Chapter 4: Discipline and Memories

Office door dey open, and some interns wey follow me for rounds dey gist for corridor.

Dem no know say my ear dey sharp. Their voice dey go up small, e resemble secondary school noise.

"Una no get work? Na for hospital una come do internship or to dey gossip?"

I talk am soft but strong, my face hard small. Na so everybody freeze like statue.

"You, go ward, write down when patient dey chop, when dem dey go toilet."

I point one boy—e eyes wide like torchlight. E rush go ward, dey shake.

"You, waka go nurse station, help count afternoon medicine. Make sure say you check well—no go make mistake."

The other girl run waka. You go think say dem dey pursue am.

I waka reach office door, talk to them with low voice.

I lower my voice make other staff no hear. I no wan disgrace them, but I need set ground. For hospital, discipline na key.

Everywhere quiet one time. The interns shock, then run—before you blink, dem disappear.

I just dey look as dem disappear. I remember say this same hospital, some years ago, if you slack na heavy punishment. Now, na different generation.

"This new generation, dem get mind sha."

I shake my head, no fit do anything.

I smile small, remember when I dey do my own internship. One time, our senior doctor catch us dey gist, e make us mop the whole corridor. These ones na small pikin for matter.

I remember when I start as intern: if I even try gather for corridor dey gist, our senior doctors for don finish us with shout.

Sometimes, I dey wish discipline no lost for this our work. But the world dey change fast, and we go change follow.

As I dey pack my things for department meeting, phone for my table ring.

The ringtone na old Fuji song—my wife help me set am. I look the screen, na extension from outpatient. My mind don dey ready for any emergency.

"Dr. Ifedike, abeg come outpatient clinic."

The nurse voice sharp. I no even waste time, grab lab coat, waka fast. E fit be anything for hospital—no time to slack.