Tag Archives: fool

Champion the Truth

If you don’t live in the UK, you may have missed the junior doctor contract row that has been brewing for a few years but has escalated over the last couple of months. If you live in the UK and rely on major media outlets to keep you informed, you may think the dispute is about junior doctors asking for more money. I would suggest you turn to social media for more accurate information from doctors, other NHS staff and more importantly their families. Long and short of it is that the dispute is about our Government deciding we junior doctors need to work longer hours whilst our pay is cut and refusing to do the simple arithmetic that would show that if you want more junior doctors working around the clock, you need to recruit more of them because we are already working long hours and we absolutely will not do me as it would put our lives and the lives of patients that we hold so importantly at risk. I mean, how is it fair that the Government has voted to pay its MPs more and they can still claim vast amounts on expenses yet the very same Government says we have no money in the coffers to pay for more junior doctors? Isn’t that ridiculous???

I digress, please read up on Facebook, twitter and blogs writing on the issue. Plenty of truth out there is you care. The baseline is that at least half of the junior doctors who have voiced their opinions have stated either that they have made up their minds to quit the NHS or are at the very least, looking into alternate careers or going abroad. The simple truth is we as a group of junior doctors think the bottom line is that the Tories have vested interest to tear down the NHS and privatise our healthcare and hence line their pockets. There is also strong evidence out there that the current fool we call our Health Secretary has been a champion of NHS privatisation for many years and probably owns share in private health insurance conglomerates like Virgin Health.

This blog is actually about the one good thing that has come from this attack on junior doctors. We now have an online Facebook forum called Junior Doctors Forum which is by invitation only. It has 63,000 members and counting. Not all of them are junior doctors. We have consultants, medical students, nurses, midwives, paramedics and other allied healthcare professionals plus a few lawyers, journalists and even politicians about the forum. What I want to do is big up the passion of those on the forum and champion them sticking to their guns and being honest about how they feel and what this is doing to us as a group. Never has there been so much unity within the profession. Medicine is a very hierarchical and competitive profession and although we all start as one, we generally sub-divide as we become more senior and choose specialisation programmes. Our world then shrinks even further so all we know is related to the one field eventually. Our only contact with the outside specialities is if they are part of the multi-disciplinary team that we need to make sure each patient’s care is optimal with the inclusion of all relevant expertise.

So it is all good news though? No. Unfortunately when you get 63,000 opinionated voices with the top 1% in terms of IQ and ability to rationalise, debate and analyse, you get varying opinions. I am all for freedom of speech and embracing our differences. However, as with all other aspects of life, some are excessively worried about how other people interpret our opinions. An article was published based around a discussion we had on the forum and people are getting all uppity about all coming across professional and un-emotional. Why? If this was about professionalism only, we would all continue our stony silence whilst we get attacked as we give our all for the greater good. This time, we have stood up and shouted NO because not only have they attacked us (we have thick skin because of the nature of being medics who take enormous responsibilities day in, day out) but they are threatening the very fabric of the health of our nation. Their proposals are not only ensuring that many of us want to leave because we choose life and living than putting ourselves in danger from physical and mental exhaustion, they are also meaning that we are now less willing to carry on doing extra unpaid hours for no thanks.

The NHS has been running on the goodwill of its junior doctors for a very long time and things have been in a steady decline for the past decade yet this is the first year that doctors have threatened to strike. We love the NHS and have been carrying its weight to the detriment of our mental, physical and psychosocial health for far too long. This is the straw that will break the camel’s veritable back. It is because we are passionate that we are fighting the proposed changes which may start with junior doctors but we all know will extend to the rest of the hardworking staff the NHS is lucky to have as its employees. How then can anyone ask that we lie about how angry and betrayed we feel? How upset we are that we are being made to reconsider our futures? Whether we can afford to have children and continue to be there for our patients? How the lies of Hunt et al are demoralising us? How we don’t feel it is worth it anymore to carry on in the NHS when all we get for breaking our backs for a pittance (£11/hr 6 years after graduating for me compared to a plumber who can earn up to £50/hr) is abuse and an Etonian ignoramus vilifying us for caring.

