Medical Doctors

By Hussein Adoto Bello 

In the first rotation of my clinical training at a federal government university teaching hospital in North Central Nigeria, resident doctors went on strike to protest the kidnapping of their colleague in Kaduna. The government threatened “no work, no pay.” Students lost a week of clinical training. The victim wasn’t released until weeks later. 

When I reached the second rotation, I was greeted midway with a warning strike by consultants protesting the non-payment of their arrears. Classes came to a halt, and we, the students, had to hustle for an extension. 

Now, in the third rotation, the Medical and Dental Consultants Association of Nigeria (MDCAN) has declared another strike. Students will once again be the victims, but life will continue.

Medical students may be called the next generation of residents and consultants, but when push comes to shove, we are the first to be thrown under the bus. And then patients. Classes stop. Clinics and theatres become skeletal, attending only to critically ill patients and emergencies. 

For students, the situation becomes a matter of finding X, where X is the number of days, weeks, or months the “warning” strikes will go before they are suspended or transform into indefinite strains.

What can we do? Unlike Mour Ndiaye in The Beggars’ Strike, the people who put students in this limiting position don’t need us to survive. We don’t pull enough academic or professional weight to influence their advancements as doctors, consultants, and professors. They can resume whenever and however. 

Government officials know they can keep students at home for nearly a year without hurting their chances at the polls. The students may even fight tooth and nail for them. 

The never-seen-but-felt hands of the hospital and the university management don’t need student crutches to do as they please. Their appointment is not premised on how long students spend in school or patients’ satisfaction. Students and patients are all left to gnash their teeth in the Academic and Clinical Waiting Area while the royal rumble rages. 

It’s not easy, therefore, to try playing Nguirane Sarr. The clever blind beggar realised that beggars have services they can withhold in light of their harassment, which made a difference in The Beggars’ Strike. 

What do students have? Twitter/X hashtags and a lot of God abegs! Boycotting classes, clinics, and theatre may not help; it will only transform an acute case into a chronic one. 

Students in Algeria went on strike to demand more residency openings and accreditation of their diplomas. It’s been weeks, and the issue has yet to be resolved. 

Moroccan students revolted against the shortening of their programmes from seven years to six by declaring a strike in January. December is less than two weeks away.

Meanwhile, medical students here rarely face such massive blows at once. We adjust to the worsening learning difficulties until we graduate, leaving the next generation of students to endure the crucible. Resilience, after all, is an undeclared objective of medical training. 

We are not equally affected, either. A clinical student has a different worry than those still struggling with anatomy and biochemistry in preclinical classes. A strike by ASUU lecturers may not be felt in the clinics. Students in private schools are largely immune to what happens to their colleagues in government universities, and so on. 

For now, one can only hope—rather than expect—that the country establishes independent arbitration bodies for resolving labour issues promptly without sacrificing hapless students and patients at the altar. 

Such a body should include representatives from labour unions, the government, students, and neutral mediators to ensure impartial decisions are swiftly implemented. It should also be able to hold the government, employers, and labour unions accountable so that everyone can act with greater responsibility and not with the callous indifference that has come to characterise labour disputes in Nigeria. 

Besides, labour unions and student bodies should organise themselves into a powerful lobby force that can successfully push for policies that serve their interests instead of waiting to use strikes to protect them. 

More importantly, striking workers and the government should give students and patients an alternative to manage while they bicker. They should host virtual classes if they can’t come for physical ones. They should host clinics or virtual consultations if they can’t go for ward rounds and theatre sessions. 

Thankfully for students, the ṣégé (difficulty) of strikes comes in aliquots, so we build tolerance until the situation rankles less and resistance becomes pointless. We only have to survive in brooding silence until we can escape the system with our scars or embrace it—like Ramatoulayé in So Long a Letter.

Hussein Adoto writes via bellohussein210@gmail.com.

By Dr Najeeb Maigatari

Your Excellency, I hope this letter finds you in good health. As I do not have the means through which my message could reach you, I am compelled to write this open letter to draw your attention to a menace threatening our healthcare system. That is the well-known Japa syndrome that has recently plagued our dear State.

I want to extend my heartfelt condolences to you and the good people of Jigawa State over the tragedy that befell the people of Majia a few weeks ago. This unforeseen event led to the loss of lives of over a hundred people and left several others with varying degrees of injuries. My heart goes out to the bereaving families of all those affected, and I pray that Allah repose the souls of the deceased and heal the injured. Amen.  

