DIVERGENT CORNER

My whole life, I learnt to follow the norm, do everything like everyone else was doing, that is the standard, even when some things made absolutely no sense to me. It has made me question my own knowledge, my self-esteem, my abilities, everything.

On August 2, 2024, after years of self-doubt, I was diagnosed. Since then, even with many perceived weaknesses, I realized I had strengths, especially in my analytical skills. That recognition gave me confidence: I became more intentional, precise, and deliberate in my decisions.

That new phase came with fresh new challenges and frustrations. Even before the diagnosis, I was often regarded as stubborn, strong-willed, or rebellious because I often resisted or had strong opinions on issues that seem norm. After understanding myself, I became more deliberate. I could still follow routines and conform, but there were moments, so many moments, when I was forced to conform to outdated standards, even when I knew better. And I couldn’t just explain it; no one seemed to see what I saw.

I have challenges like this every day, forced to follow blind orders even when they make no sense whatsoever. Sometimes, even to the detriment of patients. I once admitted a patient with a Grade 3 pressure ulcer. By every standard, I was 100 percent certain it was a Grade 3. Usually, that would trigger the gold standard intervention: take photos of the ulcer, safeguarding checks, the full protocol and all. But to my surprise, the charge nurse on the day insisted it was a moisture lesion because that is how it was handed over to her on the phone. By this time, it was nearing the end of my shift. Of course, I accepted it, though deep down I knew it was wrong. The usual me would’ve insisted and argued, but I said to myself, if the boss says it’s moisture, who am I to un-moisturise it?

To my greatest surprise, I was later bombarded with emails asking why I didn’t notice the pressure ulcer. I felt helpless. I’d done what was expected, what was “by the book,” even though I knew the patient deserved more. This was just one of countless moments. Even tasks like managing fluid balance. I found it incredibly unacceptable that every patient, by default, had to have their fluid balance monitored regardless of whether it is clinically indicated or not. Nurses operate on auto-pilot now. It easier to just carry on monitoring even if it is not needed than to pause for a moment and assess patients case by case and eliminate the ones who do not neccesarily need certain interventions. I usually would remove ones not required, and focus on the ones that actually needed one. Yet every time I did that, the next person restarted it by default, I now seem like the lazy one.

Over time, as a way of protest, I started doing it like everyone else. I would start a fluid balance for everyone even if they didn’t need it at all. I would giggle at myself while doing it and feel petty at the same time. Other times, I would focus only on the ones that needed fluid balance and ignore the remaining; I wouldn’t bother to take those ones out, I would simply ignore them. Again, I would be severely be harrassed and threatened with emails for ignoring some of them. The know-it-all nurses would gossip and label me lazy. If you see things from my perspective, it feels like the NHS is a system overshadowed by rigid, mindless policies and protocols rather than patients care.

I have seen nurses write 700-word essay reports on one patient. The minimum word count for standard IELTS writing tasks 1 & 2 is usually completed in 60 minutes. So if it takes a nurse 700 words per patient in report alone and we usually have an average of 7 patients per nurse, that means in a standard 12-hour shift, it will take an average of 9 hours of admin work alone.If I wanted to write all day and tally charts nonstop, I would have studied public administration or something similar in uni.

I encountered a concept in a book I am currently reading, Atomic Habits. A study about chimpanzee behaviour in a tribe. When a chimpanzee had mastered an efficient way of cracking nuts in one tribe, if the chimp joined a new tribe, by default they would start cracking nuts like everyone else in the new tribe, even if that method was less efficient.

This insight shifted my perspective. Like the chimpanzee, I had been pushed to conform, even when I knew a better way, even when the established routine was just a distraction. And so, stepping aside, refusing to crack the nuts that everyone else was cracking, meant I had to step out.

My current predicament gave me a clue about my pops. I have seen a lot of evidence to suggest he was autistic as well, but the man never found out. He used to be an officer in the Nigerian Customs Service, and one day he upped and left the job for seemingly no reason, so I was told. I see so many traits of his in me, and it explains a lot of his challenges now. And this has helped me understand how impossible it can be for neurodivergent people to survive in a workplace with rigid, one-size-fits-all protocols, especially when we know there are better ways but we’re trapped. Our frustration turns into anxiety, depression, and, for me, the hardest decision of all: to leave a job I once cared for deeply.

You probably know a few neurodivergents who are incapable of keeping a job no matter how hard they tried. Well, like me, this job was my 8th job in 13 years. My longest stint was in JUTH, 3 years. When I leave a job, I usually wasn’t able to explain exactly why; some of the decisions have been impulsive. Others I’d say it is for ‘family reasons’ and although that is partially true, its really because I just couldn’t cope anymore. Every day I step into work There’s usually only one thing on my mind, how long am I going to have to tolerate this? How is everyone happy doing this except me? Currently, my response is that “I am not coping.” It may sounds vague to anyone. If they ask further to explain in clearer terms to make them understand, I usually get tongue-tied. I’d blab until we are both lelft confused. But this is the reality of my situation. Maybe if anyone asks me again, I would refer them to my blog for explanation. I am afraid neurotypical people will still find my reason flimsy. After all, it is a system designed by them and for them.

Me in it, I genuinely sometimes feel like I am going to stop breathing. Something very silly is enough to ruin an entire week for me. The depression is not something I can explain because most times I am not able to express it physically or with words. Because I have one expression for every situation: anger, sadness, joy, excitement. So no one is usually able to tell the extent of the pain. I explain it sometimes with a smile on my face even.