swear to the world that s/he is the one. No one can stop you. Your heart does beautiful beats to the tune of love, your tummy suddenly harbors butterflies at the site of the source. It is a beautiful beginning. Its the first taste of Baileys....sweet and subtle. You are yet to swallow.

 Like most people, I have won in that game. It may be a short term celebration but a win nonetheless. If you have never felt what it feels like to be loved back, you should pray you experience it before you expire. It sends you to the mountain top and back, takes you to the ocean and gives you a smooth sail back to shore, all these things happen at once. You are unstoppable, people have to give way lest you flatten them with your cart overfilled with love. You want to give your all, you actually give your all. Even your body glows with this emotion. This feeling, is one of the best in the world. It even makes one do crazy things, it is so bright a light that it renders you blind, even if for a short while. Once love comes your way, most things might fade away.

On the other hand, I have often terribly failed in that game. The face down crowd thirsting after your blood kind of loss. I have had thorns left in places of roses, I have had to swallow my Baileys faster than ever imagined. The aftertaste kills my tongue. Many at times it's nature taking course, other times my very own doing or the aspect of being broken by the one you loved, literally. You almost feel your left atrium separating from your right atrium....you surely feel the bleeding into your chest cavity and you literally cannot breathe. You are suffocating in pain, and you just want it to end. I think how someone survives such damage is still questionable but thank God its proven not to kill, at least not directly.

Then comes this phase called moving on. It is the longest phase on earth. You are stuck between anger and sadness. A simple thing as watching a couple hold hands will send you into tears or rage. You are often told, ''the only way to get over someone is get under someone''.....Well I don't know whether that literally works but my version of it is spending time in company of other cheerful people. You will need friends like never before and a break from those places familiar to your memories.You may come out fine on the other end, the thorns will still be insitu, but the scars will eventually heal and thus have no 'feeling' power. Thorns will prick as you walk, talk or slip into memories session, but it will not hurt, not like before anyway.

If you are not lucky, you might walk around with a broken heart, never completely healed. You, my dear friend, need God to intervene. You need to decide if you are moving on completely, going to join a support group or relapse and start all over again. My bet is if you actually work on it, you can eventually look at nature differently and start the whole love thing again. No matter how many times I have hurt over love, I will not love with fear. I will love foolishly, with all my heart and strength. I just don't know if this time it will be the real one,but I will keep trying with my all. Well, I hope I don't drop of exhaustion one day.

SO HELP ME GOD

I am a weak person, even in my strength, I still am weak.
Even in my thoughts, when I think I have it all figured out, I still am weak.

In my acts, for or against a trigger, I am weak. Weak to the decisions that run my mind, weak to the vengeance that threatens to destroy me.
Weak towards things I have given strength over my decisions.
Weak towards factors that encourage me to look down on my beliefs... ooh! It's just hard to stay on the right track, when my legs are too weak to follow.

I am weak to the core, I am weak to believe I am strong, for in over-confidence lies a trap. A trap many a times I have walked into, with eyes wide open, ears attentive and brain well oxygenated.

I am weak for confiding in this world, I am weak for trusting in the many comforts it has to offer.
I am weak for thinking it will last forever. Surprise! surprise! Weakness mocks me.

I am weak, indeed I am weak. Towards the people that should not matter, towards those out to make sure my weakness surpasses my strength; those who rejoice in my weakness. I am weak in failing to see the obvious, those that love me with all my weaknesses. Those that really matter the most. My family, blood or not.

I have just but one prayer, to God. To help me turn my weaknesses back to strengths once again. Like Samson in the Bible, to have what was once mine. So help me God.

HUMAN, TESTED AND PROVEN

For the first time in ages, my guard fell. I did not let down my guard, it just fell, just like that. It fell off at the wrong time and that left me vulnerable. I was not amused because I had to start all over again by picking sharp piercing minute pieces of myself. Up to now, I have not managed to piece me back together. I am broken as can be, I am sure a piece is missing somewhere along the corridors of the hospital, another is with my patient. I will simply have to work hard to grow another piece.

Let me tell you about my day, it started out well. Normal as can be, with this and that to do. Today I had the honor of taking care of a patient with metastasized Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, don't worry about its origin. Honor because I re-learnt things I always assumed I knew. He is a young man with a young family. Young as in below 60 years of age, above 50 years. That is extremely young if you ask me. I saw him for the first time today morning as I received my report. The first picture that was painted is still imprinted in my memory corner. Weak, in pain despite analgesics, holding on to a thread and yet grateful for little things like me putting up fluids.

Nursed propped up, he has a hard time being comfortable despite attempting many positions. His abdomen is swollen, pressing upwards to his diaphragm, making his breathing not so nice and hiccuping every second he spares to breath out. His prognosis is not good, but he was not displacing( he damn well has a right to) His wife, was a mess. Her eyes red as evidence of crying, their daughter lost on who to comfort, relatives in defeated silence. All eyes on any doctor/nurse who makes their way there, as though they carry with them a miracle/a sign that all will be well.

Any who, I looked at his suffering, his gentle nature and I did not know it till I touched my face. It was wet. I quickly brushed the tear aside lest the relatives, especially the wife, see the hopelessness written in my eyes and on my face. I pretended to adjust the rate of TPNs, to check if this or that was okay. Finally, I took a walk. I do not know what it was with this particular patient, I have seen enough suffering to last a lifetime but always managed to stay away from the sympathy shoe. Empathy is what they advise if not teach, because you have to protect yourself. Each time a patient dies and you let it get to you, you loose a piece of you. Eventually, you get to give away pieces of you that eventually you might be an empty shell.

