It is scary how the minds of people have changed. It used to be that parents taught their children not to get pregnant unless he married her, but now I hear all sorts of things. This is a story about a patient of mine. About a year and the half ago I met a young 16 year old naive girl in my office. She came to see me for an initial obstetrics visit (aka. IOB).
At the time, I gave her my usual teen pregnancy lecture, it got intense at some point and I remembered asking her mom to leave the room because she kept laughing and wasn't taking me seriously. After that visit, to the surprise of my staff, the young lady followed up with all of her appointments until eventually she dissappeared off the face of the earth and we were unsure of what happened to her.
A few months later, which was months past her due date, she came in to my office pregnant and I was very confused because she should have had the baby. That day to my dismay I learned that this was a new pregnancy and she miscarried the last one. I felt like a worthless doctor, I had wasted my time talking to her and she was given a chance to start her life anew but instead is back in my office for ob care. With tears in my eyes, I asked to talk this time with the whole family including this boyfriend. During this meeting I learned a lot about this family's values, my patient's mom at one point said "you no doc, amo tell you the truth, we allow her boyfriend live with her in her room, that way we least know the father of her baby."
I was filled with silence at first but eventually found my voice and asked her parents if they were married and they said yes. And I asked her why she couldn't teach her daughter to be married, or finish school first. I wanted to know why exactly she was instilling in her daughter that it was well for another man to take pride and half ownership of her body without respecting her enough to commit himself. I went on to tell her that whatever little self esteem her daughter has, by bringing her up this way she had made it worst. And her response to me was "Doctor ChiChi ah still thinks is beta for me, 'cause they gats people I know tha don't know who's the father of their grandbabies." Wow I thought...then I rest my case
Well I was present as the delivering physician, and while handing her to the new mom I asked God to be with this child. During her postpartum visit, I was prepared for her, I didn't want to give up on her futue. We discussed intensely about prevention and finishing school and I was so sure that I made a connection.
Well that newborn is not even a year old and I have another IOB visit with her, she is again 5 months pregnant. So do I say congrats? I enjoy delivering babies but I find myself saying less congratulations and doing more worrying. I find it hard to congratulate a 14 year old on a pregnancy, or one who tested positive for cocaine and 2 other drugs, I just do my job. Though I like the opportunity to make a difference, i must confess it is nice to see those couples who are stable and trying to start their little family.
How do they afford it? At their age I was trying to build a future with comfort (I was selfish), and even as my huasband and I plan, we are budgeting future costs and so on. How are they so bold and fearless to not worry about bringing the little innocents with no finds>
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
I am getting ready to embrace My Stubborn Hair
When I was a little girl, I remembered my mom keeping my hair short, while my sister wore braids. I never understood why, and one day when she got tired of me feeling left out, she asked me if I wanted to grow my hair out. Well of course I said yes, for once I will look as beautiful as my sister, she always had the coolest braids ... well I remembered my mom fighting with my hair as she tried to comb through my hair. I remembered we would both come out of the room angry after it was over. I dreaded those days and hence regretted that my decision.
Everyone including the local stylist, encouraged my mom to perm my hair saying my hair was too stubborn and unique, well mom refused to perm our hairs and I heard her say "I refuse to raise fast girls and if she wants to cut it she always has that option." Lol- like perming your hair ultimately makes you fast.
Now at this point, my mom didn't care anymore because she now payed someone else weekly to keep my hair in braids and to do the combing. I learned during this process that moms are much nicer than strangers when combing your hair and I really began to accept how really stubborn my hair was. My mom's only job now was to load me up with panadol prior to my going to the braiding stylist, I had to do the rest of the work, including sitting for hours, with my face dug into the braiding stylist smelling vagina. Well prior to my starting day secondary school, I had to cut my hair and most girls who went to my school cried but I came home with a smile because now I could breath, I did not have to put a comb through my "stubborn-thick-lucious-hair" every weekend and I did not have to keep my nose for hours in a smelling woman's wrapper. I was pleased to wet my hair everyday and not worry about my mom smacking my face so hard that my head spinned. I couldn't believe that I was finally free!
