Majority have attested to several bad and lackadaisical attitudes of government workers at government hospitals, and just weeks ago, my turn to be a victim of the inhumane act deigned on me. Come along as I share my firsthand witness and my short experience in the hands of the unkind people entrusted with the lives of Nigerians.
It was a fresh Thurday morning of nauseating and sick feeling strolling majestically on the road of my body. I felt very sick on Wednesday night to the extent that the thoughts of death became prominent in my thought’s power house and I became timid because my immune system at that point was close to feeble. As usual, when in pains, I recite the verse of protection and I did so while in critical condition. I didn’t know what happened next but I woke up alive the next morning and joy gripped my heart as I yawned sluggishly to a new morning.
As a sharp boy who doesn’t want to die untimely, I searched for my hospital card, moved straight to the general hospital and I met the constant phenomenon, ‘Long Queue’. I joined the longest queue in Ikorodu at that point, submitted my card for verification and I got verified to proceed to the ‘check point’ where patients blood pressure will be checked before waiting to see the doctor. I passed through the tardy process while in severe pains. Alas! it got to my turn and I was excited to see the doctor like I’ll get healed with the speed of light.
My excitement reduced tempo due to the sluggish attitude of the doctor, who asked few questions like she was forced to work that fateful morning coupled with her terrible ‘I don’t care attitude’, and in the end, she gave me a pamphlet stating to proceed to the laboratory for test. I passed through stage one and it was stage two, ‘the process’, I proceeded to the point of payment and made a payment of N3,000 for the test. Payment done, I proceeded to the lab and the sample of my blood was taken, stage two passed!
Just like our mobile games gets harder by stages, they give us new tasks and sometimes, serve us surprises and that was the theme of my stage three.
SURPRISE!. ‘Come back for result on Monday’, these words crawled through the mouth of the laboratory worker and I was not sure she was talking to me. ‘Ma, I’m very sick, I need the result as soon as possible to get medications. Is there anything you can do to help me?’ I said, trying to convince the laboratory worker on the need to get my test results quickly due to my condition, she didn’t care, she said it’s not in her power to do.
Following the surprise, I got frustrated and I moved to the doctor’s office to report my situation; like lab worker, like doctor. The doctor still wore this nonchalant attitude on her face. She told me to go back, saying ‘I need the results today or tomorrow morning’. I didn’t know what to do because I was frustrated already, what if I die tomorrow? What if my condition gets worse than I expect? What if I break down? These thoughts got me infuriated and I told the doctor ‘Ma, what about temporary drugs? With the same nonchalant look, she prescribed one drug, the name started with ‘P’, I couldn’t decode the drug’s name due to the acclaimed ‘artistic doctor writing’.
Without much ado, I branched at the laboratory to tender the lab worker the feedback I got from the doctor, ‘The doctor said she needs the results today or tomorrow, I said; she replied, ‘go to the main laboratory’. In response, I asked thrice, ‘where’s the main laboratory Ma?, You won’t believe this woman kept mute, transforming me into a radio set. With so much anger and frustration, I left the office peacefully with this statement flowing in my head ‘it’s God that will you judge you people’. Never give up! I tried finding my way to the main laboratory through the front desk officer of the hospital, I got to the main laboratory but I didn’t know what to do, so I left with tears dancing on the floor of my face gently. I cried, wiped my tears, cried again, wiped my tears.
Well… My last hope! While wiping the little tears on my face, I rushed to the pharmacy to get the ‘P’ drug that was prescribed by the doctor. I tendered the pamphlet to the attendant, she said, ‘You don’t have paracetamol in your house?’ You won’t believe the doctor prescribed Paracetamol for me. I was shocked the doctor could be this mean and petty!, This got me angry, frustrated and demoralised. I left the pharmacy with anger, I cried subsequently while in severe pains but as a ‘man’ they claim I am, I left the premises calmly, cursing the hospital with anger.
‘Go to the pharmacy, get ‘Camosunate’, my dad prescribed the drug in a phone conversation after sharing what had happened earlier at the hospital. With enthusiasm, I ‘maned up’, rushed to the nearest pharmacy, used the drug and that was how my Dad saved my immune system for the weekend.
Murisiku Amure (Earpiece of Lagos)