Hey… It’s Tayo sharing his story with us again! Did you miss episodes 1 and 2? Here they are:
Let’s get to today’s story already…😀
“Medical Student, present your patient“, said the managing Consultant.
“I present Mr Tayo Aregbesola, a 29year old unemployed Christian who resides at…” the Medical student started only to be interrupted sharply by the Consultant.
“Can you go straight to the point, we don’t have much time and we still have other patients”
“Okay sir. Mr Tayo was involved in a road traffic accident one week ago and has since then been crying inconsolably. He has no significant physical findings other than his accident wounds which have been properly handled by the orthopedics department.”
The dissatisfaction was clearly written over the Consultant’s face. He asked angrily “So what is be doing here in Psychiatry? What is your diagnosis, Medical Student?”
“Sir.. Eehhmmm.. I’m thinking Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, Sir…to rule out Conversion disorder”
The Consultant then hissed “Well… I’d come back to you later, let me talk to Mr Tayo. You obviously didn’t take a good history from this patient” he said as he turned to me.
Dr Badmus was exceptionally empathetic while listening to my story. He was an unusual person though. His accent was purely Nigerian, what you would call Yoruba accent in fact. But he was Caucasian by looks. I later learnt that he was a hybrid who preferred to practice Medicine in Nigeria despite his British roots. He seemed to be the only one that had believed me so far.
Everyone thought I was crazy. Even the medical student who came to ask me questions thought I was making up the rape story. I didn’t blame him, anyways. I had threatened to kill myself twice and attempted it once while at the orthopedics ward, so they had to transfer me to the psychiatric ward. It was an awkward place to be. Full of awkward people. You could tell their conditions just by looking at them. One was a drug addict, he always walked round the ward at night singing all sorts of obscenities. The other one was clearly depressed, never talking to anybody. If anyone ever told me two months back that I would be admitted to the this place , I would never have believed it.
Dr Badmus said to his junior doctor after our conversation “Work Mr Tayo up for discharge. He has full insight into his problems and has no business staying on the ward. He can always see us on outpatient basis“. He then turned to me “Tee Man, we would find her and make her pay, deal?“. “Deal!!!” I replied.
The ward nurse called Jenny on my phone. Even though she didn’t believe me initially, she still came to pick me up after I was discharged from the hospital. I guess she just knew that something wasn’t right and was willing to help me figure it out. It was a long silence as she drove me home.
“I’m so sorry for everything, Jenny” I said as I stepped out of the car. To my surprise, Jenny turned off her car engine and asked me “Can I come in?”
We spoke for close to three hours that evening before she left. I told her funny stories about my “friends” from the psych ward. I then asked stylishly if she still had that video on her phone. Thankfully, Jenny had deleted the video from her phone, but unfortunately so too. That was the only evidence I might have had if I were to make a case against Madam Sylvia in court. Jenny scoffed at me “Tayo, you’re just recovering. Leave the court matter for now. Get well fast and guess what…?”
Jenny was such a sweet angel. She had helped submit my CV and a job application to her uncle whose firm needed an accountant. The interview was the following week and all I needed to do was be in good shape for it. But despite the good news Jenny had brought, I just couldn’t get it off my mind that Madam Sylvia was going to go scot free. I thanked Jenny for all her support and gave her a goodbye kiss on the forehead as I saw her off to the door. I limped back to the bed, still in mild pain from my leg wound as my phone rang.
“Hello, is that Mr Tayo Aregbesola? This is Dr Badmus and I think we might have a case against your former boss”
To be continued…
…writing stories since Adam and Eve