A taste to remember

Munnira pov As I entered the hospital ward at Shika Zaria, Kabir hastily approached me. "Thank God you're here, Dr. Tahir has been looking for you," he said, breathing rapidly, as if he had just run a marathon. I nodded and headed straight to Dr. Tahir's office. "Good morning, sir," I said, showing respect. He smiled, removed his glasses, and leaned back in his chair. "Munira, I don't know you as a latecomer, why are you late today?" I remained silent, unsure if I should explain the reason for my tardiness, citing the long queue at the water tap due to the hostel's water scarcity, or simply keep quiet. "I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again," I said, lowering my head in apology. "Hope it doesn't," he replied, handing me a file containing a new patient's information. "I want you to take care of this patient, administer his medication and injections. He's a special patient, and it's all part of your internship. If you want a good report, take good care of him. I trust you." "Thank you, sir," I responded, leaving the office with a sense of responsibility. I was excited to have my first patient under my care, entrusted by Dr. Tahir himself. Upon entering the patient's room, I saw a young man, about 26-27 years old, lying in bed, and a woman sitting beside him, engrossed in her phone. I thought to myself, "Young men can be challenging." "Salam alaikum, ina kuwana (good morning)," I greeted, and the woman smiled and nodded. "Lafiya (all is well). You must be the nurse Dr. Tahir sent to us." "Yes," I replied, approaching the bed. The young man, Ahmad, was facing the wall, his eyes fixed on his phone. "How are you feeling?" I asked, checking his file. "I'm fine," he responded, his eyes still on his phone. I ignored his attitude and checked his IV drip. "Are you in any pain?" I inquired, feeling his temperature. He quickly pushed my hand away and asked, "Do we have a problem?" "I just wanted to check your temperature," I replied, maintaining a professional tone. "You don't touch my face; I don't like people touching me. Please mind your business," he stated bluntly. The woman in the chair intervened, reminding Ahmad to be cooperative, before leaving the room to answer a phone call. Ahmad continued to lie on the bed, scrutinizing me from head to toe, making me feel uncomfortable. "Do you have a problem?" I asked, trying to remain patient. "I don't like the perfume you're using; it makes me feel nauseous. I have rules and regulations: no touching my face, mind your business, and one more that I'll think about later," he said, his rudeness catching me off guard. "Is that all, sir?" I asked sarcastically, then turned to leave. Before I could exit the room, he requested someone else wash the toilet, not the previous cleaner. I gave a polite smile and left, feeling frustrated by his behavior. First impressions do matter, and Ahmad did not make a good one. He came across as arrogant, selfish, and inconsiderate. He was already proving to be a challenge. As I read through his file, I learned that Ahmad was a 26-year-old engineering student with asthma. Handling a patient with such a special case was a new experience for me, and I knew I needed to exercise patience. During my second visit to his room, I found Ahmad awake and ready for my attention. I put on a fake smile, anticipating another difficult encounter with him. "How are you feeling? Let's properly introduce ourselves since we didn't get the chance earlier. I'm Munira Kassim Alkari," I said, attempting to establish a friendly rapport. This time, Ahmad was not engrossed in his phone but fixed his gaze on me. "Hello, are you okay?" I queried. "You should know what you're supposed to do and when you're supposed to do it," he replied, raising his eyebrow, as if preparing for an interview. His demeanor perplexed me. "Is that all?" he continued, his abrupt manner taking me aback. "Did you even attend school? I doubt you fell from heaven and landed straight in university," he remarked, criticizing my introduction. "Excuse me, mind your language. Respect must be given to be received. I can tolerate your attitude, but I will not tolerate insults. I am not your maid; I am the nurse assigned to care for you," I asserted, my patience wearing thin. Ahmad responded with amusement, dubbing me a fighter. Despite his provocations, I proceeded with my duties, ignoring his taunts. His persistent stare made me uneasy, and I could sense his intention to provoke me further. I reminded myself that dealing with difficult patients was part of my job, and I needed to remain composed. As Ahmad pressured me for a proper introduction, I complied, revealing my name and background. He found amusement in my response, and I exited his room, feeling relieved to leave his challenging presence behind. For the third and final time that day, I entered Ahmad's room, ready to administer his medication. I approached him with pills and a syringe, aware of his aversion to injections. Despite his reluctance, I insisted on providing the necessary care. After a lengthy discussion and intervention from Dr. Tahir, Ahmad finally accepted the treatment from a male nurse, and the task was completed. Reflecting on my interactions with Ahmad, I acknowledged the importance of patience and professionalism in dealing with challenging patients. As a nurse, I must uphold my duty to provide care, even in the face of difficult circumstances. Ahmad's demeanor may have tested my limits, but it only served to strengthen my resolve to become a better nurse.