Returning to the purpose of writing this letter, Your Excellency, I would like to provide some details about how our dear state used to be. It was undoubtedly one of the states with the best healthcare systems and the highest number of practising medical doctors in Northern Nigeria. At one point, it was akin to a medical hub attracting patients and medical professionals from neighbouring states due to its subsidised healthcare, efficient service delivery, and overall welfare of health workers and patients. 

Since its creation in the early 1990s, the State has made giant strides in providing its citizens with effective and reliable healthcare services. To mention a few, various successive administrations have invested heavily in training Medical doctors and other health professionals, within and outside the country, in varying capacities to ensure effective healthcare delivery to the good people of the state. 

Similarly, Jigawa State has awarded scholarships with bond agreements to local and foreign medical students since time immemorial. It has produced medical graduates from various reputable institutions within and outside the country. In addition, it was one of the pioneer states among its peers to implement the sponsorship of medical doctors through postgraduate medical training programs to further their studies, a policy several other states would later adopt. 

Your Excellency, I can say with immense pride that our healthcare system performance score was impressive overall. It used to be one of the best in the country. The services rendered were affordable and accessible to the masses, and the welfare of patients and healthcare professionals was optimum. For instance, at some point, healthcare workers in Jigawa State were earning more than their federal counterparts. 

Unfortunately, things have now taken a turn for the worse. Our healthcare system is not only ‘underperforming’ below standard by all measures but also one of the worst in the country. We are now a shadow of our past. Jigawa State has a patient-doctor ratio of 1:35,000, far exceeding the WHO recommendation of 1:600, making it one of the states with the worst healthcare systems in Nigeria. This is indeed a troubling situation. 

Over the past few years, Jigawa State has witnessed an unprecedented mass exodus of medical doctors to other neighbouring states owing to poor welfare, overburdening workload, and inadequate health facilities in hospitals, among other factors. Regrettably, this internal Japa syndrome ravaging the state continues to overstretch our already fragile healthcare system. 

To put things into perspective, according to data obtained from the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) Jigawa State branch from 2013 to 2024, of the 264 doctors who reported back to the state for bonding agreements, only 40 stayed after completing their terms. This is to say that more than 220 medical doctors have left to continue their careers elsewhere because Jigawa is fast becoming a nightmare and a difficult place for medical doctors.

It is worth noting that the state produced over 500 medical doctors (both foreign and locally trained) during the same period. Still, only 214 are on the state payroll, of which only 77 are currently manning the state’s primary and secondary institutions. They are about to round up their bond agreements by the end of the year; 89 are in training as either house officers or doing national service. The state has less than ten consultants and only 12 doctors in residency training. Altogether, fewer than 100 doctors attend to a population of over 7.5 million. 

This data suggests that while the state is doing a good job at producing medical doctors (both local and foreign), its retention capacity is very poor. The State will be left with no Medical doctors in the coming years if things continue at this pace. It has to either employ doctors from neighbouring states or overwork the few that stay to death if at all there would be! Your Excellency, this is only the tip of the iceberg as far as this crisis is concerned. This menace has no end. 

As a citizen concerned about the interests of Jigawa State, I implore you to declare a state of emergency on health in Jigawa State and engage with relevant stakeholders to find a way to end this worsening Japa syndrome, which is wreaking havoc in our dear state.  

The most crucial step to addressing this issue is the urgent need for the improvement of the overall welfare of the few Medical doctors and other healthcare professionals left in the state who are already struggling with chronic fatigue due to overwhelming patient workload. This singular act will not only boost the morale of these weary Medical professionals but relieve them of their burden. Still, it will also attract others from various States to compensate for the acute shortage of Medical doctors in the state. It will also improve the effectiveness of healthcare services delivered to the people. In other words, we can go back to our glory days. 

 Various States have already employed this strategy. Your Excellency, Jigawa State can not afford to lose the doctors it invests heavily in. This could amount to a work in futility! 

In addition, the government should seriously consider domesticating the Medical Residency Training Fund (MRTF), which will help train experts in various medical specialities in the state. This would help address the shortage of registrars and consultants in our tertiary facilities and provide an avenue for a healthy and excellent research environment in the State.

