Today, I cried. No, I wasn’t flogged but I cried. I cried for the many times I had encountered near deaths, illnesses and other unpleasant situations and through it all God brought me out unscarred. I cried because I realise how ungrateful we all are sometimes. Because we complain about the lack of mundane things and fail to show appreciation for the essentials handed to us on a platter of gold.
I think about all those mornings I snooze for an extra 10minutes a total of 3 times before I finally get out of bed thereby saying so short a prayer I cannot remember once I jump into the bath!
I think about the many times I witnessed accidents on 3rd mainland bridge and many of the other death traps we refer to as highways. I remember the journeys I have made within and outside the city, times my flight experienced turbulence and through it all I am still here.
The last 4 weeks have been really eventful for me. I have been happy, sad and indifferent; but isn’t that what life’s about. An acquaintance from my undergrad days passed away a day before she was to resume at an oil company in Lekki; she had been job hunting since 2008.
Sadly, last week we had met and spoken briefly at the airport in Abuja. Her mum found my card in her purse and called to inquire if she owed me as the family wanted to settle all her debts before the burial.
I’m just reading the story of Olajuwura Amoo-Onidundu and that’s what made me cry. Last month I had some medical issues to deal with but I was strong enough to get into an argument with the nurse. She had cut open the syringe before my entry into the injection room so I insisted a new one be used. When the matron intervened she said, ‘it would amount to waste of resources’, I then retorted with an indifferent look that if my HMO plan can’t cover the cost of an extra syringe then I’ll pay cash!
Since the introduction of HMOs, healthcare delivery seems to have nosedived even at the so called ‘good private hospitals’. A colleague was recently asked if he wanted silver, gold or platinum treatment after being diagnosed of malaria at the hospital. Apparently, the class of treatment he chooses would determine the type of drugs to be prescribed, recovery timeline and ultimately the bill!
I won’t even mention government hospitals where you have to run around to buy everything from gloves to syringe and injection, drip etc; God help you if you’re in labour and there’s no family member in sight; well, you can tip a student doctor to help you. I know this from a friend’s labour experience at LASUTH/Ayinke Hospital.
All in all, I believe we, as a people, as a nation still have a chance to get better. To correct the anomalies, seize the future and make it truly ours. You and I can start by being truthful and faithful in all our dealings.
Have a fabulous weekend!
The original post for today EXPATRIATE IN THE BUILDING would be up next week!