The 3 young medical students moved in to surround the rather large oversized cot of crying child in obvious discomfort . They mulled around the child whose demeanour was so full of anguish, despair and discomfort listened to them test their little found knowledge from short lived paediatrics training resulting in opinions or solutions which were neither here nor there.
Each taking turns with the stethoscopes to diagnose doom or gloom or satisfy their curiosities in understanding what gibberish was on the patient’s medical charts. Still mulling, it soon dawned on me they had no idea about what they were looking for , or any clues about the solutions to end the despair of a suffering child.
Not even a pat on the back or an attempt to engage the child in a humane manner which could alleviate this Lab rat feeling (surrounded by 3 men in white coats wielding shining instrument dangling from their necks).
Nooooo… that’s not what we do around her! We are Doctors! Ehem; ehem, sorry Ooooh. Medical students soon to be fully fledged Doctors only deal with people on a professional level not on a social. We would otherwise be called social workers. Isn’t social work part of what we do as medical doctors? I thought out loud. Erm , Mmmmm, yes it is but not on the single spine; you would need a neurologist FOR that. A ‘NEURO WHAT’ who I asked? What’s the link between single spine and Neurology?
Welllllll, it has something to do with the spine INNIT'?... to be continued OR NOT
allotey@accralomi.com © Accra, 2010
Tuesday 3 September 2013
AGE IS JUST A NUMBER
http://www.guardian.co.uk/
A great story about the tricks your age can play on you. At 44 I sometimes think I am 18 with all of my previous athletic prowess intact. I am reminded quickly on saturday evenings after Tennis and Social or Sundays mornings after volleyball and Waakye. The pain, always a reminder of one's forgetfulness and physical state.
I had what is called an Anterior Cruciate Ligament injury about 15 years ago playing Basketball for the London Polytechnic team, (previously known as Regent Street Polytechnic) the only link was that we trained at the premises of the then London Polytechnic on Harley Street end of Regents Street. It was a club coached by Alan Tillot run by an elderly Saville Row tailor called Harry Errington who was also an European Basketball official. This man travelled around Europe officiating basketball games from the table. Please check link below.
(http://www.theguardian.com/news/2004/dec/30/guardianobituaries.firefighters). Harry had a wonderful sense of humor. His always question to me was if I had found a rich widow yet, a question to which I always answered ' No Harry, I am waiting for you to find one first'.
We did not win a lot games but we never lost the fight. Our biggest matches were against the Metropolitan Police either at their Training School in Hendon, North London or at our home court behind Paddington Station. Those battles always ended up with a scuffle or two between some of my white middle class team mates who did not take kindly to being asked 'what Council Estate they came from'. I never took offense to any of this type of heckling planned to keep you off your 'A' game because I did not come a Council Estate neither was I supposed to be part of anything they could brand that was supposed to be lower than they were. Without blowing my own horn I still was able to amass my fare share of points, rebounds, assists and blocks in my usual all action fashion. Ohhh those were the days.
allotey@accralomi.com © Accra, 2013
A great story about the tricks your age can play on you. At 44 I sometimes think I am 18 with all of my previous athletic prowess intact. I am reminded quickly on saturday evenings after Tennis and Social or Sundays mornings after volleyball and Waakye. The pain, always a reminder of one's forgetfulness and physical state.
I had what is called an Anterior Cruciate Ligament injury about 15 years ago playing Basketball for the London Polytechnic team, (previously known as Regent Street Polytechnic) the only link was that we trained at the premises of the then London Polytechnic on Harley Street end of Regents Street. It was a club coached by Alan Tillot run by an elderly Saville Row tailor called Harry Errington who was also an European Basketball official. This man travelled around Europe officiating basketball games from the table. Please check link below.
(http://www.theguardian.com/news/2004/dec/30/guardianobituaries.firefighters). Harry had a wonderful sense of humor. His always question to me was if I had found a rich widow yet, a question to which I always answered ' No Harry, I am waiting for you to find one first'.
We did not win a lot games but we never lost the fight. Our biggest matches were against the Metropolitan Police either at their Training School in Hendon, North London or at our home court behind Paddington Station. Those battles always ended up with a scuffle or two between some of my white middle class team mates who did not take kindly to being asked 'what Council Estate they came from'. I never took offense to any of this type of heckling planned to keep you off your 'A' game because I did not come a Council Estate neither was I supposed to be part of anything they could brand that was supposed to be lower than they were. Without blowing my own horn I still was able to amass my fare share of points, rebounds, assists and blocks in my usual all action fashion. Ohhh those were the days.
allotey@accralomi.com © Accra, 2013
RANTINGS OF A BƆƆLU GBEY...
Yesterday the 2nd of September 2013, I took some time out of my creative schedule to go watch the Black Stars at the Accra Sports Stadium ooohh sorry oohh, the Ohene Djan Sports Stadium. The teams turnout was meager because the rest of the team was still enroute from their various destinations of employment worldwide. The face of international football has changed and is a far cry from the days when the whole national team was up of players from the local league. Having watched many a Black Stars training sessions at the now derelict Kaneshie Sports Complex or the Ohene Djan Sports stadium, yesterday was able to bring back the nostalgia that instigated my decision to go watch the training session. One big memory of such training sessions I watched was in 1982 prior to the Libya (Cup of Nations) of a hastily put together Black Stars team led by the fearless C.K Gyamfi. An Era where the only non local players were George Alhassan and the captain Emmanuel Quarshie who was with Zamalek (If my memory serves right). I remember a standing next to a teenage Abedi Pele (all Jerry Curled up, dripping with a mixture of activator, sweat and testosterone) being interviewed for TV or Radio (N.B we could not spell internet in those days). Those days saw some full scale full pitch matches sometimes against the local sides or the whole call up. It was value for money even though it was free to get in. With players getting into some full blown career threatening tackles because of the sheer competition for places besides or other underlying factors like team rivalries.