Other measures include equipping our already existing hospitals with state-of-the-art facilities and subsidising healthcare services, especially to women, young children and those suffering from such chronic debilitating conditions as sickle cell disease and chronic liver and kidney diseases. Your excellency, I believe these are some ways that could help end this menace threatening our very existence, help revitalise the State’s healthcare and improve its delivery to the citizens of Jigawa State. 

 Najeeb Maigatari is a Medical doctor. He writes from Dutse, Jigawa State, via maigatari313@gmail.com.

By Aishat M. Abisola

Over the years, Nigeria has dealt with a profound crisis plaguing its healthcare system, exacerbated by the alarming rate of brain drain among its highly skilled medical professionals. Nigeria’s health sector is precarious as doctors, nurses, and other essential healthcare personnel depart for greener pastures abroad.

A closer look reveals a critical factor fueling brain drain, harming our health sector. The consequences of this phenomenon are dire. It has led to a shortage of healthcare professionals, compromising the overall quality of healthcare services in Nigeria.

One key reason for the brain drain in the Nigerian health sector is chronic underfunding, which results in dilapidated infrastructure and insufficient resources. Healthcare facilities in the country also suffer from a lack of modern equipment, outdated technology, and inadequate supplies.

Motivated by their desire to provide high-quality care, healthcare professionals flee to countries with well-maintained and adequately resourced healthcare infrastructure.

Brain drain can also be linked to the frustration healthcare professionals experience due to a lack of basic tools and resources necessary for their work. Insufficient funding for maintaining and upgrading healthcare facilities creates an environment that fails to attract and retain skilled professionals.

Funding issues in the Nigerian health sector have led to inadequate remuneration and poor working conditions for healthcare professionals. Doctors and nurses are often given meagre salaries, delayed payments, and a lack of essential benefits despite their importance in society.

The financial strain, coupled with challenging working conditions, can serve as a powerful motivator for them to seek opportunities abroad, where they can be better compensated and work in more conducive environments.

Several organisations in Nigeria have lamented funding issues and poor remuneration of our healthcare personnel. The Joint Health Sector Union (JOHESU), the Nigerian Association of Resident Doctors (NARD) and the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) have organised strikes and issued ultimatums to the federal government to improve the nation’s health sector.

Last year, NARD asked the federal government to declare a state of emergency for the health sector. The NMA also spoke out against the federal government’s decision to implement a no-work, no-pay plan in response to an indefinite strike by NARD.

The lack of funding allocated to training and development programs within the Nigerian health sector also contributes to the brain drain crisis. Healthcare professionals want to seek continuous learning opportunities and career advancement. However, insufficient funds for training limit their growth within the country.

The scarcity of adequate professional development investments harms local talent retention. It encourages healthcare professionals to pursue opportunities abroad, where they can further their education and skill sets.

A united effort is needed to address funding challenges and combat brain drain in Nigeria’s health sector. Boosting investments in healthcare can create an environment that will retain and lure back skilled professionals. The federal and state governments can implement some of these strategies to mitigate the impact of brain drain:

Remuneration Improvements: Increase healthcare professionals’ salaries and benefits to make them more competitive on an international scale. Ensure timely salary payments address concerns about delayed payments, a common issue among healthcare workers.

Enhanced Working Conditions: Allocate sufficient funds to improve healthcare facilities, ensuring modern and well-maintained conditions, comfortable accommodations, and safe working environments—investment in technology and equipment to ensure that healthcare professionals have access to state-of-the-art tools and resources.

Investment in Training and Development: Funds should be allocated for continuous professional development programs to enhance the skills of healthcare professionals.
Establish partnerships with educational institutions to provide healthcare workers with ongoing training and learning opportunities.

Research and Innovation Grants: Create funding for local medical research and innovations to attract professionals interested in making healthcare advancements. Provide research grants to healthcare professionals, encouraging them to stay in Nigeria while pursuing groundbreaking research.

Infrastructure Development: Allocate funds for the construction, renovation, and maintenance of healthcare infrastructures (hospitals, clinics, and other healthcare facilities). Equip healthcare facilities with modern technology and the resources to provide quality patient care.

Telemedicine and E-Health Initiatives: Allocate funds for telemedicine and e-health initiatives to enhance the accessibility and appeal of healthcare services to professionals. Invest in technology infrastructure to support telehealth services, reducing the need for healthcare workers to relocate physically.

