Wednesday 5 March 2014

Memories: all we have

A week ago, I received the news of the death of a dear person with sadness and anguish. I would have written this post sooner,  but grief wouldn't let me. I had to wait for the anger in me to subside. I was told initially that she had malaria and had died in the hospital while being treated. It sounded both crazy and unbelievable to me, malaria? Really? Just how bad was it to take the life of someone so young and sweet?...
My aunt as I called her, died in a supposedly "good" hospital due to wrong diagnosis. She was tested and diagnosed with malaria on Sunday the 23rd of february, given medications, and told to go back home. At 4am the next day, she was rushed back to the same hospital. This time, she was admitted and they wasted no time in passing drips into her body. One crazy thing I can't seem to get over though is how long it took the laboratory to get a patient's test result. It was later discovered that afternoon that she had actually been battling with diabetes, and that her sugar level was too high. This is an hospital she had been using for years, she had her 2 kids there and it was more of a family hospital for them. Sad, and all the doctors could say is that they were sorry. My aunt died that evening of february 24th after collecting 22drips (in less than 15hours), at the very tender age of 31. Survived by her father, siblings, husband (who was also her bestfriend), her 21 months old daughter, and her very cute 5month old son...
Inalilahi wainalilahi rajiun

This event touched me a lot, to the core... thinking of how neglectful some of our hospitals are in this country. They waste people's lives at will, and without remorse. It is bad enough that the insecurity in this country claims lives on daily basis, but what excuse do the people we trust to save us have for killing us? You took an oath to "have up-most respect for human life", and you are trusted fully. We run to these people at the slightest ache, because we believe in them. How can some of these doctors sleep knowing they were the sole reason why people died? Who, in his right mind prescribes 22drips for a patient in one day? Even if it were malaria, does it sound sane?

This takes me back 6years...
In 2008, I had just completed my 3rd year in Igbinedion. I remember it vividly like yesterday, how happy I was that I would be in my final year in a few months. I had only been home on holiday for a week, when I had a crisis. A crisis in September wasn't normal for me, but who knows?.... I had shared a piece of cake with my sister the night of the 13th and while everyone slept, I was writhing in pains. My chest had started troubling me more than any other joint lately, and I couldn't breathe properly. I remember staying awake, trying to manage myself till at least 4 am when I could go wake my parents. At 2am however, I gave up hiding the pain and woke my parents. They wasted no time in rushing me to the nearest "good" hospital at such a dangerous time. I still remember my father's anger that no doctor attended to me for almost 30mins after we got there, saying the head doctor wasn't in yet. It was only after my father tried to take me out of there that they finally admitted me and tried to keep me hydrated. I was given some pain relievers, and I could barely sleep through that night. In the morning, my sis n cousin came to check up on me and I recall laughing with them regardless of the pain I was in. The nurse came in to give me some drugs, and injection shortly after... that was the last thing I remember... Until I woke up about 2weeks later in another hospital, weak and tired.
I later found out that I was given an overdose of a certain drug, that drove me into a coma. The owner and head doctor of the hospital then urged my parents to remove me from their hospital as they "wouldn't want a patient to die in their care. There was nothing they could do anymore, and they doubt it if the girl would make it". By the time my parents got me to my now hospital, the doctors said half my cells were dead. I was in seclusion all through the period I was in coma, with 5lines passing through various veins and machines keeping me alive. By the grace of God, I survived and I woke up. My parents were then told that my pcv was about 5%, and sent on a wild goose chase for blood. I must have taken about 10pints of blood, and excreted them. They told me that no-one could survive with a pcv lower than 11%, but I did. September to November 2008 was a very stormy and trying period for me. Survival was uncertain at first, but eventually I came through it all with smiles and my head held high. I have not stepped foot anywhere near that hospital till this day, with a constant thought that I should have sued them the minute I woke up. Everyone tells me to be grateful that they rejected me at the hospital, but people fail to answer me when I ask if it's right!
Alhamdulillah.....