Bottom line is, I felt such pain for this man, helpless, his family watching him waste away. His wife, trying to be strong but failing miserably, his family scared to death. That deathly silence they had around him was heartbreaking. It was as though they were afraid of talking. Up to now, I cannot tell why or what triggered my emotions, all I know is that I was caught off guard and stripped off my protective armor. I know for sure that a piece of me has gone away, it is gone with my patient. My heart is broken, my spirit defeated and I have questioned the Almighty. "If there was ever a miracle, God now is the time." In my mind, I did say a prayer. Hope, faith and miracles were on my mind too.


The purpose for our life is clear, the reason for our living manifested each day with our achievements and good deeds. This man re-taught me to take not take my health for granted, to appreciate family and to always be grateful to God no matter what the circumstances. I had already 'forgotten' these things. And the price someone else is paying for people like me to remember....Oh how sad.

CALL ME LAZY, BUT I LOVE MY SLEEP

I am wide awake early in the morning on my day off. My sleep pattern has greatly improved, I can now sleep through noise and all. I am awake this early because my system ran out of sleep. I have not overslept, no, in fact I have barely had 6hours of sleep. I am as fresh as can be. My afternoon is yet to prove me wrong.
I have a friend who sleeps for 4 hours (he proudly tells me that) out of a 24hour cycle. 20hours are reserved for work, and work does he. And he has achieved almost all he may want. "You might break down one day" I often tell him. "Nah, your body get used to it" I believe him, but I also believe he will break down one day. He is as healthy as can appear, but looks are deceiving. He reminds me of a young man I had the pleasure of meeting.

Young at 42years, he works like a donkey. Only that it is not forced labor, he is a willing laborer. He goes to bed at 12midnight, out of the house by 4am. "When do you see your kids?" I once asked him.
"On Sundays" He comfortably told me.

"Wow, your job must be important."

He smiles at me, its a top secret government job. I understand, and move away from the subject.

His blood pressure, lets just say the last time it was checked was rocket high. I wouldn't be surprised if he collapsed from a 'heart attack' or if he had an 'Aneurysm burst' somewhere in his blood vessels. I ask him what he does on Sundays.

"Church for the better of my day, then out with my family"

"What time do you go to bed?"

"9pm the earliest"

He can tell I am surprised by the look on my face. I am surprised, I mean, 9pm  the earliest? On his only sane day? Okay.

"So what did the doctor say?" I asked curiosity getting the better of me.

"I needed to be admitted because my BPs are uncontrollable. Told him I can't afford to take a break at this moment, later perhaps."
 I smile, I'm amused not because its funny.
" Do you go on leave?" Of course he does.

"Who takes your place when you're gone?"

"My boss"

"So can't he do that for a few days or weeks?"

"No." As simple as no. Ha!

"So what happens when you're away and your boss needs to leave the office?"

"I am recalled to work"

"How are you compensated?"

"Money comes in if I come in during my leave."
I hoped he was serious because I had a hard time believing a word he said. It sounded far fetched, I was tempted to snort.

Both parties are extremely well to do. They have this lifestyle only few can afford,and I mean FEW. I like their determination, I like their beliefs.
It got me thinking, I value my life, I value my health even though only my maker can guarantee I got good health. I even value the quality of my sleep!
Perhaps I should look more into less sleep and obsess about work,  But hey! while at it, I might take time to draft a will because like a walking fuse,I might blow out. Its your life, live it as you please. Just be wise about it, and certainly consider your loved ones while at it....Call me lazy but I love my sleep.

THE LION, THE CHEETAH AND THE HYENA.

The Lion
 The second largest living cat after the tiger. A walk in the jungle, no fear no hurry. It does own the kingdom. It roars at will, scaring the faint hearted, having them look for hiding spots. It is courageous, it is brave. In a way, it is proud, arrogant even. It does not eat leftovers, it gets the fresh kills. It does not settle for less, even when there is drought, it will not settle for grass. It will get that fresh kill, even if it uses its last ounce of strength.It is very fast, but not the fastest though.It will rarely share its catch wit others, unless they are a significant group.

The Cheetah
It is a beautiful big cat. Do not let it fool you though, it is a killer. It is very swift, can outrun most of its prey. As swift as it is in chasing, it equally is swift at giving up. It may be courageous but is easily discouraged when its prey seems to outrun it. It does need a surge of energy to support its animal record speed.

The Hyena
 An animal that is not attractive, very lazy, cowardly and loves left overs. It will have whatever the lion and cheaters did not want/ finish. It is at times follows the big cats for long distances to have a meal. It does have that laugh and it is cunning at times.

In life, we have at some point been either of the three animals. We have characteristics almost similar to the animals stated. When we walk around fearing no evil, believing in ourselves and not settling for less than we deserve, we walk with purpose. When we carry ourselves otherwise, we will feed on 'dead' things life as to offer.

We should be quick to grasp an opportunity that might not come our way again, we should never give up without one huge of a fight, and we definitely should never wait to have leftovers. Go out there for your kill, it is possible. No one likes the Hyena anyway, don't be one.

