The School Nurse🦋🦋

In a world where sickness rarely touched me, my peculiar preference for injections over tablets became a defining part of my life.

I didn’t like the smell and the bitter taste of malaria drugs, nor did I like the feeling when each tablet crawled down my throat. It will stop at some point and then continue down, down to my stomach.

Sometimes I hold on to it, sometimes I throw up, right there on the floor, in front of the person who gave me the medicine.

It all started when I fell ill during my boarding school days. I would secretly dispose of some of the malaria medicine under the clinic bed, to avoid taking them altogether.
“Aunty, I hate drugs, I hate the way it smells, I don’t like it when I’m sick, I…”
“Sweetheart, I know you don’t like drugs, but you’ll have to take it, so you’ll feel better “ said my kind guardian.
“Alright ma, I will take it, please hand me the drugs,” I said.
But she looked at me and smiled.
“You know you can’t fool me again, the last time I did you threw the drugs away. So young lady, can you open your mouth? and let me feed you the drugs myself”. And so she will release the four tablets of malaria drugs I hate so much together with paracetamol into my mouth.

It wasn’t always easy because most of the time I’ll throw up the drugs together with all the other things in my stomach.

I can still remember vividly one of my sick days…I knew prayers wouldn’t heal me this time, and I also knew I wouldn’t be able to take the usual Arthemeter Lumefantrin. So I told my school mother “I think it’s time to tell Aunty I prefer injections”
“ I think so too” she nodded taking up my hand.
We were still contemplating how I was going to go about it when one of the wardens came in to tell me the matron said I should come for my drugs.
“What if she doesn’t agree?” I couldn’t stop questioning myself.
And so as I nervously approached the matron, I mustered the courage to utter the words that would forever change my relationship with medicine: “I'd prefer an injection, please” I said.

She wasn’t annoyed or surprised, instead, she asked me to go to the school clinic.

The school clinic was a haven of tranquility, with soft, warm lighting and soothing pastel-colored walls. The air carried a faint scent of lavender, creating a calming atmosphere. Plush chairs lined the waiting area, accompanied by a bookshelf filled with well-loved novels and a small fish tank that added a touch of serenity.
The inside was sectioned into small rooms, with two beds each properly laid with white sheets.
I then understood why some students malingered just to be here, this place was very peaceful.
It was truly a place where students could find solace and healing amidst the chaos of the school day

This was my first time in the clinic.
“ Hey, you are the student matron sent here for injection right?” one of the nurses asked and walked up to me.
“Yes Nurse, I’m here for my injection”
“Alright, go to room IV, your nurse is waiting for you,” she said pointing at the adjacent room.

Steadily, I walked into the room. There I met a very unattractive old lady, the four tribal marks on her face gave out her identity.
“Have a seat fine girl. What is your name?” She asked.
I didn’t greet nor answer the question immediately because I noticed her voice was incredibly calm and pleasant.
“Good morning nurse, my name is Maryann” I said, then sat down on the medium-sized sofa and focused on the pamphlet I took from the bookshelf outside.

“Welcome Maryann. I hope you won’t give me a tough time injecting you”.

“Please stand up and pull down your clothes”. The old nurse's command echoed in my ears, reminding me of the purpose of my visit.

I looked up and as I slowly rose from the chair, a knot tightened in my stomach, and a wave of unease washed over me.
“Does she want to stab or inject me?”
With trembling hands, I began to unzip my skirt, my heart racing with a mix of apprehension and vulnerability. The sight of her firm grip on the syringe sent a chill down my spine, I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, and mustered a weak reply "Oh, okay”.
The room seemed to close in around me, and I couldn't help but wonder what awaited me on the other side of that needle.
I have never seen anyone holding a syringe the way she did. I mean, I have been taking injections right from when I was born, but none of it scared me like this.
“Is she truly a nurse? Or an intruder?” I asked myself.

“Maryann, are you okay?” She asked.
“Yes..yes ma. I’m fine”
But my confidence wavered as she approached me with the needle, she really held it in a stabbing position.
I moved backward with each step she took forward.
Then finally, I turned my back and ran out of the clinic.

The image of her with the syringe haunted my thoughts. I had a series of nightmares in broad daylight.
As time went on, my fear of injections slowly grew. It became a struggle for me to take both injections and medicine. The mere thought of needles made me anxious.

But as time goes I realized that I needed to overcome this fear for the sake of my health. With the support of my family and healthcare professionals, I gradually worked on desensitizing myself to injections.

So I started to motivate and encourage myself before taking any medicine.
I’ll be like ‘It won’t kill me, it’ll only make me feel better’ and I will ask myself some questions like ‘Do you like the way you are now? You don’t wanna enjoy your sound and cheerful self?”

However, through patience and understanding, I learned to manage my fear and take medicine in whichever form was necessary.
Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t fully mastered medicine, I still winced and paced around the room before swallowing any malaria drugs.