Firsthand experience as a patient's relative

Rather than being on my toes pursuing patients's test results as a house officer in Nigeria, I was fortunate to have my internship at a facility that permitted us to have direct interaction with patients. You can't really blame us in developing countries like Nigeria; you are groomed to hastily adapt to emergencies, thus exhausting all available medics for patient care. Unlike the teaching hospital in my state, where house officers were literally called 'house boys', my internship was at the state general hospital. I was less exposed to senior doctors, as most of them were overwhelmed with work. I only related to them when I lacked understanding of a procedure or disease condition.

The young-looking me was the doctor you'll probably meet and have your needs attended to if you visit the State General Hospital in 2017. It is unlike patients in that they lament how frequently we prescribed medications, which were often as required by the patient.

"Why can't the doctor just prescribe everything at once, and must it always be at night?" I heard an old lady murmur loudly while I passed by the emergency room of the hospital. Doctors and other medics were the witches that stayed awake every night, however, for good. Unfortunately, the pharmacy section was less stocked with drugs, which is a problem with many government hospitals here in Nigeria. The patient's relative would have to probably step outside of the hospital premises to obtain the medications prescribed, even if it was in the middle of the night, depending on the emergency.

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The profession requires keen attention and the ability to know when to hold back drugs and when to go all out. I have always been the type to hold back on drug prescriptions unless the need is obvious or outweighs the chances of recovery. Fast forward to the early parts of this month, March 2024. I had a patient admitted to the state general hospital where I once worked. My history as a previous staff member became relevant in some sections of the hospital; however, I experienced the brunt of being a relative. The doctors were not always around, and the lower cadre staff had their busy work schedules; thus, I had to sort myself out by going to the pharmacy to purchase the drugs prescribed. The most frequent place I visited was the laboratory section, where I had to hustle and arrange for pints of blood on different occasions. The revenue staff neither knew I was a doctor nor a former staff member of the hospital. I had to step out of the hospital premises on two different occasions to withdraw money from the point of sale (POS) machine, something I could have been asked to do at once. My exhaustion was at its peak and the constant headaches with body aches overwhelmed me.

I remember being awoken at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning when my sleep was sweetest. I have a knack for early morning sleep.

"Doctor, you need to come and sort out blood for Paul (actual name withheld)." The laboratory technician said this to me over the phone.

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"Alright, thank you." I replied. I knew she was doing me a favor because securing a pint of blood was a Herculean task, even if money was involved. I made a quick call to Paul's foster mom, who stayed with him over the night, but she didn't pick up. Grudgingly and with a grumble, I stood up from my comfort zone when the day was yet to break, experiencing firsthand a taste of my own medicine. I drove down to the hospital, which was about twenty minutes away, and, thankfully, secured the fourth pint for Paul, who had taken three earlier within the week. I was dissatisfied with having to walk within the hospital premises once again, like a night crawler.

My only consolation was the expression of joy I saw on Paul's face when I secured the pint of blood and presented it to him. It was as though his best meal had just been presented to him. I left the hospital about two hours later, longing to continue my early morning sleep that had just been interrupted.