THAT ILLUSION

You always smile at the thought of someone thinking about you, someone admitting to missing you, someone taking you to nice little dates.Love is perfect, at first mostly. You have that new energy, you have those sparks that can start a fire in a closed room. You get lost in each others eyes, your tummy has butterflies every time he smiles at you. You feel alive, you feel glorious, awesome does not even begin to explain it. Even the frowning faces have a smile, you can tell they are different-good different.

Those little things he does for you, the texts, the flowers, the chocolates, making dinner once in while. They make a foundation for your love even stronger, they make you believe every thing they say concerning you.You are blessed, never been happier, never felt more thankful for your prince. You are convinced yours will last  lifetime. You do not get why Sarah and Jake never made it! Love is a great feeling, who would give up such!

You are into the second year of commitment, still feels as though it were yesterday. The great feeling is still much alive. There is just a slight difference, the little acts have reduced. It is the work, it is weighing down on him. He has such much stuff to attend to you feel sorry for him. You do not want to add to his stress, you make sure the dinner is ready, the house is neat, you are just perfect and ready for him. You start to put his needs ahead of yours, isn't that what love is all about? He promises he will be back to normal, as soon as he finishes his urgent office stuff.

By the third year, office work is still piling in. The only thing left in your fantasy world are the memories. Occasionally, out of guilt, he brings home flowers at 9pm, two hours late for dinner. You are watching news or a documentary, cold food on the stove. He comes in, has a guilty face, apologizes profusely and put his hands in his face. 'Oh what will I do? I should quit this job, I feel bad we don't spend more time together.' He is one step away from getting that promotion, you are a step away if not already playing second wife after work. Yeah, he put a ring on his work too. That guilty statement melts away your concerns, you want what is best for him.

By the time you open your eyes, the gap between you and him is so wide you actually feel as though you're living with a stranger. If he has no time for you, he simply is not that interested. He is taking you for granted. He is cheating on you with someone/something else. When you were courting, he could move mountains for you, his schedule was manageable, seeing your face at the end of the day was a strong motivating factor. He never forgot the flowers, or the chocolate. 

You look at the mirror, has your face changed? No. Has your skin fallen off? No. Have you grown fat? No. Are you pregnant? You don't think so.

You remember Sarah and Jake, you remember them so well. You vow you will not end up as they did. You will work for your vows. You kill yourself doing little nice things for him. You ensure breakfast is ready at 5am, even though you are totally wiped. You do this and that as advised by your girlfriends and those magazines. You go out of your way, but results are slow. Promises are still broken, 'apologies' keep streaming in.

Finally, you feel as though you're throwing yourself on the horse's path, to get trotted upon. You are exhausted, you are worn out. You need a new hobby, you get a job. You stop waiting up, you do not bother with the breakfast. By the time you have time for yourself, you are angry. Angry at yourself for allowing you to be walked upon. Angry at him for changing.

But you both changed, you stopped expecting happiness, you stopped demanding for your needs, you put your happiness aside, for a man.How sad....

A DAUGHTER, THAT BEAUTIFUL PEARL

She comes into this world fighting, it is always in the female species to fight; for survival. She brings with her a mixture of emotions, especially the urge to protect. When the parents hold her, it is evident she is loved, she makes your heart melt. With her first cry, her first laughter, her first silent facial emotion, you want in on her thoughts and feelings. You want to hold her so close and kiss her pretty little innocent face over and over. She is just perfect, a little of her mother, a little of her father. 

She grows into a curious little thing, over here, over there. Like a normal baby, she wants to experience life at once, patience is not on her to do list. She puts anything she can in her mouth, nose and even ears. She will squeal when at the doctor's cubicle as the bead is removed from her ear. As a parent, you will feel for her, want to take her place, but you can't. You have to watch her suffer, as you blame yourself for being a 'bad parent' for not paying close attention. Sometime she will choke on a coin, or something she picked, yet you cannot remember how she got to it. You will cry as you hold her after that scary episode. You think you are wiped out.

She grows into a beautiful thing, always curious about the world. 'Mommy, why do you do this and that?' 'Daddy, where were you? Did you see this and that?' She will exhaust you with questions that at times you have no real answers to. She will make you think and think of the 'right' answer. If you lie, she will catch the truth, eventually. 'But I thought you said....' Their memories are weirdly accurate, because they believe every little thing you tell them, at least at their current age. They will not hide emotions from you, they will not pretend. Every day you see a little of you in them. Other days, you see all of yourself in them! Such a beautiful mirror. 

She gets to that age where she puts on her mother's make up and play dress up with her besties, the dolls. She nurtures them exactly how she is being nurtured. She is a little lady in her little dress. She might opt to be a tom boy, playing with the neighborhood boys over girls, following her dad to his workshop and 'helping' him around. She is a girl beneath those overalls, those dungarees. She is a girl alright, despite her coming home covered in mud, happy to have 'helped' the boys repair a broken bicycle. She surprises you by asking for a bike, and she does not even need lessons on how to ride it. Thomas, your neighbor's son already taught her. She rides it to school, with the boys.

She is suddenly shy, suddenly as in you think it happened overnight. But you missed the first episode of her shyness. You cannot remember how it begun, how it happened. You are loosing the little angel. She is gaining the worldly wisdom, and she is no longer naive. You do not want to let go, you cannot let go. You have not had enough time with her! Only yesterday she ran to you with all the details of her life. Now you have to really pray she tells you a quarter of her life stories. You try to create an environment of trust,not that it was broken, but it is not you. She needs to figure herself out, she needs to get through by herself. You have to let go, keep your 'distance'. She will come around.

