I have always been told to watch what I do on Friday the 13th. Not that I believe in superstition, but as I reflected on my first day in the department of surgery, I could not stop feeling that way. I had thought of going out after work to see how the town looked at night. But lying there in bed with a stomach full of semolina and okra soup, it felt like I had swallowed an elephant’s head.
The Red Book. Yes, Dr Braver’s rules book. The embodiment of Dr Braver’s Laws. The one-twenty-five-page pocket size book wasn’t actually red. The cover was not red. Neither was the content. In fact, the prints were in black and white. Several pages of information bound together into a book that every junior doctor must have in the pocket of his white coat and carry with him everywhere.
At first, all I wanted to do was simply scan through to familiarise myself with the book. To be honest, I already knew what it was all about, as I had heard him refer to his book numerous times. “It’s all in the Red Book.” “You haven’t read the Red Book.” Or when he doesn’t know what to say when you dare to ask him a question, “You will find the answer in the Red Book.” But as I scanned through the book, I found myself, stopping and reading.
The section dealing with “How a doctor should look” was not new to me. I heard a bit of reference to it when I met him this morning. “I will expect every doctor to be smartly dressed. Hair well cut. Tie to match a well-ironed shirt. Trousers not to go below the ankle. Shoes must not make a noise when you are walking. I hate jewellery on men. Any male doctor who wears jewellery to my ward round would have his jewellery confiscated.” I don’t have any problem with this section, I thought. I wasn’t bearded. I have bought nice ties and shirts. And my trouser sizes were hard to find. So most of my trousers fell short of my ankles. No problems.
“My main ward round is on Saturday. 8.00 AM. Every Saturday. This is a compulsory part of training. Under no circumstance must you miss this most important ward round.” I turned the book over and looked at the back again, as if I had not seen it before. I almost shouted, You must be joking. Of course, I knew there was no joke in this book. It was all real. And the doctor must obey. All the other things in this section were not new. The nurses had mentioned them to me. Case notes must be available for every patient. All the test results must be written clearly in the note and copies pinned to the front of the notes. They must not be filed until he saw them.
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The section, “Relationship with colleagues,” really fascinated me. “You are at work, not in the cinema or football stadium. You must not smile. Only speak when I tell you to. Doctors must not take instructions from nurses. And no doctor makes any decision without first checking with me. Your patients are patients, not doctors. You must not let them dictate to you what to do.” As I read this section, everything that happened this morning flashed back. I started to sweat in my armpits and my muscles twitched. “I’ve had enough of this,” I said to myself, as I tucked back his Lordship’s Red Book into where it belonged. The pocket of my white coat.
I felt that I needed to sleep over the encounter that I had with Dr Braver that morning. Sleep is very therapeutic. It takes you momentarily from all life worries. And after a good sleep, you feel refreshed ready to start another day. That was what I needed right now. I lay on my back massaging my over-filled stomach that looked like the stomach of a tadpole. My stomach was revolting for making it to carry a heavy load. I felt like saying to my stomach, Your host has to feed his fifteen stone body! Then, I farted; I thought I had ripped my pant. Thank God, I didn’t share my room with another person. I started to feel less bloated and, at last, I could turn on my front, which was my preferred position when in bed.
Now feeling easier, I reached for the Red Book again, determined to read through the whole book before sleeping. I was going to be in theatre with Dr Braver tomorrow. No doubt he would expect me to know about his rules. Every so often, my hand would drop to the bed and I struggled to re-locate the page. I was repeating lines and letters, and lines appeared double. I got up and walked round the room. I knew I needed to sleep; yet I must read this important book. No one knew me more than myself. Some people would sleep and decide to wake up at a particular time, and they would actually wake up. I wasn’t that kind of person. Once I slept, that was it until morning. So, I was not going to sleep now. In the end, my eyelids were too heavy to keep my eyes open. My muscles had lost the strength to sustain my grip. And my thighs fell heavily to the bed, as I humbled myself to the all too powerful nature.