Naijasinglegirl:
drink lipton and cover yourself with the blood of Jesus.

Naijasinglegirl:
Mid last week, my temperature was running high and since I am clearly not a fan of hospitals, I thought it was best to limit myself to the confines of my room until the sickness disappears but my mom was having none of that. She dragged me to the hospital.
My first reaction when I got there was "WTH! This is crowded."
I signed up for a medical consultation and found a place to sit.

After 3 hours of waiting, the bad tempered nurse at the reception area called my name.

Thank God, I thought.

Before she let me into the doctor's office, she put me on a height scale, weight scale and proceeded to pump my BP.

"Nurse, Its just fever not a modelling audition. Are all these necessary?" I asked giggling.
She frowned at me and increased the pressure till the friction numbed my arms. That was her way of telling me to shut the hell up.

I was not surprised to say the least.
Its no news some Nigerian female nurses are far from polite. Especially those ones with big buttocks that are always roaming from ward to ward with a tray of injections, looking for an innocent patient to stab.
Like someone said on twitter, its only in Nigeria the nurses would wake you up from sleep to give you sleeping pills.
When I got into the examination room, I was expecting some sort of gadget to be used on me but everything was done MANUALLY. The doctor even used his palm to gauge my temperature rather than a thermometer.

Oshey baddest doctor!!!

"So what is wrong with you?" He asked.
"That is your job doctor. If I knew I wouldn't be here."
No, that was not my reply. Clearly in Nigerian hospitals, you are expected to diagnose your problem in your house so you don't waste the doctor's time at the hospital.

"Fever." I replied.

For all I know it could be a fever disguising as TB. God Forbids!
A cancerous fever. God Forbids!
A brain tumour fever. God Forbids!!
Ebola Fever. God Forbids!!!

But no, not in our hospitals. The first rule they operate in is,
"All facts surrounding a fever must be twisted and twisted until the final diagnosis reads MALARIA."

Now I made his job easier, he began manipulating my replies.

"How is it doing you?" He asked.
Na wa o. See question.
I used my palm to massaged my chin for a few seconds and then I said,
"Its doing me somehow oh."
"You have headache?"
"No"
"Loss of appetite?"
"I guess."
"Cough?"
"No."
"Cold?"
"Small."
He turned to my mom this time. "Madam, she has malaria!" He exclaimed.

*sigh* As usual. Don't we all?

It seemed he forgot to ask me when last I saw my period in his line of questions. My heart broke some years back when a malaria diagnosing doctor threw the question at a twelve year old Naijasinglegirl.
The only diagnosis these doctors are good at making are malaria, pregnancy and HIV.

All my life, whenever I go to the hospital, I always return home with the same malaria declaration after the doctor has assessed me MANUALLY. Sometimes when the doctor is in a good mood, he takes my hard earned blood and upgrades me to typhoid. This is the reason my dad almost bundled me to a native doctor when a medical doctor told him the chances of his fragile 5-year old Naijasinglegirl surviving malaria were 20:80.
At least native doctors have high-tech equipment like a calabash for skyping with sango, a speaking mirror and no-nonsense oracles.
Even when I roll into the hospital from the expressway with green blood dripping from my nose, blue mucus dripping from my mouth and down syndrome attitude, Its still malaria!

Back to our story.
It was time for drug administration. My favourite part where the doctor gets to clear the shelves of the in-house pharmacy for me. The closer the drugs are to their expiration date, the more generous he gets.
Five transparent nylon of drugs were given to me. First contained several tablets of paracetamol, second contained those medium size multi vitamins, third contained more than twenty tiny yellow tablets, fourth contained a green coloured anti malaria tablets and the last one, orange vitamic C.

"Take all of it. Directives are on the pack for your dosage." The doctor commanded.

All ke? He didn't even have conscience.
That was when I gave into a hysterical laughter. I laughed to the point that I felt the fever leaving me in annoyance.

When I walked back to the reception, I wanted to grab a mic to announce to the impatient prospective patients to return home. After all, their problem is either pregnancy or malaria.
Finally home, it was time for me to be my own doctor as usual. I tossed everything into my trashcan except for my vitamic C which became my hourly tomtom.

Until our health care system improves, I know what to do when sickness strikes again.

Migraine : Alabukun powder
Headache : Panadol
Catarhh : Procold
Purging : Flagyl
Boil : Robb
Waist pain : Aboniki balm
Madness : Native doctor
Dislocated bone : Pastor Chris
HIV : Prophet T B Joshua

Naijasinglegirl:
Mid last week, my temperature was running high and since I am clearly not a fan of hospitals, I thought it was best to limit myself to the confines of my room until the sickness disappears but my mom was having none of that. She dragged me to the hospital.
My first reaction when I got there was "WTH! This is crowded."
I signed up for a medical consultation and found a place to sit.

After 3 hours of waiting, the bad tempered nurse at the reception area called my name.

Thank God, I thought.

Before she let me into the doctor's office, she put me on a height scale, weight scale and proceeded to pump my BP.

"Nurse, Its just fever not a modelling audition. Are all these necessary?" I asked giggling.
She frowned at me and increased the pressure till the friction numbed my arms. That was her way of telling me to shut the hell up.

I was not surprised to say the least.
Its no news some Nigerian female nurses are far from polite. Especially those ones with big buttocks that are always roaming from ward to ward with a tray of injections, looking for an innocent patient to stab.
Like someone said on twitter, its only in Nigeria the nurses would wake you up from sleep to give you sleeping pills.
When I got into the examination room, I was expecting some sort of gadget to be used on me but everything was done MANUALLY. The doctor even used his palm to gauge my temperature rather than a thermometer.