Community Engagement and Support: Fund community programs to raise awareness about the importance of healthcare professionals in local communities. Establish support networks and incentives for healthcare professionals, including housing assistance, transportation, and other benefits.

Long-Term Strategic Planning: Implement and develop long-term plans for the healthcare sector, ensuring sustained and increased funding over time. Regularly assess funding needs and adjust budget allocations to address emerging challenges and opportunities.

Last line

Undeniably, the brain drain crisis in Nigeria’s health sector is strongly linked to constant funding challenges over the years. Concrete efforts and strategic investments in the healthcare system are essential to reverse this trend.

Adequate funding can improve infrastructure, enhance working conditions, and provide opportunities for professional growth, ultimately stemming the tide of skilled professionals leaving the country.

By addressing the root causes of brain drain through increased funding, Nigeria can build a more resilient and sustainable healthcare sector that meets the needs of its population.

Aishat M. Abisola is an NYSC member serving with PRNigeria Centre Abuja.

By Aliyu Musa Dada

Today, I want to bring our attention to a heartbreaking incident that highlights the shortcomings in our government’s support system. Dr. Tijjani Ibrahim, a young and dedicated medical doctor, fought bravely against decompensated chronic liver disease caused by Hepatitis B infection.

Despite the efforts of his friends to raise funds for his treatment, Dr Ibrahim tragically passed away before realising the required amount. This unfortunate event raises serious concerns about lacking a robust system to assist individuals, even those tirelessly dedicated to serving others, like Dr. Ibrahim.

We, as citizens, deserve a government that prioritises the well-being of its people, especially those in critical need of medical support. It is disheartening to witness the struggles faced by individuals who have dedicated their lives to saving others, only to be let down by a system that fails to provide adequate assistance.

Dr. Ibrahim’s passing is a stark reminder of the urgent need for reforms and investment in healthcare infrastructure. It should not rely solely on the goodwill and generosity of friends and well-wishers to fund essential medical treatments. Our government should be responsible for ensuring accessible and affordable healthcare for all citizens, especially those in dire situations.

In this moment of grief, let us remember Dr. Ibrahim as a compassionate and dedicated doctor who selflessly served his patients until the end. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family and friends during this difficult time.

May Dr. Tijjani Ibrahim’s soul rest in peace, and may his legacy inspire us to advocate for change. Let us raise our voices and demand better support systems for individuals facing medical challenges.

We must unite as a community to address these issues and hold our government accountable. We can start by engaging in constructive conversations, raising awareness about the gaps in healthcare support, and urging policymakers to prioritise the well-being of their citizens.

Remember, change begins with us. Let us honour Dr. Ibrahim’s memory by actively working towards a healthcare system that provides timely and accessible support for all those in need.

By Fadhila Nuruddeen Muhammad

The journey towards becoming a doctor often begins in childhood, driven by a deep desire to help others and positively impact people’s lives. For many, like myself, the path may take unexpected turns, leading to different callings. I recall my childhood fascination with medicine, even playfully emulating the role of a doctor in my school days, using improvised tools such as cloth face masks and hand gloves to “perform surgery” on classmates’ pens. I’d then transfer the ink from one tube to another, all to save my classmates from running out of ink. Life has a way of guiding us, and for me, that path led to journalism.

Tijjani Ibrahim, however, followed his childhood passion to become a committed and dedicated young medical doctor. His journey was filled with promise, but it took an unfortunate turn when he was diagnosed with advanced Chronic Liver Disease, Liver Cirrhosis, a consequence of Hepatitis B Viral Infection in June 2023.

Dr Aisha Danbatta, a medical consultant at Murtala Muhammad Specialist Hospital, explained Hepatitis B as a global health challenge that targets the liver, causing both acute and chronic illnesses. “This virus can be transmitted through various means, such as from mother to child, unscreened blood transfusions, exposure to contaminated materials, sexual contact with an infected partner, and even through saliva. Unlike HIV, Hepatitis B has a longer lifespan, making it easier to transmit.”

Dr Danbatta emphasised the prevalence of undiagnosed cases due to a lack of immunisation, leaving many unaware of their condition. Those diagnosed often struggle to afford vital tests like viral load measurements, which determine the quantity of the virus in the blood and assess the extent of liver damage. Physical examinations, ultrasounds, and fibroscans are also crucial in evaluating liver fibrosis and scarring monitoring the progression of the disease.