Well, I am here to say that no. I will not be unemotional. If I didn’t care for the NHS, I would have quit after my first foundation year when I became a fully licenced medical practitioner. If all I care for was the money, I would be abroad today with a private clinic, dictating my hours and pay. If I didn’t care, I would not be attending protests and spending what little I have left over after my living expenses and medicolegal expenses on supportive merchandise. I care and I am not afraid to show it.

Hunt is only the face of the Tory campaign to break the NHS and leave privatisation as its only viable option. The Tory Government is libellous, dishonest, spineless and un-democratic. If the general public continues to buy the bullshit the Government is peddling, it will be the British public who will pay the price in the next few years. So unless you are all dying with something that will kill you with certainty in the next couple of years, wake up and realise facts. Fact is the NHS as we know it will be no more unless the whole of the British public fights this. Just google how much it’d cost you to pay for your health insurance in the US and imagine the UK going the same. Doctors are in hot demand the world over. We can and will be forced to leave the UK and the NHS is this horror continues and we will be fine. I assure you. So the fact that I am getting emotional is not because I am a greedy lazy overpaid privileged posh kid as Hunt and co would have you believe. It is because I care and I am not afraid to show it. Fact!

Neglect Has A Lasting Legacy

I was 5 years old when my sister and I went on a road trip with Baba, our Grandad, up North in Nigeria. It was not normal for just the two of us to go with him. There was usually my grandma too or maybe my mama. However, this time we got to go solo with him. I suspect it is because we begged and it was the holidays and my mother was busy at work with no better plans to entertain us. Whatever the case, we got to go and I remember my sister and I getting bored quite quickly (probably an hour into the 6.5 hour journey). Plus my grandad had taken to listening to boring traditional Hausa music (Mamman Shata and the like). So we sang every nursery rhyme and Disney song we knew. We sang for hours until our throats were sore. Must have driven my grandad and the driver mad but they bore with us.

When we got to the town we were staying the night in, my grandad took us straight to my ‘aunt’s’ home. I say ‘aunt’ because this is not my mother’s sister, my favourite aunty in the whole world aunty Bilky. No, this is someone who grew up with my mum and her siblings and is therefore considered a ‘sister’. I will call this aunty ‘Auntie’ henceforth for easy reference. Now, we had spent quite a few holidays with Auntie and her many daughters in the past so we knew them well enough and were quite happy to be taken to hers. One of her daughters is very close in age to my sister and the youngest was a year older than I was but we usually got on pretty well. I couldn’t tell you if there were any special circumstances at the time we visited but I think not because we would have known. My mama was always upfront if anything major was going on especially if she was going to let us visit. Anyway, out of the car we tumbled, tired and excited. It was well after lunch but not dinner time yet but we were already feeling the first pangs of hunger having had a late breakfast on the road but not stopped for lunch. We were all shown into a living room in their sprawling home and someone showed us to the ‘bedroom’. I use the term ‘bedroom’ loosely because although the large room had beds (I think it was 3 single beds), most of it was clearly a dumping ground for dirty laundry and other clutter and it looked like no one had slept in there for a long time. My grandad left whilst we checked out our lodgings.

My sister and I waited for what seemed like ages for someone to come and tell us what to do with all the mess if we were actually going to be staying in that room. We also waited in vain for someone to offer us a drink or give us a snack. Nothing happened so we eventually picked one bed and cleared it and the area around it. We lay on the bed listening to the noises of muted conversation until all we could hear was our tummies rumbling. The sun began to set and we were soon left in darkness. One of us hunted for the light switch and we resumed our waiting game. We might have dozed off or maybe just lay around in a hungry tired trance but eventually I remember saying to my sister that I needed something to drink. That spurred her into action and she led me hesitantly out of the room and we wandered down the corridors of the seemingly empty house, most of the lights off. We found a kitchen but our hunt turned up nothing to eat. We had some water and sadly found our way back to the bedroom and eventually slept on empty stomachs.

