As a chronicler and commentator of medical events, it is not commonplace for you to, out of the blues, become a main character in the story. Well, it is not exactly like that. The truth is that I was just a part of this incredible story. I had received a wedding invitation to Osogbo for April 29 this year. The venue for the wedding was St Benedict Catholic Church, Popo Street; not very far from the Ataoja’s palace in Osogbo. That weekend was loaded for me. Firstly was the funeral of Elder Alex Eborieme, who was my senior in Eghosa Grammar School, Benin City and University of Ibadan. Secondly was the transition rite of Mrs. Queen Oakhiena, the wife of my school old boy, Patrick. Finally, was that I had scheduled three surgeries for April 28, the day of my departure to Oshogbo. On that day, I was just able to perform a Caesarian section and headed for the wedding ceremony at Oshogbo billed for the next day. This was simply “based on logistics”.
The year was 1989. It was one bright Sunday afternoon in Jericho Nursing Home Eleyele, Ibadan. I was then a resident doctor, a Senior House Officer and living in the doctor’s flat at the back of the hospital. Jericho Nursing Home is one of the oldest health facility built by the colonial masters in 1926 for their use. By 1989, it still had a telephone room and an operator. I’m sure all that has changed now. On that day, after coming back from Mass in St. Richard’s Catholic celebrated by Rev Fr. Fadeyi, I was home, alone and bored. Then water supply was a challenge in Ibadan. Out of wanting some bit of exercise I picked up my bucket to fetch water from a manually operated bore hole that was located at the centre of the hospital field. Actually, I had enough water to sustain my needs for two days, but something was forcing me out my flat. Well, I was compelled to go and fetch some water.
Immediately I passed the mortuary on my way to the hospital premises, I saw this young man who was holding his Catholic Rosary and praying fervently. I wondered, being a Catholic myself, why reciting the Rosary when people were busy fixing lunch after service. Then he walked up to me and asked: “Please, are you the resident doctor here?” “Yes Sir,” I replied. “Please, my wife has been in Labour since morning and no doctor has come to review her,” he said.
There was no room for me to even debate whether I was on call or not. I simply dropped my bucket and went straight to the Labour room. That was when ultrasound scanning was not common and most health facility didn’t have them. The doctor only had his hands for palpation and his ears for listening to the baby’s heartbeats or auscultation. By the time I was through with the review of the patient in labour, it turned out to be a twin pregnancy. The first was coming with the head, which was good news, while the second twin was lying across which in medical is referred to as TRANSVERES lie. I had to hang in there and see the labour through.
Commonly, twins have comparatively smaller sizes when compared to normal single babies. Kehinde’s delivery was simple and uneventful;, but I had to go in, grab the legs and brought her out. This type of manoeuver is usually referred to as INTERNAL PODALIC VERSION with BREECH EXTRAC
TION. The placenta was manually removed. By this time, the House Office on call had come and it was already dark. I was grateful to be relieved. All I could do was to go pick up my bucket and went back to my flat. I forgot that I actually came out to fetch water.
Looking back now, one should be thankful for advances in technology. These days’ twin gestations are picked up as early as six weeks. This makes room for good monitoring and planning of the delivery.
The whole event had gone into my distant memory until 2013 when I had a pleasant posting on my timeline from Mr. Francis Makinwa, the father of the twins. He had enquired whether I was the same doctor that came to his wife’s aid that memorable Sunday afternoon. I told him yes and we’ve kept in touch since then. It was a rude awakening when on April 3 I received a wedding invitation in my inbox concerning Kehinde and Taiwo. Both were wedding on the same day and venues. Immediately I realised that this is one story that I must complete by simply attending the event. Not too many of us doctors are lucky to have this type of story to tell in a lifetime.
For me, it was time to feel the atmosphere of Ede, where incidentally my set was the pioneer youth corps members in the orientation camp and I was the parade commander. Gbangon and Ibadan that made me and I have not set foot on since 1991. It was all coming alive. I was going to drive through Iwo road again! Nothing was going to stop me. So on April 28 at about 10.30pm, I arrived in. Thanks to my colleagues, Adedeji and Rasaki, who made everything easy. They were passing by to Akure.
The next day, I didn’t want to ask too many questions tracing the venue; I simply paid an Okada rider to pilot us to St Benedicts Catholic Church. Quite an edifice, I must confess and for me it has been a while since I was in a SLOPING HALL with the altar located at the lowest level. There were two groups of choristers and good musical instruments. The two brides, the Makinwas were seated with the grooms who incidentally were no twins.
Wait for this. There were 12 officiating priests, 10 reverend fathers and two bishops. I could recognise Bishop Badejo and that was the best I could do. The beauty of it all was that the mass was celebrated in Yoruba.. The only time there were interjections was during the homily, when the preacher spoke English and translated immediately in Yoruba. I waited for it and got it: EUCHARISTIC PRAYERS IN YORUBA! Oh, my God I wondered what Lagos was doing to some of us.
The only time I heard English spoken was when the announcer said: “If Dr Emmanuel Enabulele is in this hall could he kindly see the father of the brides.”
…….To be continued.