Oshey baddest doctor!!!

"So what is wrong with you?" He asked.
"That is your job doctor. If I knew I wouldn't be here."
No, that was not my reply. Clearly in Nigerian hospitals, you are expected to diagnose your problem in your house so you don't waste the doctor's time at the hospital.

"Fever." I replied.

For all I know it could be a fever disguising as TB. God Forbids!
A cancerous fever. God Forbids!
A brain tumour fever. God Forbids!!
Ebola Fever. God Forbids!!!

But no, not in our hospitals. The first rule they operate in is,
"All facts surrounding a fever must be twisted and twisted until the final diagnosis reads MALARIA."

Now I made his job easier, he began manipulating my replies.

"How is it doing you?" He asked.
Na wa o. See question.
I used my palm to massaged my chin for a few seconds and then I said,
"Its doing me somehow oh."
"You have headache?"
"No"
"Loss of appetite?"
"I guess."
"Cough?"
"No."
"Cold?"
"Small."
He turned to my mom this time. "Madam, she has malaria!" He exclaimed.

*sigh* As usual. Don't we all?

It seemed he forgot to ask me when last I saw my period in his line of questions. My heart broke some years back when a malaria diagnosing doctor threw the question at a twelve year old Naijasinglegirl.
The only diagnosis these doctors are good at making are malaria, pregnancy and HIV.

All my life, whenever I go to the hospital, I always return home with the same malaria declaration after the doctor has assessed me MANUALLY. Sometimes when the doctor is in a good mood, he takes my hard earned blood and upgrades me to typhoid. This is the reason my dad almost bundled me to a native doctor when a medical doctor told him the chances of his fragile 5-year old Naijasinglegirl surviving malaria were 20:80.
At least native doctors have high-tech equipment like a calabash for skyping with sango, a speaking mirror and no-nonsense oracles.
Even when I roll into the hospital from the expressway with green blood dripping from my nose, blue mucus dripping from my mouth and down syndrome attitude, Its still malaria!

Back to our story.
It was time for drug administration. My favourite part where the doctor gets to clear the shelves of the in-house pharmacy for me. The closer the drugs are to their expiration date, the more generous he gets.
Five transparent nylon of drugs were given to me. First contained several tablets of paracetamol, second contained those medium size multi vitamins, third contained more than twenty tiny yellow tablets, fourth contained a green coloured anti malaria tablets and the last one, orange vitamic C.

"Take all of it. Directives are on the pack for your dosage." The doctor commanded.

All ke? He didn't even have conscience.
That was when I gave into a hysterical laughter. I laughed to the point that I felt the fever leaving me in annoyance.

When I walked back to the reception, I wanted to grab a mic to announce to the impatient prospective patients to return home. After all, their problem is either pregnancy or malaria.
Finally home, it was time for me to be my own doctor as usual. I tossed everything into my trashcan except for my vitamic C which became my hourly tomtom.

Until our health care system improves, I know what to do when sickness strikes again.

Migraine : Alabukun powder
Headache : Panadol
Catarhh : Procold
Purging : Flagyl
Boil : Robb
Waist pain : Aboniki balm
Madness : Native doctor
Dislocated bone : Pastor Chris
HIV : Prophet T B Joshua

Oduduwaboy:
I tried to laugh but the laughter did not come because the story was actually not quite funny . Next time sha !

Naijasinglegirl:
I see. And people wonder why you are still writing JAMB at 40?

Please summarize?? ...which of your grand mama u sey dey folllow u from village??

Oduduwaboy:
I tried to laugh but the laughter did not come because the story was actually not quite funny . Next time sha !

Dnaz:
U had malaria and d doctor got d diagnosis right so what is ur problem. U walk into a doctor's office and expect him to automatically know what is wrong with u without asking questions, please do u think u came to see a native doctor ? We live in d tropics so 90% of fevers is due to malaria, but you want him to run tests that u cannot even afford. Later u curse him for billing you too much. It's people like you that get deceived by the quacks who use computers to ascribed funny diseases to people. Diagnosis involves history, physical examination and then investigation in that order but u want him to jump to the third. I am tired of Nigerian patients. U call ur Nigerian trained doctors quacks only to run abroad and be treated by the same Nigerian trained doctors. Pathetic nation

bamyinka:
If the post is a sarcasm, then it's excused, but if it's real then it's not fair the medical profession cos those guys are trying despite the poor appreciation we give.

Augustbreak:
In PH back then when I was preggie with my first child,One Doctor diagnosed appendicitis because I told him I had abdominal pain,I was even given intravenous injections and antibiotics to suppress it for two weeks before operation.Fortunately,we decided to check another hospital to be sure.That's about seven years ago and my daughter will be seven on Christmas day.Ive not gone for the surgery till date.You are lucky you were not diagnosed with HIV

chiketee:

Some of you are so bold in your ignorance, so do you think all appendicitis require surgical intervention, don't you know some resolve with just antibiotics. Or you think because u were pregnant u couldn't have had appendicitis. Nigerian patients are really irritating. The yeye OP complained about fever in a country where malaria is endemic, don't you think that should be topmost in the doctors mind. She complains the doctor was asking her questions, foolishly not knowing he was trying to find out any other reason for the fever apart from malaria. The doctor makes a diagnosis from the information you give him and examinations. If you give crappy information like the OP you will get crappy diagnosis especially in a crowded hospital

Finally home, it was time for me to be my own doctor as usual. I tossed everything into my trashcan except for my vitamic C which became my hourly tomtom.