As usual, several nurses were at the Nursing Station. They were all dressed in white and very charming. They took my vitals (Blood Pressure, temperature, and weight). After that, I was directed to the waiting room, where I sat like other patients and waited until one of the nurses arrived to collect the record of my vitals and my hospital card. After we had waited for about 30 minutes, a male nurse came along and made an announcement in TRI. I listened carefully, and then I said to him, “Sir if it’s not too much trouble, can you please repeat what you just stated in English?” He smiled and apologized, but before he could repeat himself, another patient sitting directly before me issued an accurate translation of the nurse’s announcement for my benefit.
The first doctor I saw was a beautiful young woman. Not only was she charming, but she was also professional. She asked me to describe my ordeal, which I did. Afterward, she briefly examined the injured area of my right foot and leg to ascertain the level of pain I was experiencing. Then she furnished me with a signed paper directive to take to the X-ray department, probably to determine if I had suffered any fracture. Unfortunately, that office was closed for a local Muslim holiday. I returned to the physician’s office and was given a prescription for medication that lasted seven days. From June 17-23, I went to Berekum almost daily except on Saturday. Since that day is the sacred day of the rest of The Lord Almighty.
I returned to the hospital early Monday morning, June 25. I proceeded to the receptionist area, where I was redirected by a gentleman who seemed to have some authority over the X-ray lab. After waiting about one hour and delivering the signed physician’s directive to them, the staff on duty instructed me that they could not proceed with the X-ray because the attending physician had not placed me in the system. After returning to her office, she informed me that she could not order the procedure in question because the staff at the reception had not codified me as needed. I was quite frustrated by this time, and my anger was simmering. However, I restrained myself. The lady on duty was blameless because she intended to do her job. But for the nincompoop who advised us that I needed to proceed immediately to the X-ray lab. After arriving at the reception for the second time that day, I asked the young lady on duty, “What’s going on? This is my second trip to the reception today, and I’m wasting a lot of time!” I handed her my hospital card; she took it and codified me as was the required hospital procedure.
My attempts to reach the attending doctor’s office for the third time that day were fraught with many setbacks. One was the necessary delay encountered because some patients were ahead of me. While waiting outside of her office to be summoned, I fell asleep. My body’s automatic response to being up since 4:00 A.M. that morning. I was advised by the physician’s nurse assistant that I had been called much earlier. I was oblivious to their attempts to summon me since I was in sleep mode. After arriving in her office, the physician placed the order for my X-ray in the system, and I was soon on my way again to the X-ray lab.
She ordered an X-ray of my right foot. All attendant signs preceding the X-ray warned me that something serious was wrong. My right foot and the immediate area around my lower right leg were black and blue. The upper surface of my right foot was swollen, and I was experiencing a great deal of pain. Although that area seemed to be able to bear some weight. I wore both sneakers for approximately one week before reaching the physiotherapist. I was subsequently counseled not to wear anything on that foot, period. After the X-ray procedure was completed, the technician examined the picture and informed me that I had suffered a fractured Fibula. The Physiotherapist examined the same slide and confirmed that diagnosis. This was the afternoon of Monday, June 25, after discussing some of my immediate needs, including staying completely off my right foot for the foreseeable future. Indeed, such a posture would necessitate purchasing a four-legged metal cane or a stroller. I opted for the former, and when I returned on Tuesday afternoon, my new doctor/consultant had the cane waiting for me. Everyone I spoke to at the physical therapy location solemnly advised me to stay off my right foot. Ultimately, their good counsel sank into me like water, ascending to a higher concentration level during osmosis.
Before I left the Physiotherapist’s office, my injured foot was bandaged. I was escorted to a back room and instructed to lie on my back, on top of a hard bed, for this procedure. A support device was affixed to the bottom of my right foot and heel, extending upward to cover and enclose my calf. The bandage encircled my shin and calf. I was also given a prescription and handed the cane that I had purchased. Finally, I was solemnly warned again to put no weight on my right foot and instructed to return on Monday, July 1, to have the bandage removed and replaced with fiberglass.
Over the years, I discovered that I just couldn’t wear leather. My feet wouldn’t tolerate that substance in any shoe that enveloped my shank’s ponies. Therefore, I was forced to wear sneakers as early as my 30s. My feet loved them. I could wear them indefinitely without any negative consequences, which has been my practice for decades. While living in North America, I would fearlessly walk for several miles. The roads are made from solid concrete and steel, and the pavements are smoothly paved. Accordingly, there was minimal danger of falling as long as I walked outside during the fall and summer months. During Spring and winter, I would frequent a nearby health and exercise center where I accomplished all the walking I needed to do. Not so in Ghana. Most of the thoroughfares out in the country are merely dirt roads. I, therefore, learned the hard way that as long as anyone walks on a dirt road, there is always a danger of falling. Because of the likelihood of soft mud in the dirt, you are stepping on. Especially if you are only wearing sneakers. Leather boots afford better protection for one’s feet and the rest of your body.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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