Well I had my hair short until I came to America, specifically Auburndale. We hated the idea of moving and we wanted to go back home every chance we got. Now what does this have to do with my hair? well the kids at school made me feel welcome, I was called all sorts of things "ugly African," broom stick- do you want my left overs," "you look like a boy and so on." My mom was very good at making us overlook everything they said but the only one she took action over was the boy comment and she decided for me then that I will grow my hair. Urghhh... I thought and yes I re-lived every memory of my childhood hair until I permed it on prom night, March of 2000. I was the happiest girl alive and I still am whenever I perm my hair. But I tell you as you get older, your taste does change and I want to celebrate the natural hair God gave me. This is the beginning of all of the good things I expect this year. I am going back to those stubborn roots.
I have talked about it for years and my stylists, hubby and friends have discouraged me saying your hair is so thick, uh-uh don't come to me for help -lol Well it is my 10 and the half year with perm and I hope I make it. My hubby has been nervous about it but I have talked about it so much that he gave in.
My hair currently is a little past shoulder length when straightened, I am open to ideas and suggestions to make this process easier, including product ideas. Thanks for reading :)
Everyone including the local stylist, encouraged my mom to perm my hair saying my hair was too stubborn and unique, well mom refused to perm our hairs and I heard her say "I refuse to raise fast girls and if she wants to cut it she always has that option." Lol- like perming your hair ultimately makes you fast.
Now at this point, my mom didn't care anymore because she now payed someone else weekly to keep my hair in braids and to do the combing. I learned during this process that moms are much nicer than strangers when combing your hair and I really began to accept how really stubborn my hair was. My mom's only job now was to load me up with panadol prior to my going to the braiding stylist, I had to do the rest of the work, including sitting for hours, with my face dug into the braiding stylist smelling vagina. Well prior to my starting day secondary school, I had to cut my hair and most girls who went to my school cried but I came home with a smile because now I could breath, I did not have to put a comb through my "stubborn-thick-lucious-hair" every weekend and I did not have to keep my nose for hours in a smelling woman's wrapper. I was pleased to wet my hair everyday and not worry about my mom smacking my face so hard that my head spinned. I couldn't believe that I was finally free!
Well I had my hair short until I came to America, specifically Auburndale. We hated the idea of moving and we wanted to go back home every chance we got. Now what does this have to do with my hair? well the kids at school made me feel welcome, I was called all sorts of things "ugly African," broom stick- do you want my left overs," "you look like a boy and so on." My mom was very good at making us overlook everything they said but the only one she took action over was the boy comment and she decided for me then that I will grow my hair. Urghhh... I thought and yes I re-lived every memory of my childhood hair until I permed it on prom night, March of 2000. I was the happiest girl alive and I still am whenever I perm my hair. But I tell you as you get older, your taste does change and I want to celebrate the natural hair God gave me. This is the beginning of all of the good things I expect this year. I am going back to those stubborn roots.
I have talked about it for years and my stylists, hubby and friends have discouraged me saying your hair is so thick, uh-uh don't come to me for help -lol Well it is my 10 and the half year with perm and I hope I make it. My hubby has been nervous about it but I have talked about it so much that he gave in.
My hair currently is a little past shoulder length when straightened, I am open to ideas and suggestions to make this process easier, including product ideas. Thanks for reading :)
Friday, November 12, 2010
God works in mysterious ways
At the same time I posted the previous blog, my husband calls and I got a chance to talk his ear out for a little bit, so ... there goes the sweet bitter life of this igbo princess ...good night
What a day!
So I started off this day imagining how horrible it will be. I didn't start this day talking to my husband because he was on duty last night (it may sound superstitious but talking to him helps me get through the day). I went to make my rounds and quickly went to see my healthy patient, so that I would feel better about my day, but the patient decompensated overnight, and had to go for emergency surgery. Oh no! I thought I have a presentation today at noon conference and I learnt that the other resident was not going to make it. Oh no! again I thought I should not have procastinated, but as always I had a good reason I have been sick lately. Well I didn't have the heart to ask to get out of it because I knew about it for a while not. It was an obstetrics morbidity and mortality ughhh!