Dr Tijjani was first at the National Hospital, Abuja, where he was doing his house job and diagnosed with Liver Cirrhosis at the same hospital in June this year. The cost of his treatment was quite high, and he could not afford it. The National Hospital Abuja could only support his medical bills by creating an official memo. He was later transferred to Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital in Kano.

Hamza Danyaro, a friend of the late Dr Tijjani Ibrahim, explained that “his return to Kano was motivated by the hope that the National Medical Association (NMA) Kano State chapter could provide support. However, it was revealed that to benefit from their assistance, he needed to complete his National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), pay his dues, and work for at least a month or two before becoming eligible.”

“Tijjanii was not strong enough to go through these. Instead, we rallied to seek help from dignitaries such as politicians, the House of Representatives members of his local government in Kumbotso, and organisations. Unfortunately, the lengthy protocols inherent in today’s politics prevented direct outreach,” Danyaro added.

Tijjani was left with no other option than to seek funds. His friends organised the fundraising. The campaign was expected to raise a sense of urgency and necessity to help support a young medical doctor with funds to support his medical bills. This kind of transparency can prompt people to contribute to the cause. But only a tiny amount was raised after several days of campaigns.

Fauziyya D. Sulaiman, a philanthropist with a heart of gold, shared her disappointment on social media, writing, “It’s unfortunate that despite our community boasting politicians and business leaders among us, we couldn’t muster N25,000,000 to support Tijjani. If this were about some trivial matter, you would have seen some of us at the forefront. This is undeniably a disgrace.”

Dr Khalid Sunusi Kani, a medical doctor and health advocate, penned an open letter addressed to President Bola Ahmad Tinubu through Solacebase online newspaper. In this heartfelt letter, he expressed the critical need for Dr Tijjani Ibrahim’s services in Nigeria, emphasising the pressing issues within the country’s healthcare sector and the alarming rate of “brain drain syndrome.”

He wrote, “Your Excellency, Nigerians too are in desperate need of his services, looking at the manpower deficit in the health sector and the rate at which we suffer from ‘brain drain syndrome.’ I strongly believe Nigeria and Nigerians are unprepared and cannot afford to lose someone like Dr. Tijjani Ibrahim.”

Chronic Hepatitis B places individuals at a high risk of cirrhosis and liver cancer, leading to severe health consequences. In July 2023, the World Health Organization revealed that 296 million people were living with chronic hepatitis B infection in 2019, with 1.5 million new conditions occurring yearly. While there is no specific treatment for acute hepatitis B, medicines can effectively slow the progression of cirrhosis, reduce the incidence of liver cancer, and improve long-term survival.

Dr Tijjani Ibrahim died on September 6, 2023. His dedication to the medical field and his efforts to make a difference in the lives of others will be remembered and cherished.

Witnessing a doctor who devoted his life to saving countless others facing such challenging circumstances is genuinely disheartening. He dedicated his life to the mantra of ‘One Life, One Liver,’ yet our society struggled to come together to save his life. In a world where trivial issues on social media can garner an astonishing number of likes, it’s heartbreaking that Tijjani needed just 25,000 people to contribute a mere dollar each or someone who can just pay the total amount.

Tijjani’s story serves as a poignant reminder of the power of collective action and the importance of rallying together to support those in need, especially those who have dedicated their lives to serving others. Let us reflect on this unfortunate situation and take it as a call to action. Together, we can make a difference and ensure that the heroes who dedicate their lives to saving others do not suffer in silence.

“One Life, One Liver”: A heartfelt tribute to a fallen hero leaving an indelible mark on the world. May Allah rest his soul, amin.

Fadhila Nuruddeen Muhammad is a social media influencer based in Kano and can be reached via fadhilamuhd@gmail.com.

By Bello Hussein Adoto

Medicine is a sacred profession where trust is vital. Yet, fakes and their accomplices undermine this trust and put everyone at risk. Medical doctors must stand up and sanitise the system first by not promoting quackery.

Meet Abawulor Omenka, a 35-year-old Nigerian who made headlines after presenting a second-class upper degree in Medicine and Surgery to Covenant University Medical Centre, Ota, Ogun state, for employment.

