Editor's Review

Then a siren blares downstairs at the emergency unit.

By Shem Onderi

Dressed in a white coat,
A stethoscope hanging from his shoulders,
Patients’ files await him on the desk for review:
Some marked for discharge, others for theatre,
While some still await his notes.

Patients queue, each waiting to be heard.
Then come the ward rounds and fresh decisions:
Some patients are wheeled into theatre,
Others transferred to intensive care.
With every encounter comes the risk of infection,
For his calling exposes him to danger.

Those who have responded to medication
Await his nod before they can go home.
Then a siren blares downstairs at the emergency unit.
Another life hangs in the balance;
The doctor must respond.

But the doctor needs family time, too.
His children wait for him in the early evening,
Hoping to have their father home.
Yet the hospital has other demands;
Medicine is not merely a job, but a calling.

Research at the university demands his attention.
New technologies emerge, and he must keep abreast.
Back in the village, his presence is expected,
A local fundraiser awaits his generous contribution.
The demands are many, the hours never enough.

Meanwhile, the Government delays
Implementing the new pay structure,
As negotiated and agreed.
The bank, however, never delays;
It raids his payslip without mercy.

He finally retires to bed, late and exhausted,
Only for the telephone to ring again.
An emergency!
He must return to the facility.

Another day, another call to duty,
Another life to save.

A day spent saving lives.