I used the opportunity of an ailing man being wheeled into the theatre to buzz my way amidst the confusion into the hospital. Now in, I buzzed around freely wondering whether it was the lack of finesse or the confusion that trailed the accidental entrance that made them wheel him in in such a rusty stretcher.
Once in the theatre, a family member was asked to go and make payment to process his admission. Shouldn’t such have been nearby for emergency purposes? Or perhaps, administration could have waited till later. But I guess dying or dead, protocol is protocol at GHL. Off I went with her to the payment office... An office accessed via 3 cubicles; first she had to make it through the queue to make the payment. Receipt in hand, she went to the second cubicle to record the payment. Then she moved to the third cubicle where she received a small card. Off she went to the records department where a folder was opened. Even though the card says not to be handled by patients, same was given to the confused woman who rushed with the folder almost knocking off one or two passersby in the process. But why the hurry, the man remained on the stretcher as nurses and aides offer comforting comments. “Sorry daddy, the doctors will soon be here; they have gone to call them from ward round”. “Ha, you must be in so much pain, but you have to be a man”... “Madam, he will need blood o”, said one nurse to the woman still clutching the folder, “You should make arrangement for that”. The nuurse collected the folder and went about her business like blood can be sourced from the pure gutter - sorry – water seller outside. Not only did she look confused, I bet she had no idea where to get blood or what blood group of family member she should go in search of. An hour gone by since arrival; though the man is still sprawled on the stretcher, he appeared stable I buzzed off to another unit.
Here in the Physio-wing things seem to be moving alright except that almost everyone who complained about back or upper body pain got sold neck collars. Even though one can read here and there that cash is only to be paid to the official “bank”, folks don’t have a minute to think as they focus on wellness. As a patient made payment for his neck collar, I heard another grumbling that he ended up using his for two days! Perhaps there should be money back guarantee for unused or fairly used collars. As I listened to interactions which included doctors talking down at patients, I buzzed off towards a mid-age woman being wheeled away in a rickety wheelchair by her brother. Shouldn’t they have nursing aides? Not knowing the route, the brother who had a folder under his arm ended up jabbing the chair here and there as the woman screamed with every drive into pot holes or ditches. Shouldn’t this entire place be wheel chair accessible?
Finally, they arrived at one of the female wards where the matron in charge refused admittance on the basis that the woman should have been accompanied by a nurse who would explain the new inmate’s diagnosis. Off the brother went, leaving his sister who was by now in so much pain from the rough ride on the wheel chair. Thank God, the nurse came in a jiffy; absolving herself of blame, she explained that the patient took off on her own. The conversation did not take 3 minutes but the patient had to hang in a dead wheel chair while the brother made the round trip to get the nurse.
The admission done, patient was conned into buying an un-hemmed piece of white cloth as approved cover cloth and a night dress. The patient was too glad to finally find a resting place that she couldn’t care less about the faded bed sheet which bore the brand name of a nearby church. As I buzzed off with the woman’s brother, I wondered why such a faded glory still had a pride of place here. Why not? The beds and lockers are rusty, the windows are dusty, the nets harbour flies and mosquitoes; I guess faded and dingy go together.
As he drove off, I wondered why such a seemingly comfortable person would choose GHL, just then an angry guest lamented, “If not that they have medical specialists here, what will I be doing here! After wasting all our time now they are saying we should have gone to Island Maternity. You see what this girl has decided to put me through.” She beckoned to the nursing aide to bring her teenage daughter who appeared to be pregnant. As they crossed the road, I buzzed after them but they stopped in their tracks as they got to the gate. “Where is this gateman?” Someone shouted. A minute, two, three... but no sight of him, “My sister, you may have to stand up”, “I am very weak”, she complained. Just then a good Samaritan walked by, “Why don’t we carry her?” They lifted the wheel chair through the pedestrian gate only to be faced with a bigger problem of how to wheel the chair through the packed cars. Shouldn’t the entrance to a maternity home or any hospital at that be obstruction free? I was getting hungry so I made my way through the kitchen feeding fat on the lack of hygiene.
Now fully fed, I buzzed around the GHL and LIMH environment observing abandoned vehicles, overgrown grass, dilapidated areas... Just then the rain began and I took refuge under a dingy car. What a blessing! The rain took forever and I wondered how work may have been grounded by this outpouring. An idea flashed through my mind, what if all the halls were linked by covered walkways. What if there was an overhead pedestrian bridge that linked GHL to LIMH so that visitors, outpatients and patients do not require crossing or wheeling across the road.
Well rested, it was time to return to secret service. As I made my way through the side entrance of LIMH at about 1am, strewn on the floor were bodies of men and women in scattered symmetry. Some laid on the bench or on bare floor others on wrappers or mats. They seem set to spend the night. On my way towards the Emergency Unit, a woman stood clutching the door as her mother came forward to request for a wheel chair; with none in site, she began to walk towards the EU. Pain and ache was written all over her as she moved one step, two steps in snail speed with her hands behind her back for support. The pain became unbearable at which point she had to be supported by a good Samaritan to make the journey through to the EU.
To my shock, the nurse on duty was sleeping! Not a light nap but deep, deep, sleep with light snoring. The mother to the patient tried to call her to life to no avail. After what seem like ten minutes, taps on the shoulder brought her to life. She shook off the sleep and began to attend to the patient in a somewhat professional way confirming that she would be attended to when the doctor arrived. But come to think of it all she did was make the patient comfortable on the bare bed; no first aide, no analgesic and to say this is EU!
If I knew that the sleepy lady with one trouser leg rolled up like an area woman is the medical intern they waited about an hour to see while the doctor snored away in the lounge, I really wouldn’t have bothered. Little did I know that my horror tale was just beginning.
Omolola Anne Famuyiwa is Project Director of Cares Global Network.
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