The system failed my brother

This is not the kind of material I want to be writing at this time but necessity has placed it upon me to do so, in case somebody finds it useful and may want to act for the good of society.

Writing technology can sometimes place the writer at that hyper level of fantasy where you believe that nothing can go wrong beyond the capacity of technology; even rocket science becomes an easily achievable feat as people are building spaceships for tourism, a little fun in the air where the big boys splash some cash to mock the misery of humanity.

And you think that with all these gizmos around, nothing can go wrong. Make that urgent call, call a professional, resolve your health emergencies no matter the difficulties imposed by our challenging environment. Something is possible. Something good is still possible in the year of our Lord 2024 in our dear nation Nigeria.

Afterall, OBJ gave us telephones since 2001 and the sector has survived some unbelievable level of human greed and plunder to become a lasting testimony to his audacious administrative choices and decisions. You can actually make that call. He made it possible.

At this point, it is possible to nurse the little fantasy that Nigeria can be part of the global telemedicine community where a doctor in Indian or Dubai or even the United States can address a health situation in Nigeria. Technology has made that possible; abrogate travels but achieve health feats. Let me observe here that even our leaders favour medical tourism and prefer to visit these places and more instead of enjoying the possibilities and provisions of technology.

So when my elder brother, Timothy Okoh, developed a medical emergency on the night of Wednesday, November 20, 2024, the family thought they had taken a wise decision by quickly rushing him to Irrua Specialist Teaching Hospital (ISTH), Irrua, Edo State (the Teaching Hospital for Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma). Where else should urgent health issues be tackled if not at a teaching hospital! No ambulance services. Never mind. Improvisation is our second nature in this part of the world.

Coordinating activities was nearly seamless. Afterall, OBJ has made it possible for us to talk. Everybody, even from distant lands who were on the phone that night, was comforted that our brother was in good hands.

I just believe that the right knowledge supported by modern gizmos can save a life. My cousin, Alex Iyayi, gave me that assurance over twenty years ago. He was coming to see me at the Holiday Inn, Sandton, Johannesburg, when an emergency flashed on his gizmos to immediately return to the hospital where he worked.

He worked at the Pretoria Heart Hospital. When he joined me at the hotel later that night, he was equipped with all kinds of gizmos and I wondered aloud if he had left health practice for technology. “No, these are for emergency calls. No matter where I am, the hospital should be able to reach me. I was on my way here when they called. I just went to flush a heart. Heart attack doesn’t kill anymore except in extreme cases.” That conversation has been with me ever since. This was about 20 years ago.

Tim walked into the hospital, which they also call Otibho Okhai, an eternal memorial to Commodore August Aikhomu’s maternal family tree, a befitting lasting tribute to a humble family which raised such a high performing child, that has since gone to fellowship with his ancestors.

He had a certain level of disorientation which slowed speech and impaired ambulation. Without being a medical doctor, I could sense what was happening. It may be the beginning of a stroke, which Ese Okoh, Tim’s second daughter, told me could “occur due to a decrease in oxygen supply to the brain. This can be due to a bleed or blockage in the brain’s blood supply. Immediate emergency treatment may help prevent life threatening consequences.”

A Brain CT Scan actually revealed there was a little development in the brain area that should have been arrested immediately. Instead there were prevarications and dereliction of responsibilities while life ebbed towards fatality.

Tim was still able to go to the bathroom all by himself and even ate well on Thursday evening before Ese joined from Lagos. The small problem was not attended to. That night, things took a tragic turn. The nurses entreated the doctor in charge to return for a followup assessment. By the time he came (they call him Dr Gratus, a registrar in the medical team at ISTH), he had harsh words for everybody there, including my brother’s wife fighting to bear the degeneration in the husband’s health.

“Medicine is not rocket science. I wasn’t idle where I was,” he reprimanded them.

When the Consultant returned the following morning, he wasn’t happy with the handling of the case, I was told. A Neurologist was needed immediately but there was none available as the one that should have been on ground, had traveled for a programme. The next available opportunity was the University of Benin Teaching Hospital (UBTH) which was on strike.

All the while, I was never told that the medical team on ground tried to reach the Neurologist for professional instructions; for them what should be a simple telemedicine practice was antediluvian, a life from the past where the doctor suffered ignorance from narrow-minded pedagogy without the augmentation of modern teaching practices and advancement and research in medicine.

Thankfully, my friend, Dr Festus Okubor, (I don’t know if anybody ever told him he has the voice of an Angel – very soothing and reassuring in moments of extreme anguish) got in touch with the Medical Director at Asaba Specialist Hospital who told us to come immediately. But there has to be clearance and proper referral from Irrua Teaching Hospital. We must make arrangements for Ambulance services, pay the driver separately and also pay the nurse that would follow the Ambulance.

Hours went by and time ticked on my brother. The journey to Benin would have taken about 21/2 hours instead of about 40 minutes in the days of yore. Asaba took less than one hour. Another Brain scan showed that the little development noticed in the brain at Irrua had become a haemorrhage, needing a miracle to reverse or immediate operation to drain the blood.

My brother, Tim, couldn’t wait for that operation. Close to 10 pm of Friday night, November 22, 2024, he opted for that final journey which gives eternal bliss.

Sympathisers from within and without the country have asked me one question: why did you take your brother to Otibho Okhai? They all have their stories to tell. Tales of failed service delivery, of neglect and abandonment even at critical moments, some level of professional recklessness and even arrogance which had only one outcome: fatality!

The system failed my brother. I am using system as a generic word that covers institutions, technology, road infrastructure and human knowledge which, in this case, were in clear deficit as he struggled for life. No money could have saved my brother. He needed strong institutions that support and regenerate life. We are loud in words and lean in action. And very strong in political sloganeering signifying nothing!

The family is comforted that as a Pastor, you have gone to enjoy the peace and joy of the Lord. Even our friends and well wishers say so. But they hardly know what that means. Here is an information I never shared with you. Long ago, when you were in hospital and the information came to me in the hotel where I was attending a programme, I prayed an innocent prayer to God, that I didn’t want you to die because you had stepped into the shoes of our father with grace since his demise. That night I received a visitation twice, of a kind of peace that I have not been able to capture with words. It is joy and a state of being emblematic of the glory of God. It is surreal but comforting to imagine you enjoy that kind of peace.

The entire Okoh family at Ugbegun in Esan Central, Edo State, are saddened by your sudden departure but grateful to God for the joy, peace and the beauty of life you brought our way, as a teacher in Edo State, and a hospital administrator in Lagos. Your pleasant memories will always remain with us. So long, lovely Brother!