Anyways, I stayed up last night and came up with a case that happened 2 years ago when I was an intern, a pregnant woman who was a disaster waiting to happen and refused a c-section, well 10 hours and 13 minutes later she delivers a 12 Ib, 1 oz baby boy vaginally. It wasn't a big morbidity and mortality case but I had some great teaching points and to my surprise everyone loved it. I had this feeling of relief and then one of my attending's said when are you presenting your trip to Nigeria and now I am going crazy trying to figure out what day it is so that I can religously try not to procastinate. I am still staring at the phone waiting to hear my favorite ringtone (the hubby's number)....Hope you all had a great day.
Anyways, I stayed up last night and came up with a case that happened 2 years ago when I was an intern, a pregnant woman who was a disaster waiting to happen and refused a c-section, well 10 hours and 13 minutes later she delivers a 12 Ib, 1 oz baby boy vaginally. It wasn't a big morbidity and mortality case but I had some great teaching points and to my surprise everyone loved it. I had this feeling of relief and then one of my attending's said when are you presenting your trip to Nigeria and now I am going crazy trying to figure out what day it is so that I can religously try not to procastinate. I am still staring at the phone waiting to hear my favorite ringtone (the hubby's number)....Hope you all had a great day.
Monday, October 18, 2010
TMI or STI
Ok so I really have no business using short hands since I have to google pretty much all of them to find out what they mean. T.M.I is Too Much information and STI is sexually transmitted infection. This is not a post particularly about STI. I have been fortunate never to have an STI including HPV, I have only been with one partner my whole life and I am also not going to address that in this post. This is really about "the talking people" who meet you at the train station, or in an airplane or while you were sitting quietly at a park thinking ... and wantto share TMI. Sometimes I wonder if my smile is too catchy, so I have practiced an awkward smile in the mirror, especially if I know I want a quiet day. Sometimes, I have thought maybe saying hi first is too welcoming and so I have practiced saying nothing. I have even thought that maybe it was my style of dressing so, I sometimes change my style to appear snobbish.
Anyways I have come to the conclusion that there are just some people that share too much. So here is how I came to my conclusion, I was on a rotation with a few of my colleagues and the topic of discussion was STIs (sexually transmitted Infections). So my attending (our teacher) asked if Bacterial Vaginosis was sexually transmitted and I answered no but it is more common in sexually active women or women who douch not exactly because of sex but likely because of the lower pH of the young lady. She then asked about trichomoniasis and we all immediately said yes, that it is an STI well to our suprise she disagreed and we thought about it and in order to prove her point she went on to share how when she was in college she had this nasty discharge for a while and after she went to the clinic she discovered that she had trich and she was not sexually active. So I was embarrassed when I later realized that my mouth was wide open, wow! I thought ... just a little too much information. Boy! she could have replaced herself for a college friend in her attempt to convince us that trich was not an STI. Was it all that necessary? while all of these was going through my head, my mouth was open. One of my colleagues pinched me and I immediately closed my mouth and said "well I suppose the cause of trich is motile and lives for sometime and I suppose you could in fact get it from a toilet sit, if you are a frequent public toilet user and actually sit on the bowl." I later felt completely stupid when the rest of the team reminded me that they had long moved on to another topic.
