retalien

The mirthful expression on my face the day my final MB results came out will always be one of my most memorable moments on earth. It was such a normal day. I was just watching anime on my tab, whiling away time. Then our class group chat blew up with a debate about when the results would finally drop — it was already taking forever. At 4pm, someone sent a picture of the results to the group. I drew in my breath, searched for my matric number... and saw it: PASS. I couldn’t hold it in. I was running around school shouting with pure joy. The excitement and amusement on my face were written all over me, and I know I’ll never forget how I looked in that moment. Definitely one of the best days of my life.

English is full of funny words. Take thespian, for example. We already have ‘actor’ and ‘actress.’ Why did we also need ‘thespian’? And if that wasn’t enough, there’s ‘artiste’ too. That’s 4 different ways to refer to someone in the exact same profession. And it doesn’t stop there. Look at words for praise: ‘awesome,’ ‘superb,’ ‘amazing,’ ‘wow.’ All of them get thrown around to mean basically the same thing. This, my people, is why language is such a funny and tricky part of being human. It has too many options, too much flair, and it will never stop amazing us 🙃

We’re told Medusa is the epitome of beauty. The peak of art. The standard. But the truth is, I see Aphrodite as the real epitome. Imagine being so beautiful that you become an English word for desire. You become the idiom for beauty itself. Wanted by all. Used to describe anything lovely. And that’s the thing — history is written by the victors. Justice is defined by the winners. What if Medusa was right all along?

I’m obsessed with the oneiric genre of movies — think Paprika and Inception. They show just how fascinating the mind is and how limitless imagination can get. In these films you can be anywhere and anything inside someone’s subconscious. You can travel the world without ever leaving a room. But beware the consequences of the journey. In a dream world, one small mistake is enough to trap you there forever. I love the psychological battles too, and how the line between dream and reality gets so blurred you can’t tell which side you’re on. If you haven’t tried movies like this yet, you should. It’s the best way to see how wild and beautiful the oneiric genre really is.

A core principle and ethic of every doctor is benevolence. We are trained to offer help and care benevolently to everyone — regardless of age, race, religion, sex, or background. The patient comes first. Always. That means not depriving anyone of care or treatment, and always leading with empathy. Because how else do you sit with someone going through the worst day of their life if you can’t put yourself in their shoes? How else do you show real kindness if you’re not willing to see the world through their eyes? We’re taught not just to act kind, but to actually be kind and good-willed to every patient. Simply put: we treat them the way we’d want to be treated if we were in that bed.

One person immediately comes to mind when you hear the word pronoia, and that’s none other than Lionel Messi. The GOAT in most people’s books. The little kid from Rosario who was quite literally born for this sport. Pull up football stats across every competition and it’s the same story: “Most of everything” — except him. Most Ballon d’Ors. Most assists. Most World Cup goals. Most goals in a single season. The list goes on and on. It used to feel like the football gods just favoured him. Like the universe was conspiring for him instead of against him. That’s pronoia in human form. I used to call it luck, or destiny, or whatever. But after watching him for 20 years, I don’t think anyone’s buying the “just belief” story anymore. The man made it real.

I once had a patient who, sadly, wanted to get to the other side. May their soul rest in peace. They had been having a really rough time. Their admissions and discharge kept getting delayed, and right when they couldn’t take it anymore, they decided to take something. We caught it early. We were able to clear it, and for a moment it felt like we had them. But then, in the middle of treatment, they decided to exacerbate the whole situation by pulling out their cannula and oxygen mask. After that we threw everything we had at it. But we still lost them. I don’t know what made them make that decision. It was one of my first losses, and it’s one of the most painful ones I’ve carried. But it’s experiences like this that shape you as a doctor.

Today’s word is something so common in Africa, especially with Yoruba mothers. Gosh, it’s basically a core course: PRETERITION 101. They will ignore a topic so effortlessly and act like it never existed. Meanwhile they’re looking it dead in the eye and telling it, without saying a word, “I’m not interested.” Some of them are so good at it you’d swear they were innocent and just didn’t notice. Then weeks later you hear them casually bring it up when you’ve completely forgotten, and you realize they knew all along. Got you off guard. Instead of addressing it, they’ll glide right past it. Change the subject, throw in subtle distractions, reference it sideways, or hit you with sarcastic answers until the whole conversation derails. No one does it better. And honestly, if there was a second definition, it would be: a trait perfected by most African mothers. The wildest part? They do it without ever sounding pretentious. Just calm, unbothered, and completely in control.

This year’s World Cup might be the most frustrating one yet. With all the advancement in technology, we still ended up with one big, unnecessary controversy. It was when FIFA decided to rescind Balogun’s red card from a previous match. The reason given? He’s one of their best players. Look, I’m not even saying it was a red card. And I’m not against appeals. We’ve seen red cards appealed and decisions rescinded before, and that’s fine when it’s done properly. My issue is the timing and the optics. You can’t just make a call because a big name pushed for it. Review it, be transparent about it, and do it because the rules demand it — not because of who’s involved. I don’t know what happened behind closed doors. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But that decision is definitely going to be one we remember from this tournament.

Honestly, today’s word hit a little too close to home. As a medical personnel, you grow used to the word “insidious” because it shows up with almost every bad or chronic case. “Pain was insidious in onset.” “Cough is insidious.” Those are usually the warning signs of something chronic. And most times, when a patient walks in with symptoms described that way, it doesn’t end well. Very few walk out of it. What makes it worse is realizing it’s not always the patient’s fault. The broken healthcare system, low health literacy, people ignoring symptoms because they seem “small” — by the time it stops being insidious and becomes sudden, it’s already too late. And because we can only manage and not always cure, we end up looking like the bearers of bad news. That’s the insidious part. A small, quiet word that slowly trains you to expect the worst. Rantings from someone who’s seen too much of it.