She will push your 'over-protectiveness' button to a new height. The boys know she is a gem, and boys are just boys. As a father, you remember when you were her age, when you went after girls for fun or 'love'. You get that chill down your spine, that is your own flesh and blood. Woe unto the boy who touches or hurts her. As a mother, you remember your teen life, how you got your heart severely wounded, how boys feigned love, how your mother warned you about this or that boy. Your heart aches at the thought of your little girl getting wounded, you are a bear. No one touches their cub, unless they got a death wish. She is still your little girl, no matter how old she gets.

She will get hurt, she will get bruised, she will make poor judgement calls, she will deviate from the good teachings and she might break your heart. But you will still love, protect and comfort her. You will always be her shoulder to cry on, despite the urge to utter 'I told you so'. You will threaten to beat up the boy who broke her heart, you will will stop her from seeing an unsuitable boy. She might hate you, oh she will definitely hate you. But you are her parents. She will keep learning, everyday, about life. She will only get to understand you as a parent when she gets her own family.

She is walking down the aisle, dressed in white like a princess. It is her wedding day,she is now a big girl, she has grown so fast. She hold your hands tight as though afraid to let go. She is finally leaving the nest, she will no longer have her parents everyday to herself. She has to let go, you have taught her well, she is ready. She is crying, as parents you smile reassuringly. As you hand her over to your son in law, you warn him not to hurt her or else....then you smile and in a friendly tone say 'Take care of our precious jewel'. He understands you completely. She finally lets go, hugs you and turns her back on you. She is gone, your beautiful pearl is gone.

DIARY OF A GRATEFUL CAT

Have you ever seen a naked starving cat? Have you ever been mistaken for something or someone else? Have you ever been on death row? Well I have been through all these things but came out stronger than ever, alive, not a ghost version of what I could have been.

Call me cat, I do not have a name yet, my owners are too busy with other domestic animals to give me a name. I wish to be called 'Survivor', because that is what I am.
I was found near dead by my current owner whom I will not mention because I don't want other species reading this to get the address, we are saturated at the compound as it is. Don't get me wrong, I would love to have others like me rescued but the survival rate, well lets just say, it will go down.
So, back to being found near dead. I looked like a rat, at least that's what one of my current owner said. I was astonished, 'ME! A RAT?' But I was dying, and details leading to my current state were vague. I was starving, my fur had fallen off and the cold, heat and fleas were having their moment. I know humans hate rats, but I was still shocked to know what they planned to do with me, kill me. Poor dirty starving me.What a way to go to the afterlife, naked, dirty and starving. Oh, and the look on the humans' faces, pure disgust at my sight.

I do not know what changed their minds, but I was alive two days later, at their homestead. I think they figured out I was not a rat. Anyways, I slowly made progress with my health. My fur started to grow back, my bony structure gained some body and muscles, my legs felt stronger. I knew recovery was a long way, but at least I was en route. I fed better than I had before, my amnesia started clearing(I hoped it wouldn't-just too painful).
I remembered my former home, my owner was cruel and abusive. Kicks in the back were not uncommon, no food for me, if I got lucky I would get some ugali. Yes, me a carnivore feeding on ground maize stirred in hot water. Rats were hard to come by, even they were fed up with the owner's mean spirit. No food scrapes lying anywhere, no access to the main house, or the food store. They packed and left. I had no one to play hide and seek with, neither did I have any meals, even the rats themselves.

The last blow came when I made a discovery at my mean owner's house. I smelt the aroma miles away, sneaked into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of meat lying on the table. I should have ran off, gotten a quiet private place and munched to my fill. I guess I was too hungry, I sat there and started feasting. It was so delicious that I forgot it was totally illegal. I did not see the blow coming, followed by a scream from my owner's wife. Daang! She kicked worse than her husband. I wanted to stay and fight but I was so afraid. I attempted to ran through the kitchen window but something was wrong with my hind legs. I think she broke them. I crawled with so much pain a midst more blows raining all over me. I was severely wounded and hurt. That woman would have killed me if I had stayed longer.

Off I crawled, painfully, hungry and angry. Rats lived better than me. I traveled for days until I lost consciousness at my current owner's farm. I must have stayed there for some time before they found me because my limbs were less painful.

Long story short, I survived this whole ordeal and now live happily with my new owners. See this little girl here? Well that's me, after my survival thing. I look happy and healthy right? I am. I have friends around here, some friendly others weird, but still friends. I would never want to go back to my former owner ever!!  And NO! you do not want to see what I looked like before this, it scares me, it would kill you. Thank you owner for rescuing me.

Me and my best friend playing.

I WISH...

I wish I would just get a life so much less complex, so much less stressful. If only wishes were horses! I wish the world-train would stop for a moment to let me catch my breath, even get off the train for a stroll of my own. I wouldn't mind, am sure, if the world train were to start again and pass me by, I am sure after travelling for some time, it would stop for the next 'me' to get off, by then I would have made a decision whether to get back in or stay out.

I wish I had the luxury of wasting time and not having severe repercussions, I wish my pockets were overflowing with gold and diamonds to last me a lifetime, so that I would sit back, relax and never have an ounce of worry in my system. If only this would buy me eternity and immortality would I obsess, if only this would ensure a perfect life for me. Only then would I really really wish and work for all the riches this world can offer.