We awoke to the sound of voices outside, going about their morning chores. We could smell breakfast frying…I am not sure now what it was (because we didn’t get any) whether it was fried yam, potatoes or bean cakes (kosei) but the smell was right under our noses and we were so famished we looked at each other in hope. No one came to get us and being nice Fulani girls, we stayed put. I remember asking my sister if she thought they had forgotten we were there. ‘How is that possible?’ She replied so we waited and waited. We waited some more as all the noise died down and the house fell silent again. Had they all gone out without so much as a word to us? Were we home alone in this house we didn’t know, in a town we had maybe visited a couple of times before? We finally ventured out and explored the section of the house we were in. No one was there. We returned to the kitchen, probably assuming that they might have saved us some breakfast. We found evidence of breakfast in the dirty dishes in the sink but not a bite left for us.

At this stage, I thought I was going to die of hunger. It was getting close to 24 hours since we had breakfast on the road with Baba and there was no adult to be seen. We went back to the room and my sister rummaged desperately in the backpack we had brought with us. ‘Look’ she cried excitedly after searching for a while. She brandished a N5 note. N5 (five naira) in those days (around 1990) was actually worth something. We could certainly have breakfast on the street with that. Remember this was a town we were not very familiar with so it was with trepidation that we ventured out of Auntie’s house and into the busy street. Thankfully there was no one out to cause mischief and we were left alone. We followed the smell of kosei to a street corner nearby and found a lady frying the delicious bean cakes seated on a stool by the fire over which she was frying. We gave her the N5 and asked for kosei. ‘All of it?’ she asked and we nodded hungrily. She scooped the freshly fried kosei out into the traditional newspaper wrap, sprinkled on a generous helping of the chilli powder that comes with it and handed it to us. We walked a few metres away before we gave in to the hunger in our bellies and we tucked in. After a few mouthfuls, we felt good enough to continue walking and we ate as we walked back to the house. The portion was decent and we gobbled it all up within minutes. Finally satiated, we chucked the paper in the bin and went in to have a quick wash and get dressed.

When my grandad came for us around lunchtime, we were happy again. Still left to our own devices but happy because my sister had fed us. We looked clean and my grandad was none the wiser. Lunch was served with my grandad so of course we got fed. I remember picking at the food because I was still stuffed from our late breakfast and also because I was so disappointed my Auntie had been so mean. But we said nothing. Just very happily jumped back into the car for the 3 hour trip to Kaduna where we knew we would be treated by my aunty Nafisa like princesses. I was not disappointed!

For many years after that, I did not forget or forgive that episode. The daughters I didn’t blame so much because half of them were young like us. But the 2 older girls were certainly old enough to know that young children visiting should at the very least be given a drink and food. Auntie should certainly have known better. I made up my mind that she was no longer my auntie but only my sister knew this for the next decade or so. I found every excuse not to go back there and mostly, I didn’t.

The next time I went was unavoidable. My mama and I were on the way to Kaduna and from there were to catch a flight back to Lagos where I went to boarding school. I wasn’t really given a choice of itinerary because she wanted to say hi to her ‘sister’. I knew anyway that I would be treated well because my mama was there but the hypocrisy grated. I clenched my teeth and said not a word. The visit was ok-ish. It turned out her daughter was getting married and we had been invited but my mother neglected to mention it. I had nothing to wear for any occasion as I was on my way back to boarding school and being a teenager, it mattered to me. Bearing that in mind, the youngest daughter and her cousin/half-sister on night 2 were in the same room as I was but I was lying on the bed, my head buried in a book as I was usually found in those days. They were whispering loudly about the pre-wedding party they were going to the next night and how much fun it was going to be etc. Being close in age to them, I would have expected them to have the courtesy either to invite me or not to talk about it in front of me. They did not have the courtesy to extend an invitation to me. Party night came and they snuck out when it was time despite being chummy with me all day. What sort of a fool did they think I was? The morning after, they were giggling over events at the party but would fall silent if I walked in a room or turned in their general direction. What grated wasn’t that I didn’t go because to be honest, I wasn’t one for parties at that age and I certainly did not have anything to wear. What sucked was their meanness of spirit and being treated like a fool.

