The Unsung Heroes of Healthcare
When you think healthcare, I guess you think doctors, nurses, pharmacists, patients, and if you're feeling charitable, cleaners, security personnel... But there is one that is often forgotten
Thinking about losing weight? Taking care of a sick relative in a Nigerian public tertiary hospital is one way to go.
As no one wishes to be ill, even more, no one wishes to be a caregiver. Being sick can be inevitable, but being a caregiver is always a deliberate choice. It is waking up every day and deciding to put time, effort, resources, and soul into the care of another person—and in most cases, the caregiver has to sacrifice his/her own self-care to make this possible.
I was listening to a podcast the other day—Club Shay Shay, hosted by Shannon Sharpe. Fat Joe was the guest for that episode. He shared briefly about having a son living with Down syndrome and how his son’s mother left them both, choosing to have nothing to do with the child. In another podcast titled ‘Fly Away’ by The Nocturnists, a mother, Ann Schrooten, shared about her challenging fifteen-year journey taking care of her son, who lived with muscular dystrophy from birth, recalling one instance where she questioned herself, ‘Who lives like this? Who bags a child back to life as if it's normal? How have I been doing this for fifteen years’ and eventually having to let him go. A painful decision, however, one made from and with love.
Sometimes, being ill is just 3 days of fever, 2 days of body weakness, and 1 day of headache. A few pills, some rest, and you’re back on your feet. Sometimes, it is 30 days on admission in a hospital struggling to breathe, having a tube passed through your nose into your stomach for feeding, having a tube passed through your private parts to aid urination. Other times, it's spending the rest of life frequently visiting the hospital, being assisted by dedicated caregivers, and having doctors and nurses on speed dial. Being ill can be a major crisis that would put so much strain on family and friends—physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and otherwise.
Some time ago, as I walked into the ward, I passed by a patient’s relative curled up on a bench, just to the wall, a few feet from the entrance. I smiled at her and walked on. Getting to the patient’s bedside, I noticed she wasn’t coming behind me. It was her husband I had come to see, so why didn’t she get up and come? She had been in the hospital for more than 2 weeks, so she knew the routine. Then it occurred to me that she didn’t even smile back at me. So, I walked back to her, greeted her again, but she answered with a gloomy face. I had to ask what was wrong. Her sick husband had talked to her roughly and raised his hand at her while she was attempting to provide support as she had been doing since his admission; however, this time he was feeling much better and eager to do things by himself, but she was insisting. She was hurt, ready to pack up and leave him in the hospital, and she actually did for a day or two. Three weeks after the incidence, the couple was still in the hospital; his health had taken a downward turn, and there she was, still by his side providing support. I couldn’t help but notice that they both had lost weight. You could see the fatigue in their eyes. She would try to smile each time the doctors came around, but one could still see through the smile to the emotional, physical, and financial exhaustion that lingered behind.
If you walk through the hospital any day, you will see patient relatives and caregivers straddling the hallways, running up and down the stairways, running errands, sitting at corners across the hospital, and even sleeping on the floor at night, with little cover from the elements. Of all the people in the hospital, everyone has an extra motivation to be there—the staff gets compensated, the patients are there because they are ill, but the caregivers are neither sick nor get compensated. They are present simply because they have such a large basket of love, tolerance, and patience. They are a special kind of people. I think caregivers need to be appreciated more—by both the sick and the healthcare workers.
I propose that a day be set to celebrate family and friends who have had to be caregivers—‘World Patient Caregiver Day’ or something like that—because it really takes more than mere kindness or altruism to put a hold on one’s own life in order to care for another, especially in a Nigerian public hospital.
If you are currently taking care of a loved one or you’ve had to at any time, let me know how it is going/how it was in the comments—how you knew you had to be present for the person, how you managed to take care of yourself too, the outcome of the illness—anything or everything.
For those who care to know about Down syndrome and congenital muscular dystrophy or listen to the Club Shay Shay or Nocturnists episode.
Kindly leave a comment and/or share with a friend 😊
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