Tragedy Of Nigeria’s Health System
BY SIMON REEF MUSA
Last Monday proved an eye opener on the rot of Nigeria’s health. A friend of mine had lost a relation on Monday. When I was informed of the young man’s sickness penultimate Sunday, I advised the relation to take him to a hospital.
After an initial treatment at a nearby hospital that Sunday evening, he got a respite and returned home. The next day in the morning, he was taken to the Federal Medical Centre (FMC), Jabi for further medical attention.
After spending several hours at the FMC, Jabi that was donated to the Federal Government by the Chinese, he was told there was no bed space. The relations would later take him to Garki Hospital where he was pronounced dead.
The process of confirming the death of the young man in his early 30s proved hectic. Relations of the dead were asked to buy the hospital card even when no doctor had attended to him while he was struggling with the Angel of death.
Before the doctor was through with the paper work, the relations of the dead were told there were no space in the morgue. Arrangements were finalised to transfer the corpse to Asokoro General Hospital. Arriving at the Asokoro Morgue, a frail looking fellow appeared and told the grieving relatives that there was no space.
It took nearly three hours to secure a space in the morgue. Of course, money must have changed hands. How they deploy personal tragedies of helpless Nigerians to enrich themselves.
Last Friday, it was yet another trying moment. As I started writing my column for LEADERSHIP Weekend, I got a message that my neighbour’s mother had passed on. He had sent words that I should come to his assistance. I pleaded with him to exercise some patience before I could join him.
Thereafter, my neighbour, his wife and I commenced the rot-exposing trip to the University of Abuja Teaching Hospital, Gwagwalada. Arriving the hospital at 9:28pm, we noticed the above pictured car. I moved closer and peered into the car. I saw almost a lifeless body.
I made my way to the emergency section and was shocked at the near helpless situation of both the sick and health workers.
“Please, we do not have a bed space here. If you have a sick person, please take them to a private hospital.
“We need a doctor to confirm the death of my friend’s mum”, I responded to the relief of the nurse.
It took the nurse over 10 minutes to follow me to the car where my friend was sitting and holding firmly to his mum that was yet to be confirmed dead.
The nurse flashed a beam of light from her phone. After some few seconds of probing looks, she mournfully exclaimed, “Mama is dead. Please take heart.
“The practice here is that we don’t accept corpses here without a police report. I advised you go to the nearest police station and get a policeman to come and deposit the corpse.”
The memory of last Monday flashed through my mind. I protested but the nurse said that was the rule.
I told the nurse that; “She was a patient here and was due for medical review in May…”
“There is nothing I can do,” she interrupted.
There was another car parked near ours. Few persons surrounded the car and spoke in soft tunes.
I asked one of them if they had brought a patient for a medical attention.
“No, we brought the corpse of a young man killed by a mob. We have been here for the past one hour and no one has attended to us,” one of the people lamented.
When I got closer to take a look, the young man had been hacked in the cruelest manner at the neck. The blood was still flowing.
One phone call led to another, and the police who was in charge of bringing the corpse of the dead young man agreed to fill a form I can’t remember for us. That saved us the pain of driving to a police station.
After over an hour of waiting for the doctor, one of the men who brought the young man in the car uploaded on this post, went into a shouting session.
“We have been here since 4:30pm and now it is to 11pm, no one has attended to this boy. What nonsense is this? The noise attracted others who joined in the condemnation.
A man dressed in green soon appeared, looking agitated. He was closely followed by a nurse. He started asking questions and was joined by yet another person in green.
The young man in the car was breathing heavily. He seemed to be suffering from convulsion as the doctors would later confirm.
“We must get a space for this patient,” one of the doctors told the nurse.
Walking close to the doctor, I reminded him that we had been around for over an hour for him to confirm the death of my friend’s mum. He looked at my neighbour’s wife and followed her to the car where my neighbour was still holding tight to his mum.
After some minutes of examination and asking questions, he felt her still pulse and walked to the other car to repeat the same ritual for the dead young man. He called for the papers and commenced confirming the dead.
Some minutes to 12 midnight, we headed to the morgue to deposit the bodies. First the corpse of the young man was taken to the morgue amid sobs from relatives.
Before midnight, my neighbour was spared the agony of holding tight to the dead body of his mum.
The Gwagwalada mortuary is hell in itself.
“You need to pay N1,500 every day within the first seven days. After one week, any additional day will cost N2000. Embalmment is N30,000,” an attendant who looked weary told us in a shrill voice.
A nation that can’t take care of the living can’t be trusted to take care of the dead.
I now understand why our leaders don’t give a damn about us. I pray for you my friend, may your case never be handled by any public Hospital in Nigeria. The truth is that our country’s health system has collapsed.
Nothing more, nothing less.
…Reef Musa is a journalist based in Abuja
