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When you work with beautiful people, the type of joy that would palpitate your heart, even your blood pressure would appear normotensive and your body would shake with joyful rigors.

Today, Dr Musa is telling me to write a consult, so I am writing. Suddenly, he begins to shout and so I think his head is hot because everywhere is hot and he is sweating or maybe he’s not really alright upstairs but he is not one of the eccentric ones so I give him benefit of doubt. True to God, Dr Musa is usually a nice person; chatting with us, teaching us skills, not forcing us to buy him food. I think it is these female doctors that like to send too much and not even mind their business too.

Then I hear him clear and I understand. He says my handwriting is not clear. I do not need to look at it again. It is not new that my handwriting is ugly so I am wondering why that calls for such an outburst. I do not blame him as he is not usually like this. This must be that abnormal brain switch that can range from variable to constant in a person that is causing this.

Then he calms down and tries to explain.

‘I know my handwriting is not clear either and doctors generally have an unclear handwriting because we hurry to make the documentation so we can begin the management to save life but you can try to make it a little clearer.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Don’t worry any more. You already look tired.’ Why would I not look tired, working back to back? We have exceeded closing time by two hours and this babe doctor has not even eaten all day.

He is calmer now so I know it is that psychological variable that made him shout like he was having cardiac arrest.

‘I’ll continue taking the dictation, sir.’

Then he asks my partner if he can read my handwriting and that one replies that he can, then he asks me if I can read what I wrote. I want to say ‘Like duh sir, is it not my handwriting?’

‘No sir’ I reply.

He gives the paper to my partner. This is another cause for worry for me. Like why can’t these people write themselves? Apart from treating people, we the junior ones also take dictation because it appears that our seniors cannot remember how to spell and write, maybe because they are reading too much to pass their exam that is why they cannot remember or maybe their hand is just paining them.

So my colleague takes a new sheet and as he begins to write, I have to go outside to laugh so I do not cause more trouble. His handwriting is like a chicken scratch on sand. Whoever reads it would surely go into rage and request for the registrar in charge. My registrar can see that his handwriting is more horrible than mine.

I return and stare at what he is writing. There is a sly smile on my partner’s face and the senior colleague suspects that he is intentionally doing this. The dictation finishes and my senior colleague can tell that nobody can read this thing, my partner winks at me.

He sends him to deliver the consult then calls him short of him leaving. One of his colleagues walks in and so interrupts him. My colleague moves towards me and says

‘I intentionally wrote that way because he shouted at you.’ I smile.

Neither of us really has a good handwriting normally although we can write well if we want to, but if it were to be some oversabis that is when their best handwriting would suddenly come into play.

Dr Musa grabs the consult and tears it. He takes a chair to seat and begins to write his consult himself. My partner and I exchange knowing smiles.

This is one of the many times he has silently fought my battles and no he does not have a crush on me. Except of course he is gay.

 

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