The tragic and sudden death of Abdul Imoyo, the media relations manager of Access Corporation, the holding company of Access Bank, last week was yet again a painful addition to the long list of people well-known to me who have passed away in recent months. Abdul was a fine PR professional, versatile business journalist and a decent human being. His friends and colleagues in the Association of Corporate Affairs Managers of Banks (ACAMB) have been particularly inconsolable. I extend my condolences to them and the Access Bank family. I knew Abdul over 22 years ago when I worked as the head of corporate communications in a bank and he was a business correspondent at Vanguard newspaper.
He was a deeply knowledgeable, smart and nifty reporter. Among his colleagues, Abdul stood out in his comportment and a good sense of personal integrity. I always looked forward to his visits to my 16th-floor office on Marina, Lagos. Over two decades later, fate brought us closer again, this time with a somewhat role reversal. Managing my own media consultancy, I was the one doing the visits to his 14th-floor office.
It was also very helpful that I had worked in Access Bank before he arrived, and by some good fortune, the executives there, particularly Dr. Herbert Wigwe, has continued to show me unusual kindness. So, when I saw a post on Facebook last Sunday announcing Abdul’s death, I instinctively contacted Dr. Wigwe, who promptly confirmed it. Devasted, I reached out to other management staff. They were overwhelmed with grief, coming a few weeks after the shocking death of their board chairman. Abdul’s death has been so painful.
I saw him last on May 24 at the AGM of the Corporation at Federal Palace Hotel, Victoria Island, Lagos. We shook hands and embraced as usual. Above the din in the hall, he whispered to me, ‘’You know, I always take your matter personal’’. I understood what he meant and laughed heartily. ‘’Thank you. But you are my aburo’’, I teased. I pray for the Almighty to extend comfort and care to his young family.
Another shocking news I recently received was the death of Engr. Etim Eyoette, a director at NDDC. In his 50s, he had suffered a stroke earlier this year and had managed to resume work after a long hospitalization. But unfortunately, as the wife told me, he didn’t make a full recovery and succumbed months later. Diminutive, brilliant and always jovial, Etim attended the same secondary school as me, but he was four classes behind. His elder brother was my friend and classmate and so he became like a younger brother. Years later, in my penultimate year at UNN, I was surprised to run into him in the vast campus. He had been admitted to read civil engineering. ‘’Must you follow me where ever I go?’’, I joked. He was buried last week. His family, friends and colleagues have been in shock.
Stroke is one of the most devastating ailments that leaves the sufferer permanently deformed, if he manages to survive it. Last Sunday, as I drove to church, I listened to a doctor on the car radio making a presentation on the illness. Maybe it has reached an epidemic proportion, I thought to myself. The doctor identified two types of stroke, one caused by the blockage of blood capillaries that supply the brain with blood. This leads to the death of that portion of the brain. The other occurs when the capillaries in the brain burst open and blood pours into the brain tissue.
Both types, he said, are due largely to uncontrolled high blood pressure, diabetes and high blood cholesterol. When I arrived at the church, I stayed in the car for about ten minutes, waiting for the erudite doctor to finish his presentation. He kept emphasizing the word ‘’uncontrolled’’ in describing the predisposing factors, and advised listeners to seek adequate medical attention, ‘’even if you do not feel unwell or sick’’.
Facing severe economic crisis, Nigerians are increasingly finding it more and more difficult to take care of themselves and their health. People are now dying of common infections as prices of antibiotics and other medicines are becoming unaffordable. Instead of going to the hospitals, many people visit their pharmacists for treatment. The pharmacist appears cheaper and faster than a hospital visit. But the problem is that the pharmacist was never trained to diagnose and treat. Besides, unlike the doctors, the pharmacist does not keep your medical records and does not conduct examination of the patients. By referring to your medical records and giving proper physical and clinical examinations, the doctor has a good sense of the patient’s history and can make informed judgements on your case.
There is even another worrying dimension of the crisis afflicting our healthcare system. I called an old friend the other day just to hear from him. He said he’s not been feeling well. When I asked if he’d seen a doctor, his answer shocked me. ‘’I can’t afford hospital, but I am going native’’, meaning that he has resorted to taking native medicines. He then added, ‘’But native has not been working either’’.
I struggled not to laugh. Native medicines – in whatever form – is the most ineffective mode of healthcare delivery that ends up complicating the patient’s situation, but, unfortunately, millions of Nigerians, especially the economically vulnerable ones, consider it the most affordable and potent. In native treatment, one medicine cures everything, from gonorrhoea to premature ejaculation, low sperm count, fibroid and baldness.
At street corners and markets, the efficacy of these ‘’medicines’’ is openly advertised, and local folks are falling victims largely because they consider the hospitals extremely expensive and cumbersome. Even when a patient has visited the hospital, some relatives may advise him to go native as ‘’this is beyond hospital’’. The unrelenting fight of native doctors for the people’s minds and money is one of the major causes of deaths in the population. It is curious that while hospitals are not allowed to advertise, native doctors can tout their efficacies in the most audacious manner.
Two weeks ago, I turned to a good friend, Dr. Ita Udosen, the chief medical director of Alma Clinic & Hospital, and asked him why deaths seem to be so common these days. With over 35 years’ experience in medical practice both in Nigeria and the US, Dr. Udosen has a good sense of earthy humour. He told me: ‘’My experience is that a Nigerian will eagerly spend huge sums of money to repair or overhaul his car, but he is very reluctant to spend on his health. If you suggest to our people to do a comprehensive medical examination, he will tell you ‘Doctor, there is no money’.
But the following day, he will be at his mechanic’s workshop, instructing the mechanic, ‘drop the engine of this car’. How did he get the money to take care of the car, but none to take care of his health’’? Dr. Udosen notes that the government has stepped in by providing the National Health Insurance Scheme managed by the National Health Insurance Authority. Nigerians, he said, should embrace this by taking out Health Insurance for their families.
With so many people living under so much severe and stressful conditions, preventive medicine has a lot to do to prevent sudden deaths. But how do we cope when incomes are hardly enough to take care of the family? How can our governments step in?
I remember also other friends like Akanimo Edet, Efremfon Bassey and Ata Etuk who recently passed away. My heart goes out to the families they left behind and may their souls rest in peace.