Ohh, how international football has changed. Players are now
wrapped in cotton wool and only fully unwrapped on the day of serious competitive
engagement keeping them ticking over like well oiled machines and away from any harm or misfortune to get their
maximum performance. And watching the small pitch session from the stands
yesterday got a lot of things going through my mind. These laughing, joking
group of brothers, friends will on Friday become a fighting unit burdened with
the expectation of a whole nation to beat Zambia and qualify for the World Cup
playoff round.
What a responsibility, way beyond my measly one international Basketball
Cap against Togo at ‘a filled to the rafters’ Lebanon House, Tudu in 1985.
My only regret that day was getting only a few minutes on the floor and missing
both free throws when I went to the foul line. Our lot those days were and
still is a far cry from the money laden and underachieving Black Stars of today.
I
remember we got changed at St Joseph’s C.Y.O (another bastion of Ghana Basketball)
and commandeering a Tro-Tro for the 5-10 minute journey to Lebanon House. The
Black Stars’ current luxury coach would have had difficulty maneuvering into
the Lebanon House so it must have been a tactical masterstroke by the 3 man management
team of Ceasar Akpakli, Braa Matthias and Coach Victor Munford to keep the team hungry and focused
for the task ahead. Our post match victory party was held at a Hotel in Osu
Kuku hill (will provide the name in chambers) getting there on a back of a pick
up wearing our national track suits was an unbelievable sight to behold for by
standers who might have cared to take a closer look. Our previous 2-3 weeks
allowances plus winning bonus was handed and received with gratitude, about 1000
Cedis in all (which was a lot of money then). That night at the Tesano Gardens
I was the ‘Paymaster General’ and made sure the BuBra flowed like there was no
tomorrow ably assisted by my then able ‘Finance Minister’ (name With held for
confidential reasons) still in my regulation Uniform and Tracksuit showing off
and behaving in a manner unbefitting of sportsman let alone an international
just coming from a game he had participated in. Of course I might have been the
only one who cared or understood why I was still in my track suit at 10pm
necking down Draught beer because frankly nobody gave a toss.
Times have changed in the field of sports and sportsmen around the world have become very cautious about the dietary and recreational drinking habits because they are now very highly invested and paid cash machines with agents, managers and investment brokers who take care of their every day to day activities to keep the machine ticking over. The legendary stories of footballers’ drinking habits at various watering holes in Accra where the cream of league footballers would allegedly converge before and after league matches to refresh themselves are not just common to just these parts of the world.
Footage of footballers having an after game cigarette and a drink in the baths of many a football ground in England was the norm rather than the exception. In those days it was seen a manly thing to do rather than an unhealthy habit unbecoming of a sporting hero without the current intrusion of camera phones, Twitter and Facebook and the ever waiting sensation seeking newspaper to contend with, life must have a carefree carnival of careless abandon.
With all this in mind I pray we beat Zambia handsomely to make a statement, qualifying in the process and inducing the legendary fear national teams had of the once formidable Black Stars of Ghana. The bars in Kumasi and the whole country will make a killing as the parties will continue all weekend. All they have to do is to ensure they are fully stocked up for the ordeal.
Finally, all have to say is enjoy sensibly and carefully, and with this I leave with you the wise words of a musician bidding farewell at the end of the night in an Irish Bar.
‘PLEASE DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE, BUT IF YOU WANT TO, DO NOT FORGET YOUR CAR’.
GO BLACK STARS GO
OSEEY YEE. YEEEEE YEI,
BLACK STARS OOHHH, BLACK STARS OOHHH,
YEEE YEEEEEIGHHHHH
allotey@accralomi.com © Accra, 2010
Times have changed in the field of sports and sportsmen around the world have become very cautious about the dietary and recreational drinking habits because they are now very highly invested and paid cash machines with agents, managers and investment brokers who take care of their every day to day activities to keep the machine ticking over. The legendary stories of footballers’ drinking habits at various watering holes in Accra where the cream of league footballers would allegedly converge before and after league matches to refresh themselves are not just common to just these parts of the world.
Footage of footballers having an after game cigarette and a drink in the baths of many a football ground in England was the norm rather than the exception. In those days it was seen a manly thing to do rather than an unhealthy habit unbecoming of a sporting hero without the current intrusion of camera phones, Twitter and Facebook and the ever waiting sensation seeking newspaper to contend with, life must have a carefree carnival of careless abandon.
With all this in mind I pray we beat Zambia handsomely to make a statement, qualifying in the process and inducing the legendary fear national teams had of the once formidable Black Stars of Ghana. The bars in Kumasi and the whole country will make a killing as the parties will continue all weekend. All they have to do is to ensure they are fully stocked up for the ordeal.
Finally, all have to say is enjoy sensibly and carefully, and with this I leave with you the wise words of a musician bidding farewell at the end of the night in an Irish Bar.
‘PLEASE DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE, BUT IF YOU WANT TO, DO NOT FORGET YOUR CAR’.
GO BLACK STARS GO
OSEEY YEE. YEEEEE YEI,
BLACK STARS OOHHH, BLACK STARS OOHHH,
YEEE YEEEEEIGHHHHH
allotey@accralomi.com © Accra, 2010
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