Anyways I have come to the conclusion that there are just some people that share too much. So here is how I came to my conclusion, I was on a rotation with a few of my colleagues and the topic of discussion was STIs (sexually transmitted Infections). So my attending (our teacher) asked if Bacterial Vaginosis was sexually transmitted and I answered no but it is more common in sexually active women or women who douch not exactly because of sex but likely because of the lower pH of the young lady. She then asked about trichomoniasis and we all immediately said yes, that it is an STI well to our suprise she disagreed and we thought about it and in order to prove her point she went on to share how when she was in college she had this nasty discharge for a while and after she went to the clinic she discovered that she had trich and she was not sexually active. So I was embarrassed when I later realized that my mouth was wide open, wow! I thought ... just a little too much information. Boy! she could have replaced herself for a college friend in her attempt to convince us that trich was not an STI. Was it all that necessary? while all of these was going through my head, my mouth was open. One of my colleagues pinched me and I immediately closed my mouth and said "well I suppose the cause of trich is motile and lives for sometime and I suppose you could in fact get it from a toilet sit, if you are a frequent public toilet user and actually sit on the bowl." I later felt completely stupid when the rest of the team reminded me that they had long moved on to another topic.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Whip My Hair
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvV3l-dbRTI&feature=related
I am impressed and envy this chick (and not particularly because of the song), Willow Smith, especially since my father did not allow any artistic talent in our home. My father had this communist style when it came to raising his children. The bottom line was that he gave birth to us and so dictated everything that we did ... I mean everything; i.e. we had schedules growing up and we had to follow it closely (annoyingly there was more reading time than recess); we all had to come first place in class and so on.
I mean when Echeazu's kids came second place in school, people cried for us, because they knew we would be in trouble when we got home. We didn't play in school during recess because Daddy was Chiarman of the school board and our uniforms had to be as clean as it was when we left for school. Many a times, I got into trouble for my smart comments, I wondered why soap was invented if as kids we had to keep our uniforms so clean. Beats me now still
Anyways, we were not allowed to play football (soccer), we played tennis instead, since it was more modern. Actually, I think it was because it was one of the alternative sports featured in some of the western channels from our satellite dish.
Who raises their kids to be snobs? Oh and how dare we speak incorrect english, or vernacular, or pigin english (street English) or Igbo (our native tongue) we had to only speak English so that everyone knew that his money was well spent in our private school education.
We were smart kids though lol, we did everything behind his back. Oh I remember we used to wear double clothing to school (in the 104 -degree-weather of Nigeria) just so that we could take off our school uniforms after school and play ball, that way our uniforms would still be clean and momcy and popcy wouldn't find out. As if that wasn't enough, we used to play barefoot, so that our socks will not be dirty and for fear that our sandals may break and we had to explain how it happened. Looking back now, we were so stupid.... I mean playing barefoot to avoid punishment? now I will have to face the long evil punishment from arthritis during my old age. Maybe it is a nice trade for a memorable childhood...well I'll find out.
Anyways, my father only wanted to see us reading, education was very important and highly emphasized in our house. Could you believe we had the biggest colored TV in the neighborhood, because of this we were the envy of all the kids. But little did the neighborhood kids know that we were never allowed to turn it on. It came on everyday at 9 pm (which was our bed time and also news time) and it was off by dawn when we woke up. When we were left at home by ourselves, the first thing Daddy did when he walked into the house is to feel the temperature of the TV. We were in trouble if it were warm. Phew! I hated trouble so I never messed with the stupid thing, it wasn't worth the trouble. I rather wait till Sunday, when mommy will let all of the neighborhood children into the house to watch "Tales by Moonlight." Mummy was so kool she would let one of us turn the TV to make it appear to our friends like we do it on a routine basis. 'Tales by Moonlight' came on when popsy was at one of his weekend meetings.
When Daddy returned you had two options, you were either napping or reading a book, and if you were reading a book, you better be at a page that you have mastered well, because if he questions you on that page and you slightly stutter, your evening was ruined.
The only thing we appreciated Daddy's strictness for was the bible and church. So at the age of 2, was catechism for everyone, now that means you repeated catechism for several years until you mastered your faith, and also since no one is going to allow a 4 yr old to receive communion. At the age of 4, upon return from church, we all went down on both knees and you are to go into Daddy and Mummy's room in private and explain the preachings at church. Daddy went to the early service so he knew what the message was from church. As long as you were able to tell him, you were free from all punishments.
