Memory of Another Ironic Episode in my Life.

In OAKLAND, Calif; a judge on Friday ordered a California hospital to keep a girl declared brain dead on life support following what was supposed to be a routine tonsillectomy.

It takes a sad piece of news such as this one above to bring back the memory of another ironic episode in my life.

In 1993, I went for a routine tonsillectomy at Eko Hospital (one of the very best in Nigeria of that time) and my doctor was a well-known, overseas-trained and highly experienced  ENT specialist.

I was taken into the operating room precisely at 7AM. A couple of hours later, a doctor walked into the waiting room to talk to my wife. Citing some excuses laden with technical jargons, he calmly persuaded her to return home.

Already paranoid, my wife was back in the hospital at about noon. And, again, she was given the same technical jargons and persuaded to leave. This time, she wondered why a surgery would take so long and when would it be the best time to return. She was told to come back late in the night. Now, the no-nonsense lady started to scream at everyone in sight as she demanded for explanations. Finally, my doctor came out of the operating room to give some explanation about some “minor” complications that required them to keep me under close observation. According to my wife, the man was so calm and calculated that he did not betray the fact that they had actually “lost me” and were frantically trying to see if they could “bring me back”.

The fact of the matter was that, shortly after cutting off the offensive tonsil, I suddenly sat up in bed and looked around the place. Fortunately for me, the doctor was smart and fast enough to withdraw the extremely sharp scalpel from my throat. But as I went on to ask “where am I?” a fountain of blood gushed out of my mouth, spraying and drenching the doctors and nurses.    

Quickly, my doctor ordered the others to push me back down onto the bed while the anesthesiologist gave another dosage of anaesthesia.

Alas, it was too much and I went into cardiac arrest!

The poor doctor (anesthesiologist) later defended herself (during an investigation set up by the hospital) that the initial dosage of anaesthesia she gave me was appropriate. It was based on my responses to the pre-operation interview questions. And the extra dosage was applied based on a totally unexpected emergency.

It was a few minutes past 12 AM (midnight of the following day) that I finally “came back” and was returned to my room. And upon my full regain of consciousness at about 1 AM, my wife and some family friends (who had been waiting anxiously in the waiting room) were ushered into my room.

As I was ordered not to talk, I promptly gestured (with my hands) at my wife and the friends to go home while indicating to them that it was too late in the night for them to be in the hospital. In the meantime, I will never forget the expression on my wife’s face. It was one of tearful relief, appreciation and anger, all at the same time.