I wish I had a better system of governance to rule over me, I wish there was complete fairness and transparency in the way things are conducted. I wish corruption would turn into a plague and wipe out whoever attempts to catch it. Oh! I wish the unjust, unkind, killers and back stabbers would burn under the scorching sun, if only I was perfect would I really really pray for damnation to all 'evildoers'.

I wish the world would learn the art of love, I wish it would be perfected. I wish the many verbal declarations of love to others would be true. Then, we would have no wars, no murders, no prejudice, no tears of betrayal and anger... We would have a peaceful world, no street families, no refugees, no prisons and certainly Hell would be empty.....I wish I would have a polite conversation with a stranger without raising suspicion and alarm, especially in major cities. If only me would perfect the art of love and kindness, then would I initiate the wheel of change, and urge others to join without batting an eye.

I wish I did not have to wish. Many a times my wish-grants are elusive, so wishing is a recipe for disappointment. But I will wish anyway. I will wish and hope for the best despite many troubles, I will wish for strength to go through what cannot be helped. I will wish for a better world and a better people. I will wish for that, so that me, you and them can co-exist better with mother nature, instead of punishing each other now and then. And certainly so that we can relate better with our maker. I wish.....

THE MIDWIFE IN ME- first delivery

That day, I woke up expectant and determined.  I would get to perform my very own first 'normal' delivery, with close supervision and back up. I was a mixture of excitement, nervousness and on the edge. I took my breakfast and headed for the Maternity wing. Thankfully, it was not very busy nor was it as calm. Busy meant so much activities that you hardly do one composed thing without another interrupting you. Fairly busy meant a steady flow of work, with breaks to let you take a breather.

After the handing over report, I headed for the labor suite. It was a good morning, there were several mothers in labor and we were fewer students comparatively. I greeted them and got to run through their files. I knew their stories alright. I picked an easier candidate, 'easier' in the fact that she had delivered before, if you are knowledgeable in midwifery you know why it is easier. Call me a student who takes the easier path, I wanted a smooth first time....After all they taught us that the learning concept should start with the simple details headed towards the difficult ones.

I approached this lady(I choose to call her Nelly)whom I had chosen, identified myself and requested to take care of her till she delivered. I was still under a qualified midwife, but I had settled in. It was not like the first day really. She smiled at me and asked me to rub her back while she went through a contraction. "Of course." I said giving her my best back rub. "You a student?" She wanted to know. I confirmed what my identification tag read and what I had earlier told her. She smiled at me as though reassuring me. "How many babies have you helped deliver..." She said it as though it was more of a statement rather than a question. I pondered on the answer. Was this a trick question?

"I have witnessed several deliveries, I have assisted in a few, but I have never primarily conducted one." I answered truthfully. She wanted to say something but another strong contraction hit her. I rubbed her back and hoped for the best. "I am a nurse myself." I basically did not hear anything else she said after the bomb she just dropped. We, medics are officially known as the worst patients,not that she was one, but it served that purpose. Her file read otherwise, Nelly said she was also into business. I momentarily freaked, I wanted out. "You will do just fine. We can help each other you know.." She said smiling. I was shocked, but hid it well. She was the nicest medic-client I had come across in a long time. Most women have reservations about a student tending to them, understandably so.

Nelly progressed well, she was brave and knew the do's and don't's of labor. She was actually teaching me some stuff by just watching and listening to her. She knew before I did an examination on her that she was ready to deliver. "I have an urge to bear down" More like, I wanna go poop. Upon examination, she had sure reached full dilatation. Off to the delivery suite, my teacher never leaving me.

I scrubbed and gowned, cleaned and draped Nelly. So far so good because my teacher just stood inches away supervising my every move. For some reason, I was not so nervous. Nelly was comfortable to be around. I gave Nelly the obvious advice(not that she needed it), "with each contraction, push your baby out. Without one, take your rest." Daang! I sounded like a midwife! She nodded her head. "You will do just fine, I can see the baby's hair." I encouraged her. She smiled at the thought of holding her baby. A contraction hit her, my teacher and I encouraged her to push the baby out. She gave her best push and the head was delivered. I quickly checked for any cord around the baby's neck. Finding none and with restitution having taken place, I gently held the head and delivered the upper body with a downward movement,then upward movement freed the lower body. I heard my teacher announce the time of delivery as I placed the baby on the mother's abdomen. It gasped and gave a loud wail of protest. I smiled as I clamped and cut the cord. They were now separated, mother and child, after months of being together. It was a girl, a beautiful little thing that made my heart melt.

 I finished the after birth activities with much caution though confident.

In her mother's arms, the baby calmed and almost immediately started surveying her environment. Her little eyes would momentarily focus on some object as though she could already figure it out. Taken from her mother's arms, she squealed as she was wiped dry and kept warm. She had a perfect weight and a quick examination later revealed no obvious anomalies. She was already making suckling sounds which was adorable. I wished she was mine as I held her for the second time, she looked at me and I felt  a warm feeling take control of my body. Nelly was so grateful for my help and I was happy she and her young one were fine. Baby Nelly was placed on her mother's breast and she started suckling like a pro. "No, thank you Nelly for an opportunity to help me grow in my career."

I was elated to say the least, happy and grateful that all was well. I was on the right learning path. Not all moments go fine, you learn that when a tragedy hits you right in your face. Watch out for my next blog to learn more on my day gone complex.

