Dr. Rikki II: The Rise of Driftwood

A sense of déjà vu came over me. The hunched figure with a greying crown seemed so familiar.

The furrows on his forehead were like anyone else’s but somehow extraordinary for some reason.

Was he an ill patient that I once treated and have now recovered to full health?

Perhaps he was just another Sabahan with common features of a limited gene pool.



Dr. Rikki II: The Rise of Driftwood

It wasn’t the best time to be distracted.

The patient was severely ill and on her way for a brain scan in the Sabah Medical Center. Her vital signs were just barely acceptable and would require my close and total attention for the next hour or so. It is never easy to be jolted out of more secure environment in the ward and into an ill-equipped Malaysian ambulance.

Yet the face that I just glanced at in a flash refused to depart from the corner of my mind.

A sense of déjà vu came over me. The hunched figure with a greying crown seemed so familiar.

The furrows on his forehead were like anyone else’s but somehow extraordinary for some reason.

Was he an ill patient that I once treated and have now recovered to full health?

Perhaps he was just another Sabahan with common features of a limited gene pool.

I’m sure he was more than that. I am quite sure that at one point of my life I was by choice or by force, interacting with this native patriarch on a regular basis.

Something about him must have left a deep, lasting impression in me way back then.

I tried to attach a name to the face and maybe place the person in a regular environment.

An attire of some sort might help. So will a tie, a lab coat and maybe a stethoscope too.

The image seems complete now, except for a voice and some movements.

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting… Dr. Rikki?

Dr. Rikki?

The 46-year-old house officer?

The prince of the soil who lived off a MARA medical scholarship for ten years only to return as a ward jester starting 2 mls of Ryle’s tube feeding and one pint of third generation cephalosporin for maintenance fluid?

What the heck is he doing back in the hospital?

Wasn’t he sent to an apex university somewhere in Kelantan to repeat his final year of medical school?

He passed?

He passed!

He passed and he’s back!

I met Dr. Rikki again a few days later. Very casually, we exchanged greetings and I enquired about his current posting.

“Oh, I decided I didn’t like clinical medicine. I’m in management now - Quality Assurance Unit in the state health department.”

Had I not been on flat ground, I would have fallen back in utter disbelief and absolute astonishment.

I am not against providing a lifeline for doctors who are incompetent in clinical practice.

One has to feed a family, and Dr. Rikki is no exception.

If my ageing brain has not failed me, Dr. Rikki could hardly spell ‘A-O-R-T-A’ to refer a patient with severe chest pain.

So pray, tell, how on earth can anyone with minimal command of the English language be placed in administration and specifically one that implements quality control measures?

Is it any wonder Sabah is perpetually in such dire straits?