The doctor who died...

The world has truly queer characters and we bump into them everywhere. Like this one here. He was a newly recruited medical officer in a leading hospital in Western. Dr Gita was his name and he was what we call a case and really it was baffling how he had not yet received any help for his condition. You see he had a form of mania. His ward rounds were what we call a shambles; if he found himself out of depth with a particular patient's condition (which was pretty often) he had no qualms with simply leaving it off and proceeding onto the next one! Half written notes and no decision on patients were his signature footprints, a sure sign that he had been there.
It is however true that even the best of them is bound to find himself in this situation occasionally. But when this happens on the regular then the alarm bell of individual competence (or lack of it) goes off loud. As a matter of fact Gita was the subject matter of many formal and informal discussions in the hospital. And for completely different reasons. His professional competence apart, his personality was  quite intriguing. A genial man at heart he was known to be found in the hospital kitchen in deep conversation with the cooks and helping himself to unrationed servings of patients' food. In the wards he was also known to help himself on patient's food especially fruits during his rounds. If this was not funny then how about dumping sweets wrappings on patient's clean plates!
Dr Gita had one saving grace, he was particularly gifted at surgery and it's perhaps this that kept him in the medical superintend Yaga's good books. Yaga had an undisguised respect for any manifested surgical excellence, himself being a surgeon by specialty.
Gita was hired at the same time with Dr Alembi. Alembi had been plying his trade in a re-known high end private facility at the coast. It is perhaps this that informed his prescription practices. He could for instance prescribe a cephalosporin in a simple skin infection. Now Yaga did not take this too kindly. He always said this was akin to taking out a flea with a brick! He always wondered what happened to good old penicillin. During the routine morning clinical meetings this was a constant issue that always came up. There had to be validation why one chose this drug over the other alternatives. Alembi was a soft spoken man who just minded his business. Yaga was however alive to the fact that there is a personality, an individuality that goes with every doctor. Doctors were wont to have their choices and differences and as long as this was within the broad guidelines and policies then that was okay. So the facility adopted and enforced closely monitored guidelines on prescriptions particularly antibiotics.
When the first bout of pneumonia happened it was all attributed to the shift from the warm coastal clime to the rather colder western, it being the rainy season. But when within two weeks again there was the recurrence of the same some were puzzled, but even then no one dared think farther than just a case of bad weather. From there it was all downhill for Dr Alembi. He shed off significant weight and this got the hospital community talking albeit in hushed tones.
One notable observation during his periods of admission was his keen inquisition on what medicine he was being given and his adamant declination to take any white medicine. He however was not alone in this. Many medical professionals are known to have very funny treatment regimes for their conditions. There are those who believe that just a single jab of appropriate medicines will do for their malaria or enteritis! This is a clear case of doctor-now-patient-but-still-doctor scenario. But where exactly do you draw the line between being a dutiful patient and being an all-knowing medicine sciences trained professional? It has always been encouraged that medical professionals should entrust others with the treatment of themselves, their relatives and kin and this is for the obvious reasons of objective biasness.
It became apparent that Alembi's situation was deteriorating, He developed a severe pneumonia and oral thrush. Tests were done and when no amount of persuasion was enough to make him accept intervention it became clear why he wanted nothing to do with any white medication. Right under all the medical help one could wish for he developed full blown AIDS. And he shut himself up in an impenetrable shell beefed with the sacred grill of personal choice. Once this happened all his systems fell under the virulent assault of diseases small and major. There was no reconciling the metaphysical with the somatic...  
The most question that rend the air was, 'why?'
A doctor is a highly trained professional who is always in a constant brush with life and death situations. Amongst all his other obligations he is expected (when solicited or in special circumstances) to give his unbiased opinion on critical cases to help the relatives deal with the situation well. This will mostly be in grave injuries or in terminal and out of control conditions. This is besides inspiring hope and offering his best professional help. But what happens when it is the doctor on the sick bed? And he wants no treatment absolutely? Can we afford to lose one more doctor who adamantly chooses to master his own life or rather his death?
This is how a young lady herself a high school teacher was widowed, and two beautiful daughters bereaved of a father. He went out, badly stigmatized in a manner that he chose himself. 

Shortly afterwards Gita was dismissed, his weirdness having totally eclipsed any usefulness he had and Yaga and his board were left to wonder what that had all been about..