For those who don’t know, medical degrees are not classified. It is either you pass or you don’t. There is no first-, second-, or third-class, as you have in education, law, engineering, and pharmacy programmes.

So, for Mr. Omenka to present a second-class upper degree shows something was wrong. True to suspicion, he was found to be a fake doctor and handed over to the police. Omenka’s case is symptomatic of how doctors contribute to quackery, deliberate or not.

The role of doctors in quackery is subtle yet significant. For instance, Omenka, in his interview, talked about the different hospitals he has worked for. One of his interviewers told The Punch, “…he (Omenka) had worked at the hospital owned by some of our colleagues that we know. We put a call across to them, and two of them actually confirmed that they knew him very well. I told them he was trying to apply as a medical officer, and they told me he worked with them as an auxiliary nurse or, better put, as a hospital assistant.”

Imagine if he had earlier been reported to the police or the Nigerian Medical Association and removed from circulation. He wouldn’t have had the guts to apply to be a medical officer at a hospital.

Beyond that, doctors should not allow their hard-earned certificates and licenses to be used to register clinics run by unqualified individuals. Many quacks wouldn’t have had clinics to experiment on patients without doctors registering the clinics for them.

The practice of quacks using a doctor’s license to operate their clinics is well established. As Professor Shima Gyoh, a former provost of Benue State University College of Health Sciences, told the International Centre for Investigative Reporting, “A lot of these illegal clinics are run by cleaners in the hospitals; I knew some who started clinics without approval. What they do is you start a clinic, you ask a doctor to stand behind you and register the clinic in his name, then you pay the doctor something. Instead of the doctor inspecting what you are doing, he does not do that, and then you continue to run your clinic independently. Yet, you are not a doctor.”

Moreover, doctors are honourable people who should not be found near quacks and quackery. Yet, some doctors help quacks run their clinics. The quack will open a clinic and handle common illnesses while the trained doctor comes in for the severe ones. This partnership gives the quack a veneer of legitimacy, which allows him to attract more patients and handle even bigger cases.

Another factor is economical. I know things can be challenging for doctors, especially those in private practice. They must establish standard hospitals, hire competent staff, meet regulatory standards, and offer quality services. All these cost money.

Nevertheless, the need to balance the chequebook does not excuse hiring untrained hands as cheap labour or training them to become health workers themselves. The male trainees graduate to become ‘doctors,’ while the female ones are called ‘auxiliary nurses.’ Whatever that means.

Let’s be clear. I don’t have a beef with medical doctors. If anything, I am grateful for their remarkable job in the face of limited resources and an overwhelming workload. My aim is to call on them to sit up and excise this cancer eating into their noble profession.

Of course, fakes are not exclusive to the medical profession. Bogus certificates and fake professionals are around us in the form of fake doctors, fake lawyers, fake soldiers, fake engineers.

Nevertheless, patients place enormous trust on their caregivers and doctors should know better than to endorse quackery. They are trained, more than most, to know the value of health and wellness and respect the sanctity of their patients.

They have read tonnes of materials, done lots of practicals, and spent years doing exams upon exams to show they have studied human functionality and diseases and can apply the training to treat people. They shouldn’t be found contributing to quackery in any form.

Medicine should have no room for quackery. Human life is too sacred, and the burden of care is too great for those not qualified by training, experience, and certification to play poker.

One could say that doctors and non-clinical health workers can work together in a task-shifting, task-sharing arrangement. This way, routine, low-skill tasks can be shifted to health workers like community health extension workers (CHEWs) and health technicians so that we can have better use of our depleted workforce and ensure that everyone gets quality healthcare. I agree with this arrangement.

In a task-shifting, task-sharing arrangement, everyone knows their job. However, what some doctors do currently is not task-shifting or task-sharing. What they do instead is aiding and abetting an aberration fast becoming a norm. This needs to stop.

Bello Hussein writes from Ilorin via bellohussein210@gmail.com

By Bello Hussein Adoto

A few days after someone glibly told me that the grass was greener in Nigeria, a young medical doctor Dr Diaso Vwaere was crushed to death in an elevator accident at the General Hospital in Odan, Lagos State.