Boy! I remembered when I turned 4 and forgot that I was now initiated into this Sunday ritual, and acted like my normal self, running around the church with the other children, even spending my collection money on sweets. Oh boy, I came home that day and ran past everyone like, u know a regular 4 year old until Daddy called me back and asked how old are you? and I remembered wishing that the ground will open and swallow me, how could I have forgotten that I turned 4 the day prior. I blamed the cake. I started by saying For God so loved the world .... but my father knew right away that I had no clue. After that Sunday, and oh ... well since that very day, I was always attentive to the word of God. Though, I no longer have that fear that Daddy has heard the message, I just now have the desire to hear the word of God. :)
Now we look back and laugh, did he really think he could stop us from having fun...I think we drove him crazy, we love to draw and perform, we all played soccer till college, we danced all through and still love to dance, we love music oh.. and we appreciate all kinds of instruments and we also love praising God.
All kinds of music (and not this one in particular) and dance equals freedom for me and my siblings because we did it when my father was not around. Just like Willow Smith said in her interview that 'Whip my Hair' means "to be free." I wished my parents allowed us the freedom she has, I don't think we would have recorded a song, but maybe we would have learnt a thing or two about instruments.
Thank God my husband is nothing like my father in these aspect.
I am impressed and envy this chick (and not particularly because of the song), Willow Smith, especially since my father did not allow any artistic talent in our home. My father had this communist style when it came to raising his children. The bottom line was that he gave birth to us and so dictated everything that we did ... I mean everything; i.e. we had schedules growing up and we had to follow it closely (annoyingly there was more reading time than recess); we all had to come first place in class and so on.
I mean when Echeazu's kids came second place in school, people cried for us, because they knew we would be in trouble when we got home. We didn't play in school during recess because Daddy was Chiarman of the school board and our uniforms had to be as clean as it was when we left for school. Many a times, I got into trouble for my smart comments, I wondered why soap was invented if as kids we had to keep our uniforms so clean. Beats me now still
Anyways, we were not allowed to play football (soccer), we played tennis instead, since it was more modern. Actually, I think it was because it was one of the alternative sports featured in some of the western channels from our satellite dish.
Who raises their kids to be snobs? Oh and how dare we speak incorrect english, or vernacular, or pigin english (street English) or Igbo (our native tongue) we had to only speak English so that everyone knew that his money was well spent in our private school education.
We were smart kids though lol, we did everything behind his back. Oh I remember we used to wear double clothing to school (in the 104 -degree-weather of Nigeria) just so that we could take off our school uniforms after school and play ball, that way our uniforms would still be clean and momcy and popcy wouldn't find out. As if that wasn't enough, we used to play barefoot, so that our socks will not be dirty and for fear that our sandals may break and we had to explain how it happened. Looking back now, we were so stupid.... I mean playing barefoot to avoid punishment? now I will have to face the long evil punishment from arthritis during my old age. Maybe it is a nice trade for a memorable childhood...well I'll find out.
Anyways, my father only wanted to see us reading, education was very important and highly emphasized in our house. Could you believe we had the biggest colored TV in the neighborhood, because of this we were the envy of all the kids. But little did the neighborhood kids know that we were never allowed to turn it on. It came on everyday at 9 pm (which was our bed time and also news time) and it was off by dawn when we woke up. When we were left at home by ourselves, the first thing Daddy did when he walked into the house is to feel the temperature of the TV. We were in trouble if it were warm. Phew! I hated trouble so I never messed with the stupid thing, it wasn't worth the trouble. I rather wait till Sunday, when mommy will let all of the neighborhood children into the house to watch "Tales by Moonlight." Mummy was so kool she would let one of us turn the TV to make it appear to our friends like we do it on a routine basis. 'Tales by Moonlight' came on when popsy was at one of his weekend meetings.
When Daddy returned you had two options, you were either napping or reading a book, and if you were reading a book, you better be at a page that you have mastered well, because if he questions you on that page and you slightly stutter, your evening was ruined.
The only thing we appreciated Daddy's strictness for was the bible and church. So at the age of 2, was catechism for everyone, now that means you repeated catechism for several years until you mastered your faith, and also since no one is going to allow a 4 yr old to receive communion. At the age of 4, upon return from church, we all went down on both knees and you are to go into Daddy and Mummy's room in private and explain the preachings at church. Daddy went to the early service so he knew what the message was from church. As long as you were able to tell him, you were free from all punishments.