Since that visit, I have stayed well away from most of that family. Although I have forgiven them their neglect and meanness, I doubt I will ever forget. That amongst other things are major character flaws I really wish not to be associated with. I have not considered Auntie my aunty for very many years to my mama’s consternation. I have since told my mama about that episode and several other incidents not talked about in this blog. I know she was dismayed and even sad but perhaps a small part of her is hoping that me and my sister’s account of that incident is overly-dramatized as remembered by our young immature brains. Regardless, I sincerely believe that if we had been her actual nieces, she would not have treated us so carelessly when we were so young. And she would not have allowed that mean spirit to rub off on her daughters.

When I think of her, I think of two quotes:

“When someone would mistreat, misinform, misuse, misguide, mishandle, mislead… or any other “mis”… to others, they’re obviously missing something from their lives.”
― Donald L. HicksLook into the stillness

“I know it’s painful growing,
I bet the changes was painful too.
But nothing is as painful as being somewhere you don’t belong.
Obviously.”
― Touaxia Vang

When You Argue with a Fool

Have you ever had an argument that goes round and round in circles, never-ending with no point to be made? Where the person you are arguing with seems to be in a monologue? Where their comebacks are so off the mark that it feels like you are in a different time-zone? Where hitting your head hard against a concrete wall might be more productive?

I have and it used to annoy me so much that I’d get really upset and want to stamp my feet. And I used to try and reason with them and try to get them to see that the argument was entirely useless and was going nowhere. Now that I am older and wiser and my fuse less short, I deal with it in one of 2 ways. Either I say ‘look this argument is going nowhere and I don’t have the time for this’ or I just say ‘we will have to agree to disagree’.

I will confess something. I copied that 2nd response off somebody older who I admired when I was teenager. I remember the first time someone used it on me and back then, I couldn’t handle the maturity of it. Back then I thought everything was black or white. I thought every argument had to end with a winner and a loser. Now I know that there are many shades of grey in between (no, not 50 shades child!). Knowing that the world isn’t so binary makes arguments less upsetting for me.

I can now acknowledge what is fact for me is not necessarily fact for another because we are all shaped by different factors. We are shaped by our genes, our environment, our family, our friends, the media, our education, our beliefs, our religion, our culture and much more. Most important of the factors that shape how we view the world is our experiences. Hence, some of the things I would have argued successfully so passionately for 10 years ago, I am not so sure now are as I argued. Yes I enjoy a good debate but I am the sort that will not be dragged into an argument unless I have strong views on the subject and I have very solid reasons to back up my views. Fact is, I do not back away from an argument and I am often successful in getting my point accepted or at the very least acknowledged by my debating partner. But I choose what I will be sucked in by. And more importantly by who.

Which brings me neatly to the quote I have used as inspiration for this blog…‘don’t argue with fools, people passing by won’t be able to tell who is who’. It is my belief that arguing with someone who you know is arguing for all the wrong reasons is a complete waste of your life. This wrong reason might be that the arguer loves the sound of their voice and they are using you as a sounding board. Or they want to impose their beliefs on you because they do not think yours are important enough. Or they say things they don’t believe in order to shock or upset or entertain the passers-by. Or they want to score points. Or they are angry or upset or stressed about something or over someone and they want to take it out on a scapegoat. Or they are arguing for the sake of it, not because they believe in what they are trying to convince you is true.

These days, with my adult hat on if I spot the arguer with these wrong reasons and they ask an opinion so they can start a diatribe, I simply say: ‘oh good question but I am afraid I don’t know much about that. I’ll pass.’ Or ‘how about you tell me what you think’ or ‘I would be lying if I said I care about that matter’. Then I listen until my patience runs out and I find an excuse to not be in the same space anymore.

If it is a proper friend and they pick an argument over the littlest thing, I will usually get worried and ask if they are okay…really ok or if there is something they need to get off their chest? You know the saying ‘when you ask a woman what’s wrong and she says it’s nothing…’ Well fact is, when your sister/mother/husband/friend who you usually get on with great starts to conjure up arguments from the most innocuous conversation, then they are asking for help. Something is up and they want permission to spill. They want you to listen. So please, instead of entering into a slanging match, give them a hug and invite them to tell you what’s really bothering them. Chances are that they do not really think George Bush was a good president or Apartheid wasn’t all that bad.