Through It All

Chapter Three

The end of the month always comes with a rush that could drive even the sanest people out of their mind.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting? What do you mean my file has not been released?" I heard a man shout from the reception area, interrupting my explanation on how to take medication to my chronic patient.

"Just a minute mama, I'll be back," I say and quickly exit the examination room. The commotion is already getting out of hand when I get there. The old man has already wreaked havoc by the reception window.

Just before I go to reach him, if only to try to assuage the situation, someone holds me back by placing their hand on my shoulder. Heat immediately floods me and I turn to see who it is.

"Let me deal with it," he says, giving me a look I can't quite read. I nod wordlessly, stepping aside to let him sort it out.

The old man, whose waving his walking stick around recklessly in defence, aims for Thapelo as he approaches.

Everyone gasps in shock, including myself, but Thapelo manages to get a hold of the stick without getting harmed.

"Timer, calm down," he says firmly, his deep voice steady. "This is not the way to speak to the staff members, or how you should behave," he reprimands sternly, speaking like one would if they were calling out a child.

For a moment, it looks like the old man might try to fight him, but for whatever reason, decides against it.

"Please follow me outside," he requests politely, but you can hear it in his voice that this is not debatable. As they walk out, Thapelo gives me a meaningful look that I can't read.

With the heart of the commotion dealt with, everyone settles back into their receptive places. I turn my focus to the patients and ask for their attention.

"Good morning bagolo! How many of you are yet to be issued your files?" I ask and a number of people raise their hands, more than I expect actually.

The old man's frustration is put into perspective now.

"Alright, thank you, you'll be helped shortly," I say, hoping this assurance would relief those who are agitated.

I walk over to the reception window with a stern look.

"Ms. Mahlangu, how are you?" I start. She's newly appointed. I thought she was going to be different, but it seems the bad spirit of some of the other staff members has consumed her.

I feel her fear without having to ask. I've let her mishaps go unattended to simply because I was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm good, how are you, nurse Lebelo?" She's practically trembling. Under any circumstance, I'd feel sorry for her. But considering her hand in what went down, it's good that she feels this way.

"I'm not too good. Can you speed up the process of issuing files?" I request. There's a polite smile on my face, but my eyes are breathing fire. As the sister in charge, it's my responsibility to make sure operations are going smoothly.

That there's commotion is an oversight on my end. The quicker this is nipped in the bud, the better.

"Of course nurse Lebelo, right away," she says quickly, tripping over her own words. As I return to my post, I see the way they are all looking at me, but I don't care. We aren't here to play or work at our own pace. People are sick and they need our services.