THAT NAKED TRUTH

I stepped into a church yesterday for the first time in like forever. It was an awkward feeling going into the presence of God, His sanctuary that I had not visited for such a long time. Actually, let me go back to the beginning.
At around 8:40am, I stirred from my sleep, looked at my phone and started planning my day. It was something to do with church but there was not an ounce of enthusiasm to it. Rather, it was a guilt trip, I started feeling bad that despite ignoring God's sanctuary in like forever, I was still alive, healthy, had a complete family, had clothing and shelter...my most basic things. I had actually seen the new year, something I definitely did not deserve. I remembered those 'more deserving' people who had horrible things happen to them, those languishing in hospitals and other places. Those lacking the most basic of all things, those in very very unfair situations. I did not feel more important, I felt defeated by His Grace because that was what it was, pure grace...It is promiscuous, I am living proof..It did follow me despite my shortcomings, despite me not seeking Him.

As I lay in my bed still thinking about many things, I heard this 'noise' that was coming from a block away. It was very loud and I started to mumble, I said to me, "Do these noise regulation rules not work anymore?" I was frustrated and pissed. Then I listened again, and behold the 'noise' was such a beautiful melody coming from a nearby church. The music was that of worship, it was awesome in a refreshing manner. I felt ashamed because I was quick to condemn the 'noise' yet I was not bothered by the restaurant across my place that was outrageously loud at night. In fact, I had learnt to sleep right through the music with no much complaints. I felt ashamed to say the least.

Anywho, I got out of bed and prepared myself for a session with God. It was time to face Him.I did not plan on hiding my head in a shell like a turtle, that's where the devil wanted me. He used that guilt and I fell for it. I am one of the most judgmental people you can possibly find. I judge myself and even condemn me at times. I judged the Christianity in people, I judged the pastors and leaders of the church. I have seen enough examples of people using the gospel to exploit unsuspecting victims (if I may call them that-excuse me...1st John 4:1-6(NIV) Dear friends, do not believe every spirit,but test the spirits to see whether they are from God,because many false prophets have gone out into the world......it goes on to elaborate how to discern).Again I am judging so help me God, I know I am instructed not to judge lest I be judged..Matthew 7:1-3," Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way as you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you....."


I left my house and cautiously walked into the church, I was sure I would bolt at the first sign of 'unchrist like' activities. I think they exist, they are not uncommon and unfortunately most Christians get tangled into the vicious web, knowingly or otherwise, I don't know. So, I enter, I am warmly greeted by a friendly usher and shown where to seat. I walk up to my seat, its intercessory time and people are praying,some kneeling some standing. They are in deep talks with God, I feel lost for  moment. I take my seat and decide to talk to God. At this point, I still have my fears if not reservations. I am cautious if not paranoid, but as time goes I start to settle in. These people seem sincere with God and that encourages me, I start to settle in. At some point, the leader of the prayers asks the church to repent of the sin of hatred. It does make sense, it does make lots of sense. He asked us to pray for love in our midst.

1st Corinthians 13:4-8(NIV), "Love is patient,love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered it keeps no records of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts,always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails......."
1st John 4:20(NIV) 'If anyone says, "I love God," yet he hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.'

All the above make sense, and are true. I harbored dislike for some people, I needed to let go. It is not easy, but it was a step. I felt selfish; unforgiving me wanted forgiving Jesus to forgive me. Ironical huh? I said the Lord's prayer often enough, the phrase '....And forgive us our trespasses, as WE FORGIVE those who trespass against us....'was part of what I uttered. Hmmmmm, lying even in my prayers? I had so much to clear with my maker.
I am not alone in this, most people harbor hatred for at least one person, grudges are all over in the air. Silent or loud, they are there.
Fortunately for the human race, us, there is redemption, grace and mercy. For no one is perfect. Romans 3:10(NIV),'As it is written, There is no-one righteous, not even one.'
That does encourage me, but we have to strive to be Christ-like. He set a high standard, we have to make an effort to be like Him.


The service, to say the least was awesome. I felt comfortable, I felt welcomed in my makers presence despite my shortcomings, despite not going into His house for more than I can remember, He was willing to welcome His lost sheep. He did not judge me, He encouraged me to be more like Him. There was this air of pure happiness, peace and joy that I had been missing for ages. I was spiritually starved, undernourished and the sad thing about it, I had no idea all along.Psalms 16:11(NIV) '......you feel me with joy in your presence....' I left the sanctuary better than I went in. I left that place confident as opposed to how I had gone in.

Bottom line is, you have a good functional body(and as a medic that's not to be taken for granted), you have the basic needs fulfilled and extra others. You have a job(something we take for granted at times), you are safe and so on. It is not automatic your life to be okay, it takes a divine power to ensure that. The grace God gives is unbelievably awesome. If you are in my former shoes, just make a revisit your relationship with God, you need Him, He needs you to need Him, but He can do without us. We on the other hand are nothing without Him.  Deuteronomy 4:29(NIV), 'But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart and with all your soul.' Be grateful to God for every little detail in your life,and always put Him first. He is a jealous God... Exodus 20:5.

THE MIDWIFE IN ME

When I first entered the doors of labor ward I was in awe. I had not experienced such  level of noise within hospital walls. I was a student then. Most signs we see in any hospital or clinic set up urge you to maintain silence. Remember that nurse in white with her index finger on her mouth indicating silence? Yeah, don't expect to find her in the labor and delivery suites. Noise here is inevitable, in fact its become some sort of melody albeit unorganized. The post natal ward is different in that the noise makers are the neonates, well, its a joy to hear them now and then protesting to whatever they think is wrong.

