M.B; B.S: Poetic Journey Of A Young Doctor

M.B; B.S

Junior's phobia for air and water sends a river of tears off mother's cheeks
Primi mum's joy cannot be contained as baby is placed to breast in thirty minutes
Fever, cough, night sweats and weight loss as scrofula consumes swiftly but slowly.

First the complaints, then stories, then IPPA down to the scopes.
From presentations to score-board justice.
High-pitched screams of ill-defined origins from haughty instructors.
Words of soft intensity, timbre, and texture from self-effacing tutors.

Visible smell of formalin oozing from cadaveric orifices
Palpable stench from feces mixed with liquor
Odious odors from rotten soon-to-be-severed feet
Odoriferous drugs, disinfectants, and sterilizers.

Stress matures to puberty and stays real, relapsing and remitting
Adrenalin surges and erratic dopamine superfluous on weeks of reckoning
Pains from behind the eyeballs competing with aches from within the head
Numb feet after sessions of long standing for procedures in theatres of a sort of art
   
Hunger pangs as internal alarm systems to take some in 
Noodles and flour shuffled one to two times a day
Bean cakes as meat to bread wrapped in transparent bags under the tree
Dry lips, tongue and feeble yet hypertrophied salivary glands

The final race ran and final hurdles trounced
The final laps concluded and wand handed over
A loud silence possessing and dominating the air
As the background noise is effaced by the seconds

Now at the crossroads
Where much has been done but nothing said

Finally, a path from an awakening
A path of unknown significance and conflicting directions
Narrow and flanked on either side by nothingness, emptiness and a palpable void
The weak sun, flickering over the dry and stiff earth

Somewhere within the confusion, a door devoid of handles
No locks, inscriptions, instructions nor directions
Blank door leads on and gives way to a dimly lit room
Within the room is a vacuum of thin air

No chairs, insects nor child with tetanus
But for a bride in the form of a mutilated note placed broad-spectrum on the ground
On the note, an awaited combination of four letters of golden quality and equal intensity in sacred order
Letters veiled like a bride, adorned with gems and made ready to be loved

Tested by time, with many stories untold as age and life unfold
In this order it came as Melancholy, then the Blues, then the Beatitudes and finally the Solace
A call to be Bachelor of Medicine, a call to be Bachelor of Surgery
A grand calling to be a groom to both brides in Holy Polygamy


By Chijioke Chijindu