Room 911

 “Who’s that man?”

   “He’s a police officer.”

   “What makes you say that?”

   “I saw his police badge.” She whispers.

 Folding her arms, she says with trepidation: “Then I’m finished.” The officer is coming out of the restroom now. The chief nurse is moving toward him as fear and anxiety gnaws at her heart. She’s now trying to put on a veneer of politeness. Gnashing his teeth in rage, he says:

 “Why didn’t you tell us you were a police officer immediately you entered this ward? I would have personally seen to it that your relative was given an express service.”

 Behaving like a demonstrative toadying dog, she instructs the junior nurses to quickly take me into the observation room on a stretcher. As soon as I was inside of it, I counted about five nurses around me. Each of them tried to make me feel comfortable. All this while, my thoughts were with that old lady who was left to flounder in a morass of inefficiency and corruption. After being administered a sedative injection, I subsequently fell asleep.

 It’s now daybreak, I’m still in my bed. I hear a voice that seems like that of Abudu. I ask myself: “What does this man got to do with me after having treated me like his pet?” He’s asking the nurses about a young pretty girl who was admitted to the hospital yesterday.

 “Where’s that girl who was admitted here yesterday?”

 “She’s in room 911.”

  I hear him shout on top of his voice.

   “Do you say room 911?”

  “Yes, you heard me alright!”

  “Please get that girl out of that room immediately, it’s an evil number.”

   “Sir, you cannot come over here and dictate to us what should be done to you relative.” 

    “Sorry, but…”

    “But what?”

    “I’m just worried she’s in room 911.”

To be continued…