I do not remember in detail what transpired during my first clinical day as a student midwife,mostly because my mind was still trying to put all those book details they teach you to practice. I was a nervous wreck to say the least; books give you a certain kind of confidence that is tested in the practical aspect of the subject. One day whilst studying in class, I actually thought I was ready to help deliver a young one, it was just a matter of perfecting the maneuvers, right? Turns out you need massive practice to 'perfect' that art.

There were several mothers in active labor. Active as in their cervical dilatation was 4cm and above, the contractions were increasing in intensity and frequency. In short, the misery of being in pain was well  highlighted and I felt sorry for them. I was, as students should be, under the 'care' of my instructor and qualified midwife whom I followed around learning what I could on day one. She was of course pretty used to almost everything pertaining to labor and child birth. She had her own first day stories that made me somewhat at ease. She could tell her protegee was struggling to take it all in at once.

We were allocated lady A, a first time mother-to-be(Primgravida) who was more nervous than I probably was. Having heard several versions of how labor would be, she sat on her bed sweating expecting the worst pains ever. When an examination was done and she was informed her progress was just fine, she shot out, "When will it get worse?" Wrong question to another nervous person. My instructor was there to save the day, she did all she could to reassure her. Lady A seemed to relax for some few minutes. A scream from her neighbor made her get from her bed and walk about. "Will I scream like that?" She asked me. I honestly didn't know if she would scream like that so I just asked her to breathe deeply when a contraction hit her. I felt lame.

"How come she is not screaming?"  I asked my instructor. Of course I had learnt each person's pain perception is different but I could not believe a mother with such contractions would be calm, especially a primgravida. I want labor like that, I told myself. No screaming, no embarrassing me, no drama. I am yet to find out what my score on  that will be, if I get a chance to undergo labor. What I later discovered is that there is no shame in labor ward. A mother will rip out her clothes and beg for very cold water. Some say the heat is unbearable. Some even advice you as a young lady not be 'cheated' by these men. Others promise to never bear children again, only to find them back two or so years down the line very pregnant. In short, do not seriously take into account 'nasty' words uttered by a mother in labor, but listen anyway.

Back to lady A. She was lucky to have her husband by her side, rubbing her back whenever she was contracting, fanning her when the heat was much, encouraging her and such stuff. Men, it does help to support your woman through labor, but honestly not all of you are cut out for that. If you cannot stand the site of the whole labor thing, take a walk, lurk nearby lest you faint. I have seen some men faint in the delivery suite, later after an inquiry, you understand they got super-scared especially because of the site of blood....
 Two hours later, she was having strong contractions, the pain had kicked in full swing. The calm lady began her melodious wail, occasionally turning to her husband and offering a piece of her mind. Just like that, my role model was gone and in her place stood the person I hoped she would not turn into. During all the wails, no tears were produced. They say you feel the pain to the root of your hair, tears are hard to come by, but that is from some individuals. I was instantly fast forwarded to the future and I saw me wailing (louder than her) in labor. As a hopeful mother to be, I was discouraged.

Our mother reached fully dilation after hours and in to the delivery suite we went. Out came the baby along with stuff I am careful not to mention for the sake of my audience. The pain, you could see it in her eyes, was worth it. The beautiful thing that had caused so much grief gave her such joy that you could capture it. She was in tears, grateful to God, the midwives and she was all over again more in love with her husband. I tried so hard not to cry with her when she held her young one. No one can ever take away such a moment from you as a midwife. It is divine, it is one of the best feelings to watch a mother hold her young knowing they are all healthy and alive. They tell you the pain goes away immediately the baby is born and some cannot remember what it was like. As mother, dad and angel bonded, I felt a sense of pride. I had survived the first few hours of my day. I felt confident enough to face the remainder of my day in labor ward. I knew I had not made a mistake in pursuing a course in midwifery.

CARRY ON, NEVER GIVE UP.

Sitting in a corner watching the horizon, not really watching but in deep thoughts. So much to be done in a short span of time. Such little resources, if any. Worrying and over thinking does not help much, it only wastes time that would otherwise have been spent thinking of a way-forward plan. Giving up is not an option,neither is giving in to other plans, well at least not until all other plan A avenues are exhausted.

Life is fair and again not fair. It hands you opportunities at some point, and things just generally flow. At some point later, it denies you chances that make you wonder if it was meant to be or you at times doubt your abilities and hope for a great future. If you do not have the perseverance quality and fighting spirit in you, giving up is the easiest thing to do. During those moments, others' success and abilities are magnified in your sight, what you had earlier overlooked or simply not noted before about their success is heightened. You can choose to let that dampen your spirit or encourage you. The later is a more wise choice.

Most successful people have their story, listening to them gets you to understand that motivation, vision and planning are crucial. Resources will get you where you want if only you have the above three. Others, with minimal resources, hold on to hope and faith while never taking their eyes off the prize. Eventually, no matter how long it takes or how rough it gets, those few people make it to the promised land. Some of their stories will captivate you, make you reflect further on your life and so forth. Some of the stories seem far fetched, but the results do convince you otherwise.

