#saynotodrugabuse

DEAR DIARY...,
“Student Nurse?” It sounded distant like the sound of my Dad’s horn from the junction. “It should be my mind playing games”, I thought. This was my first day on medical-surgical posting and I had been posted to Male Surgical Ward 1 for 6 weeks. I had never been this close to patients in a hospital apart from the last time I saw my grandfather.  A chisel-shaped, macho man became a puppet as he lost the battle to muscle cancer. The pain on his face had been imprinted on my mind for years now and I vowed I was never going to go down that path. I would rather kill cancer than have it kill me. I was in 300 level and I knew nothing about cancer other than it had no cause, could be prevented and it killed. You would expect that as a Nursing Student, I should have taken interest and gone in search of knowledge but my life was a maze.

I struggled to jam JAMB for three years in a row to get into Medicine only to be denied my dream course because 2-5 marks each time. My aunt's fiancé, being a lecturer in Nursing department had come in and here I was in the worst profession ever. Well, that was what I thought and there it was, the genesis of my troubles. I was in a course that I had no liking whatsoever for. My friend, James was also a Medicine fan like I was but in 200 level had fallen head over heels with Nursing. In fact, he was planning to become a Midwife or as they jokingly called it Midhusband. "What in the world….?!" I was painfully disappointed when out of the blues, our talks on how to cross and become surgeons became rants on vaginal examination that he had stumbled on in a midwifery textbook in the library.  Geez! that was a 500 level textbook for goodness sakes. I hated Nursing the more for winning my best friend over.

"Student Nurse hmmm…...what's your name?" Oops!, before me was a young nurse, her glasses sitting pretty on the bridge of her nose as she roamed the left side of my chest for my surname. "Ayesoro" she mouthed as she read my name tag, her voice was firm but gentle. "Are you okay, you seemed lost and I've been trying to call you for a while? " she cruised. I smiled and bowed. She rocked my shoulder leaving me dazed. Was she really a nurse because I heard they all weren’t nice people?

Funnily till date, I haven't met a wicked nurse except for a matron that had an issue with everybody and everything. But back to me, this is where the story truly begins. Male Surgical Ward 1 was the place for cancer cases. From shifts to days, I inhaled the pain, stench and sting of death. Some were actually lucky and either went home much better or gained extra time. Some went the way of my grandfather. I hated Nursing, I hated this ward, I hated cancer, my friend couldn't feel let alone bear my pain of being in an arena of hatred and with each passing day, I even lost sight of becoming a surgeon. Why? I even hated the hospital.

In no time, I knew I was lost. I needed help and James told me so. He asked that I see the counsellor but I was felt it unnecessary. Wasn't I not only lost but foolish? Then, one day I met an angel. No, I actually searched for her. The nurse on duty had given us names of medications to research on. Fentanyl was mine to be. How?

Fentanyl is a very strong pain reliever called Opioid, stronger than morphine used to treat pain mostly in cancer patients. Also, it creates feelings of euphoria and relaxation. It wasn't till the next semester that I got so happy about Fentanyl. I was sent back to this ward because I had missed some days out of truancy secondary to depression. Health related individuals would understand that statement better. I had to make up for those weeks and here I was back to the horror of cancer. I couldn't help myself and i hated not only the hospital but the lecture theatres and slowly my room. Then one day, something happened…

A patient passed on losing the battle once again to cancer. We were carrying out the last office for him when my eyes caught the name "Fentanyl". I remembered its indication and how it worked; it seemed it was calling out to me. Before the relatives packed all there was to pack, I stealthily took the packet and it found itself safe in my scrub pocket. The nurses thought the family members had taken it, the latter also thought the former had taken it into the ward's possession.

On reaching home, I read the pamphlet with shaky hands for fear of overdose and the fact that I knew illicit use of drugs was wrong. I inhaled it and tried to sleep. All of a sudden, I jumped up, wore my jersey and headed straight to the football field. The match ended in a 3-2. I scored two goals for the winning team. This felt good but suspicious to my friends. They had watched me grow into a shadow of myself and wondered where this new me erupted from.

Not long after, I started meeting with my grandfather in my dreams. Was it because he felt attracted to the cancer medication? I couldn't say but he kept coming in ways I couldn't fathom. Before long, they said I started having hallucinations. Who were the they? Health workers and family member. How it happened, I can't say but from my mother’s eyes, it seems I’m on exile to my new world. Dear diary, as always I start my day with that poster that haunts my very being “Say No to Drug Abuse”