Netizens and other persons who have worked at the hospital said they complained about the malfunctioning elevator for years, but the management did nothing tangible to address it. So the young female doctor, with two weeks to complete her housemanship, took the elevator to retrieve a dispatch—a food package—on the ground floor. She never made it.

I imagine her in the elevator anticipating the food she ordered, salivating, getting ready to devour her food, and returning to her busy schedule as a house officer. I imagine her standing on the elevator, weightless, as it moves.

Then it snapped. Suddenly, the metal box is crashing down from the 10th floor all the way to the ground. Imagine her now in the elevator, weightless, as it falls freely. Imagine her grasp at everything and anything, something to break her fall. Then, bam, it crashed. Imagine her now.

What do you think she would have felt? She was trapped in the rubble. The package she was going to retrieve was less of a worry. Her call can wait. The world can wait. Now, she needed freedom, a way out of the rubble. She needed air. The wreckage is choking.

While in the rubble, time trickled. Seconds must have felt like a decade, minutes like forever. Time trickled. One, two, three… 40 minutes. She was there for 40 minutes before help came. She was out, finally. Ahhh, some relief.

Anyone could have been in that elevator. It could have been a patient, doctor, nurse, relative, or even you, my reader. It could have been a visitor, like the state governor or the CMD. Would this incident have made any difference? I wonder.

A consultant once said it’s better to have a heart attack on the streets of London than in the corridors of a teaching hospital in Nigeria, and I thought that was ridiculous. From what I have seen in recent times, he was not wrong. It is not impossible. We are all at our own’s risk.

Those who should provide the basic oversight at the hospital, from government officials to the hospital management and staff, seem to have other businesses than their jobs. That’s why the elevator could be so bad as to take a life before they consider fixing it. Do we need the president, governor, or minister of health to come and fix it too? What happened to the hospital management?

The elevator accident happened at a hospital big enough to have house officers, ten floors, and elevators. It is a big hospital, indeed, by every standard. Yet there was no blood to rescue Dr Diaso. Some said there was no morphine, emergency supplies, or cotton wool. The last part could have been a stretch, but I have seen resident doctors protest that there was no normal saline, which should be as common as sachet water. Yet…

When patients come to hospitals, and these supplies are not available, and they cannot afford them, they turn on the doctors and nurses that are equally helpless. A soldier beat my friend’s wife, a nurse at Sobi Specialist Hospital, some time ago because she asked him to get delivery packs for his wife’s delivery. Last December, patient relatives at the University of Ilorin Teaching Hospital pinned a doctor to the wall. They beat him because they thought their father was dying and he wasn’t helping. Meanwhile, they were asked to do a test they had yet to do.

These incidents happened in tertiary hospitals where we should expect—sorry, hope—that things are better, where supplies were available for patients to use and pay later. But they aren’t. What is the hope of someone in a rural area?

I wonder what would happen if someone fell off a storey building in Obehira, where I grew up, or Ikuehi, my hometown. What would be their fates? They may have to be referred to the recently built Reference Hospital in Okene. Will they fare any better there?

Back to Dr Diaso, the doctor in the elevator accident. She survived the crash but not the injuries she sustained. She was severely injured and needed blood. “There was no blood available for resuscitation,” wrote the Lagos branch of the Nigerian Medical Association. There she was in the hospital. She had spent 11 months and two weeks on calls, attending to patients, saving lives, unable to be resuscitated because there was no blood. She died. She died in the institution where she served.

They say the grass is greener here. Who is watering the grass?

Bello Hussein sent this piece via bellohussein210@gmail.com.

By Uzair Adam Imam 

The Nigeria Medical Association (NMA) lamented that no fewer than fifty medical doctors leave Nigeria for better jobs abroad every week. 

NMA also decried the wave of brain drain that recently hit Nigeria’s health sector. 

Dr Rowland Ojinmah, the National President of NMA, disclosed this to journalists during the opening ceremony of 2022 Abia Physicians’ Week. 

Lamenting the sad development, Ojinmah urged the government to intervene and end the worrisome trend. 

It was gathered that the poor working conditions of doctors in Nigeria would be unconnected to why the doctors decided to leave the country. 

Ojinmah asked the government to fix the hospitals if they truly wanted to reverse the trend.

He stated,” The Governors are sleeping; They should not be waiting for the Federal Government alone. 

They should fix General Hospitals in their states to take care of the health needs of the citizenry at the local levels”.