The foyer of the Kinghamman Road Satellite Clinic was swarmed with patients, some folded in different positions on the wooden benches as if their postures would alleviate their pains, while nurses moved in and out of the wards to attend to patients.
Some patients, who could no longer hide their emotions, shed tears. North of the clinic, a woman who was tossing and turning in pain lie on a metal bed at the corridor which led to the male ward.
Outside the clinic, a taxi cab with emergency lights on, suddenly stopped at the entrance of the clinic. A teenage boy, who seemed unconscious, was lying inside the cab, his head supported by a young-man who looked worried. At the front seat of the cab a lady constantly looked at the boy helplessly.
The driver hurriedly waved out his hands, indicating that someone should open the gate but no one looked at him. Seeing that the situation called for urgent attention, a passer-by came to their rescue by endeavouring to open the gate.
Unfortunately, he was stopped by a huge man who indicated that the drive should make use of the first gate; the reason being that the wheelchair they would be providing for the patient would not be able to climb the stairs that led to the clinic if they made use of the second gate.
Accessing the gravity of the situation by avoiding further arguments, the drive made a U-turn, reversed and made use of the other gate as directed. A wheelchair was brought by one of the clinic attendants, who carted the seemly motionless body to the director’s office.
Clad in white medical robe with a red and stainless stethoscope, Dr Alex Kanu sat in his grey swivel chair attending other patients, when his door was abruptly pushed open to let the dying boy in.
Looking at the group who had stormed his office, without moving from his chair Dr Kanu advised that the boy should be taken to the Connaught Hospital.
His referral sounded like a judge giving his verdict on a treason trial, as if his pronouncement held life and death the boy, who later was known as Prince Musa, started jerking as if he’d been electrified to wake up for his slumber. After the jolting and twitching, Musa stood helplessly at the wheelchair as his supposedly relations tried to rush him to the Connaught hospital.
Though access to reach the director proved futile because of his busy scheduled, the clinic’s attendants that took Musa to the director’s examination room explained that the boy was not admitted because there were not enough beds at the clinic.
It’s really pathetic to see a clinic which was setup to save lives can not do much to save the life of a dying boy, simply because the clinic does not have enough beds.