Posts Tagged ‘police’

AN ACCIDENT ON SATURDAY


Our hospital is a big tertiary centre located next to a busy major road. The road links two

major commercial towns and serves as an indispensible trade route; all forms of vehicles ply the road twenty fours every day. Commercial and private vehicles of all shapes and sizes race continually at speed the envy of formula one drivers. Expectedly, many end up at our hospital with different forms of road traffic injuries and we had a special trauma dedicated to catering for victims of these road mishaps. However, these accidents have seasons; usually weekdays and during the nights. Not weekends, almost never weekends.

Last Saturday, I was on call in the afternoon when I heard footsteps and the familiar sounds of confusion, the sounds of human anxiety rushing into the emergency room. I knew the porters would have rushed to meet the incoming party with trolleys and the nurses would soon start calling for the doctor. I thought in my head, maybe a drunken brawl, maybe a dying diabetic or an incompliant hypertensive but not an accident – not weekends. I looked up and saw policemen, about eight of them in full fatigues, gun totting, obviously enraged and  the smell of nicotine and ganja pervaded the room immediately; implausible diffusion. Right behind them was a ninth one, on the trolley, bruised and in pain. Finally, the unbelievable, an accident on Saturday, a different kind from the look of things. We got to work; the policeman had sustained a fracture to the right leg and minor injuries to other parts of the body. He had been knocked down by a private vehicle, a lone driver who did not want to stop at the checkpoint. While we were attending to their colleague, the other policemen were busy shouting orders into their radios and cell phones, dictating the plate number and describing the vehicle of the runaway driver. They turned on the frenzy in the room, cursing and stamping their feet, swearing in turns – they will surely kill the runaway driver once they find him.

Thirty minutes later, I heard sounds again, this time the sounds of human anguish. The incoming party was led by policemen again equal in description to the ones that came in earlier. On the trolley behind them was the man in anguish, middle aged, bruised and bloodied – the runaway driver. He had been beaten and battered, he was still being beaten on the trolley. As he was being wheeled in, the first set of policemen were having a go at him with limbs and guns. The new set of policemen also became angrier at the site of their colleague with his broken leg.

“Please, please can everybody wait outside?” I had to step in and exercise my authority.

“Doctor, Doctor please wait, let me break his head, let me break his own leg too” they kept trying to increase my workload! While some were moving out, others were still inflicting pain on the runaway driver.

Eventually, they moved out but continued the frenzied phone calls which brought new sets of policemen to the emergency room at five minute intervals. With every new set comes new pain and more injury for the runaway driver. It was becoming uncontrollable; the nurses started asking me for a solution. I was confused, I should call the police, but they were already all over the place trying to kill my patient.

Then, the runaway driver started to convulse; great jerky motions shaking his entire body fiercely. Suddenly, there was increased activity in the room, we, the hospital staff rushed to his side trying to control the convulsions, the policemen in the room ran out instantly probably out of fear. Outside, they resumed more charged phone calls. They started holding a meeting, discussing and arguing at the same time, they seemed to be in disagreement over something and later, an agreement. After some minutes, four of them came into the room; obviously representatives from the consensus of the meeting.

“Doctor, we want to take our friend” the spokesman, a burly and intimidating figure told me.

“Which one?”

“That bastard no be our friend, na you no allow us kill am. Na the policeman we dey talk.” I think pidgin is his language for expressing anger.

“Where are you taking him to with a fracture, his X-rays just got in. He will need a cast and maybe surgery.” I was trying to explain the situation to them.

“Doctor, no worry. We go take am.” He insisted. “Abeg, come write everything wey you wan write. We dey go.”

While I was trying to stand my ground, I was aware of the amount of guns on the premises, the urgency of the assembled men in uniforms and the lingering smell of stimulants.

I went to the injured policeman and asked him “your friends want to take you away, do you agree?”

“Yes doctor, please release me quickly.”

“You will sign that you discharged yourself against medical advice”

“Doctor, bring the book quickly, abeg. Please.”

While we were still discussing, the runaway driver convulsed again. This time, noisier and more violent; spilling frothy saliva from his mouth. We rushed to him again, I was about to sedate him when I saw him wink.

“Did I see him wink?” I asked myself. When people convulse, they don’t wink!

I withheld my needle, he stopped spontaneously. Meanwhile, the agitation on the part of the policemen had doubled; they had already started wheeling their injured colleague outside. I had to run after them to sign the discharge against medical advice form. They disappeared in a jiffy making screeching sounds with their departing vehicles. Peace returned to the hospital, we all got a moment of respite.

Five minutes after they left, the runaway driver sat up on his bed and coughed, the type of cough that says “I’m here.” He caught our attention and we all went to his bedside.

“Where did you learn to convulse like that?” I asked him.

“Doctor, I had to do something o. If not those people for kill me.” We all busted into laughter, he had truly saved himself from the helpless situation.

Everybody congratulated him for a job well done; it seemed more like we were congratulating him for hitting the policeman than for the convulsions. We gathered round and listened to his story, nobody condemned him for the terrible thing he had done. He did what we all wanted to do but have all been too civilised and well behaved to do. At that moment, by my patient’s bedside with the nurses and porters, everybody shared their different experiences of police brutality. We were bonded in the common hatred of the lawless who have become the law.

Finally, an accident on Saturday; a different kind though.

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