Little Drops Of Water (Medicine at it's finest)

 Practicing medicine in Nigeria can be a real downer especially as you come across care givers/health care professionals who have lost their passion and the compassion (sympathy/empathy) needed for medicine because the system is broken. But just last summer I had an encounter with a lovely doctor which reminded me that in my future practice, I must not lose sight of what's important.....

Highlight of my day? The instant smile on the face of a sickly 7year old boy with HIV.

As he sat on the chair in the consultants office, beads of sweat poured down his frail looking frame. Shoulders hunched and head bowed, it looked like he was carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He was so thin you could make out the outline of his ribs. He didn't for once raise his head or speak up while the doctor examined him.

After the pediatrician was done examining him, she asked his mother to carry him back to the chair as he could barely walk.

He looked so sad. Too sad for a 7 year old. So I went over to talk to him. "What is your name?" "My name is Destiny". That was the most I could get out of him as he went back to fidgeting with his hands. So while I sat there feeling bad for him and wondering what I could say/do to make him feel better, the doctor asked his mother; "Why is he looking so sad?"
Turning to the boy she said "My dear, why are you sad? Do you want to eat?" That was the magic word. The transformation was instantaneous.
His face lit up like a 1000 watts bulb. His lips curved into a shy smile. And for the first time since his mother carried him into that consulting room, he looked up and said Yes, he wanted biscuit. It was the most heartwarming thing.
After a series of questions, the doctor was able to deduce that he wanted Caprisonne and Digestive biscuit. After which the doctor turned to his mother and said "I'm prescribing 2 packets of Digestive biscuit and Caprisonne for him stat"

When it was time to go, you won't believe that the child who could barely walk on his own, jumped up from the chair beaming and all ready to go. I was literally fighting back tears.
It didn't matter the amount or efficacy of the drugs the doctor prescribed, the healing process for that child started the instant the doctor cared enough to ask him why he was so sad. It could have been easy enough to assume he was sad because he was sick and in pain.

What is the moral of this my plenty story now you may ask? I don't know for now,. But it was the ultimate high point of my day. I really hope you can identify with it.
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Growing Up

Disclaimer: "Please be nice to the cleaners, security etc. Just greet. Can you imagine going to work every day and people acting like you don't exist?" - @siyanyezi

Greeting is perceived to be an important part of the African culture. For the sake of this conversation, let's narrow it down to Nigeria.
So in Nigeria, from childhood, we are taught to greet people (our elders especially) as this is a sign of respect. Big props to the Yoruba people on this one, they have made greeting an art form.
In churches and big occasions, you can instantly know who is the "big man" in such gatherings just by the way people greet him/her.
"Ah! Daddy G.O good afternoon sir *kneels down*. How is family sir?"

But then how much do we encourage our children to greet those people in society who we consider "beneath us" - the driver, the cleaner at work, the security guy at the door of the bank, the help?
Right from childhood, my parents drummed it into our heads that we had to greet everybody regardless of their social standing. Trust me it wasn't fun then.
So whenever we went out with my mom say to the market for example, we would be standing beside her sheepishly(or impatiently, depending on the day) waiting for her to conduct her business. Oh and God help you the market woman opens her mouth to address you before you had the chance to greet her "good morning ma", you were in for a tongue lashing that day.
See eh, you dare not mumble your greeting (as I often did being a shy child), my mom would turn around and ask if your mouth was paining you!
"I greeted her and she didn't hear me" or "She was too far away for me to greet her" was never an excuse for my mom.

I remember one of the advice my Dad gave me when I was leaving for the university was to cultivate the habit of greeting people especially the handy men/cleaners in my building.
It was weird initially at first because people on the street will be shocked when I greeted them and by the time they gathered their wits to respond, I would have already walked past them. To be honest, it served as a deterrent for a while.

It's funny how some of the things I rebelled against doing as a kid turn out to be the things I do now without prompting from my parents.
This is a gentle reminder to my future self as the mother of two lovely kids not to get frustrated when it seems like they are not paying  attention to anything I teach them.
After all, didn't the Good Book say, "Train up a child in the way that he should go and when he is OLD he will not depart from it"

Keep calm, maturity and good sense would come in due time.