An Encounter with a Ugandan "Doctor"

July 18, 2017, Kampala Uganda

 

Today I came face to face with the consequences of poor quality of education. We shall call this guy I encountered a doctor. To us lay men, anyone with a white coat, pair of glasses and stethoscopes hanging in front is a doctor. But the lady who took my details told me the guy is a general physician. Never mind. So I walk into his space. White coat, glasses, stethoscopes and seated behind a cool looking desk. He is young. That does not exactly give me confidence but what the heck, I will try him. What brings you here? He asks. Friendly and confident. That I like.

 

I thrust my index finger in front of him. This. I say. He looks at it. It reminds you of a She goat pregnant with twins. Why do the kids always seem to occupy one side of the stomach? But it's my finger we are talking about. It's throbbing. Feels like some malicious force is trying to find out how much you can stretch the human skin without bursting it.

 

What happened? He asks. It just started swelling on it's own. I reply. It's not nail fungal infection, this is bacterial. A nail is growing into your skin and must be surgically removed. I don't like what I am hearing. My nails look and feel fine. Nothing digging into my fresh. But what do I know? That was the doctor speaking. He continues. The surgery can't be done immediately. First we have to cut your finger open to release the puss. I am definitely not liking his train of thought. Finger throbs some more. The pain has to end I swear. I can't bear it any more. If doctor thinks it must be cut open, so be it.

 

The doctor goes out to call a nurse but he returns without her. Instead he has gloves, needles and other sharp things. And some vials. Small bottles with clear liquids. I don't like what I am looking at but what I am feeling is even worse. Doctor shows me to a bed and asks me to sit on it.

 

We have to numb your finger. We will inject all round the base of the finger. He pulls out a syringe, a needle and sucks some liquid out of one of the vials. Repeats process three times. Now I know. Three holes into my finger. This will hurt a little. He says. I roll my eyes. Euphemism per excellence. I know his type. I close my eyes. The pain is excruciating. This guy pushes the needle till it touches the bone. And he has two more to go. He drills. I scream with pain. I open my eyes. The base of my finger is like a sprinkler. Blood. More blood. And more blood. The guys wipes it away religiously. I am sorry he says. But that should numb you. No more pain. He flashes a sharp blade. Holds my finger and slices through. If the needle was excruciating, this is hell fire. I scream. I am sweating buckets. My heart is racing. I feel faint. My stomach feels warm in a nasty way. We have not reached the puss yet, the doctor insists. We have to slice deeper. He is the doctor and I want to be done with this hell once and for all. So I let him have another go. The searing pain throws my entire system into a spin. I sit up and push him away. Now I really feel faint. I try to sit. I can't. I lie on the bed as sweat runs down my entire body like a river. He panics. Out comes the stethoscope. Are you hypertensive he asks. Nkt. I don't answer him. Should he not have asked me that before starting to slice my finger? He feels my pulse. I let him. Then I slide off the bed and declare the procedure has to stop. He agrees. Gives me some antibiotics and pain killers. Come back when the finger starts throbbing real hard. He says. No way in hell, I whisper under my breadth. I pick my drugs and head back to my office. The swelling seems worse. The throbbing is insane. Back in the office I head straight into my private bathroom. Needle in hand. I examine my finger and note a yellow line above my finger nail. I prick it. Painless. but puss gushes out. Gentle squeeze and more come out. The relief is amazing. Like someone just withdrew a blazing hot knife  stuck into your flesh.  Am fascinated but flabbergasted. Who trained that doctor? True story..