Boy! I remembered when I turned 4 and forgot that I was now initiated into this Sunday ritual, and acted like my normal self, running around the church with the other children, even spending my collection money on sweets. Oh boy, I came home that day and ran past everyone like, u know a regular 4 year old until Daddy called me back and asked how old are you? and I remembered wishing that the ground will open and swallow me, how could I have forgotten that I turned 4 the day prior. I blamed the cake. I started by saying For God so loved the world .... but my father knew right away that I had no clue. After that Sunday, and oh ... well since that very day, I was always attentive to the word of God. Though, I no longer have that fear that Daddy has heard the message, I just now have the desire to hear the word of God. :)
Now we look back and laugh, did he really think he could stop us from having fun...I think we drove him crazy, we love to draw and perform, we all played soccer till college, we danced all through and still love to dance, we love music oh.. and we appreciate all kinds of instruments and we also love praising God.
All kinds of music (and not this one in particular) and dance equals freedom for me and my siblings because we did it when my father was not around. Just like Willow Smith said in her interview that 'Whip my Hair' means "to be free." I wished my parents allowed us the freedom she has, I don't think we would have recorded a song, but maybe we would have learnt a thing or two about instruments.
Thank God my husband is nothing like my father in these aspect.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
My Time in Nigeria
So I love medical mission trips, but this was not a medical mission, this was an international rotation. I chose my country, since it was exactly where my inspirations begun and my country is the only reason I haven't given up. I left my country at a tender age of 14 years old and decided that I wanted to see what I was up against. I spent one month in Obstetrics at Nnamdi Azikiwe University Teaching Hospital in Nnewi and what an amazing time. I stayed with one of my best friends (aka my mother-in-law) we can talk about anything. Jude's younger brother, Bede drove me to work almost every day (40 minutes), he also is a great person to chat with. Very out going, funny and intelligent. Then I met even more great people at work everyday. My call buddy, Udegbunam (I had 3 out of 8 calls with him); silly Masquerade, who knows how to make me laugh; Zeb is quite a character and is prepared to wiggle his way out of anything; then there is Dr. Okor who is always ready to fire with questions, hardworking and hillarious- he made me laugh everyday; then there is Dr. Ezebialu, very easy to talk to and very nice; then there is Ugboaja, their Chief resident, he is interesting and he was a good body guard, lol, I got to do a lot more while he was around, because he had so much confidence in me, we learned a ton of surgical skills from each other; then there is Ugboke who is hillarious though I don't always understand what he is saying ... then the House Officers, Ogechi and Nneka, who let me shower at their houses, very smart, and so on. I can't mention everyone's name but I had a great experience. Met the great profeessors and the consultants.
I learned a lot about the differences in culture, it was something to get used to. The men had so much power over their wives and it was understood and acceptable to the women. The women were beaten while giving birth, it was understood that it motivated them to push harder. Keep in mind that they were unblocked and the docs were men. The midwives would scold them but not beat them, well at least I didn't see anyone. The sad thing is patient look for docs that hit, the harder you hit, the more patient's you'll get. They are convinced that it magically causes quicker delivery and less episiotomies. This was one example of them Nigeria involving in terms of the value of women. Despite this anoying part, Nigeria is doing a great job, they've done great with the few things they have, very intelligent and get the jobs done. I love my country but I still wish I could convince them to change a lot of things. The above picture is me performing a c-section on a woman with twin gestation. ....I cannot tell you everything, I would have blogged more but there was no internet. I will be giving a presentation on this in a few weeks....with my feministic self I could not wait to come home to my prince, who knows how to value his wife. I missed him everyday, he knows how to brighten my day and yes my audience I am more in love with him than I was the day we got married. He still makes my heart skip a beat; this year thought us something that we are frustrated with living apart and we want residency to end soon so that we don't have to spend thousands just to see each other. Reunited with my boo.
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