 Most of us give in or up somewhere along the rough road, not realizing that a breakthrough was just a few steps away. An infant has to learn how to crawl, then learn how to walk. This does not come without a few falls and scratches. The kid will cry yes, it hurts, but I have never seen a child learning how to walk give in to the fear of falling and getting bruised. Their enthusiastic nature keeps them on their toes and eventually they can run!! If only we adults could tap into our infancy enthusiasm....
Choosing to look back and concentrating on the hardship you have experienced along the way should not be a way of caving in to the doubting Thomas in you. It should be a way of encouragement, if you have come thus far, then you no doubt can complete the journey ahead no matter how dark and twisted the tunnel is. If you can prove your fears wrong, the brave in you grows more. We all know we have both the negative and positive wolves in us. Feed courage and it will dominate your whole being, feed fear and disbelief and that too will dominate you and take you nowhere interesting.

At times, all of us face fear, loose hope and are discouraged at some point in our life. It is normal, it is very human of us. However, learning when to get out of our cocoon is what makes the difference between those who made it and those who almost made it. The world does not celebrate those who almost made it my friends, it celebrates those who did and made a difference in doing so. So, carry on despite the obstacles. Quit having a 'pity' party, if you must have it, don't take too long, all parties have an end. If you would rather extend the party, don't drag others who are enroute to success. In short, drag no one but yourself down the 'I almost made it' drain. If you have to,drag people along the success path, they will one day thank you for it, at least those who make it.


The pace, if you ask me, does not really matter. As one wise good friend of mine said, "It is not a competition to see who gets material possession first and fast, but it is important to live your life on your own terms and not society terms." I think the point put across was important. Move at your own pace, live on your own terms, succeed because you need to reach self actualization not because you need to prove a point, as much as that soothes your ego. Do not compare your path with other people's paths, walk your own and achieve your own goals your own way.


Honestly, its easier said than done and as I write this, I wonder if I will live up to my own advice. But then I know I have no choice, I must cultivate courage and a belief in my ability (through my maker). Otherwise the fear wolf will dominate. So see you my friends on the other side, the 'I made it' side because that's where I am headed. :-)

THEY REALLY ARE FRIENDS...

She smiles as they compliment her, laugh as they crack a joke she does not understand. She could care less anyway, she is happy being with her friends.

 She steps away, laughter follows her back. She is happy her friends are having so much fun. She steps out of the house to meet her boyfriend. All eyes at her retreating back, waiting and watching. "I hear he owns a Merc" One of them jeers. A few snorts of disbelief and then silence. More stares. All huddled at the window, eyes straining to see her prince charming. They quickly retreat to the living room as they await the prince.

Seconds later, the naive girl emerges. She is in the arms of a handsome man beaming as she introduces him to her friends. "Hi!!" They all respond happy to meet him. He is quite a catch, they all agree. The clothes are not bad either, another whispers and they all smile. All is lost to the girl,she is just happy her friends like her boyfriend.

 

The prince charming has to leave. Disappointed faces inquire, "Where to?You just got here." He smiles that dashing smile of his and explains. She had forgotten some tiny detail, he was leaving for Australia, and was en route to the airport via her place. "She insisted I meet her friends, and so, here I am." They insist on tagging along to the airport, he declines politely and insists he will be fine in a taxi. He says his goodbye to them, a special one for her. A couple of jealous eyes stare.

"Yeah, honey, what is he going to Australia for?" One of them inquires. Just some business, she replies dismissing the topic. Lets plan our weekend, she suggests. "Good idea", they all genuinely agree.

Later that night.....

"Did you see her clothes?"

"Yeah! And those pitiful shoes?"

"What did he see in her?"

More snorts, jeers and genuine dislike for the naive girl, their friend's taste in dressing. 

"What was his name again, bet he could use someone of his class"

Murmurs of agreement rent the air, an idea is actually born out of that.

Two weeks later, he asks her out to dinner. "Be careful honey, with whom you entrust your secrets." He urges her. He knows the girls are not her genuine friends but he does not know how to say it without sounding malicious. He knows she is a bit naive to how the world works. Her innocent nature and genuine inner beauty is what attracted her to him in the first place.

"I am careful honey, you know I am wise" She replies.She is wise yes, but not the worldly wisdom. She grew up sheltered and thus not exposed to harsh realities. How else does he explain to her that one of her friends is coming onto him, very strongly for that matter. She revealed that she does not understand why he loved the silly girl. Being the gentleman he was, dismissed her as politely as he could.

The naive girl has her weaknesses, she does not hide them and readily shares with her friends. They empathize, sympathize and offer solutions. They even let her cry on their 'shoulders', she is happy they listen and care. Such wonderful friends.

Within days, her story was out in the open. Each of her friends issuing a vehement denial of being the source of the leak. She was devastated, stabbed and bleeding but willing to forget.

"Honey, there's something you need to know. Please don't be quick to judge my words" He could take it no more.

As gently as he could, he poured out what he had kept hidden for long. His love was not furious, far from that. She was calm, collected and cool. She smiled at him, thanked him for caring and insisted it was not true.

Later in deep thought, it dawned on her. She had many friends, but only a few were truly friends. She had her first worldly lesson and it made her smile that bitter sweet smile. She was growing alright and he had a hand in that. The 'friends' were indeed useful, they had taught her a valuable lesson.

After all, it is friends that we put our trust in, and they teach us the most lessons especially when our trust is betrayed. So worry not when your life is full of 'friends'. They make us wiser and help us grow.