It had been nearly 50 minutes since my blood sample was drawn. My butt still ached from the painful intramuscular injection I had just received, but I pushed myself up and climbed up the stairs right back to the waiting area where I had first met with a doctor.
The doctor had mentioned she’d be leaving in about an hour, and that another doctor would likely review my results. So, I wasn’t surprised when I saw her step out of her office. I said goodbye, and she responded kindly.
There were two consulting rooms to the right and two to the left. Her office had been one of those on the right. A different doctor emerged from the left side, greeted someone, and returned inside. I followed him, politely explaining that I was waiting to see a doctor.
“What doctor?” he asked.
“Any doctor,” I replied. “I just need to review a test result.”
He responded without much thought: “This side is for gastrointestinal cases.”
“Oh okay,” I said, stepping back into the hallway, confused and unsure. I sat down again. Waiting. Trying not to be irritated by how long this was taking. Telling myself the evening-shift doctor was probably just delayed for good reason.
Eventually, a young-looking male doctor with a backpack walked up the stairs and turned towards the offices on the right. I quickly called out:
“Hi. I’m waiting to see a doctor. Will that be you?”
He paused and asked, “What doctor?”
I understood that he meant – what department? “General practice,” I answered. “It’s just a test review.”
He shook his head slightly. “Oh, they close at 5 p.m. You’ll need to go to the downstairs wing once it’s past 5 pm.”
Just then, the earlier gastro-something doctor appeared again, and they exchanged pleasantries.
I felt the sting of frustration rise.
Why weren’t there any signs, clearly displaying these instructions or labelling offices and wings in a hospital considered top tier in the city? No poster, signage, digital screen, nothing? Why hadn’t the earlier female doctor told me this on her way out? We exchanged greetings on her way out! Why didn’t the gastro-kinikan doctor redirect me when I approached him? Why did I have to wait here for over 30 minutes before learning I was waiting in the wrong place?
I stood up gently. I was having a splitting headache, and it felt like sudden movement may cause the head to pop. I walked down to the nurses’ station and explained what I needed. They pointed me in the right direction. I got there and sat in line, waiting another 30 minutes before finally seeing the doctor.
Looking back, here are some of the lessons I drew from that evening at the hospital:
- When you realise you’ve taken a wrong turn, stop and reroute.
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been waiting or how emotionally invested you are. When you realise the path isn’t leading where you need to go, don’t linger. Don’t waste more time ranting, crying yourself deeper into misery. Reroute. Take a cue for your life from Google Maps – reroute with the same urgency.
- People are often not malicious; they’re just distracted.
The two doctors who failed to redirect me likely weren’t trying to frustrate me. They were probably just preoccupied or unaware. This doesn’t excuse the lapse, but it does humanise it. Most people aren’t out to get you. Oversights happen. Learn to give grace. Ask questions, seek clarity, and avoid turning ordinary people into villains in your story.
- Don’t let your own issues blind you to the needs around you.
Being self-absorbed, always in your own head, can make you numb to the people right in front of you. Someone might need help you’re capable of giving, but you’re too caught up to notice. I’ve been on both ends of that. I’ve helped others while battling my own issues, and somehow, it lifted my spirit too. Staying present is an act of generosity, and sometimes it can be healing.
- Yesterday’s knowledge is not enough for today’s decisions.
In a world that moves this fast, assumptions are dangerous. You have to stay updated, ask questions, seek new information, even about familiar spaces. Just because I saw a doctor upstairs earlier didn’t mean it would still be the case an hour later. One simple question at the nurse’s station could’ve saved me nearly an hour. Don’t rely on memory when clarity is a question away.
- Pain doesn’t have to be pointless.
The waiting? The headache? The wandering? It reminded me how systems, across sectors, not just healthcare, often fail the very people they’re designed to serve. But it also reminded me of how we can advocate better, for ourselves, and for others who may not have the same luxury of time. Signs and posters around a hospital are so basic level, so one wonders how does a top-tier hospital misses that? I decided I won’t just put it off as being ‘So Nigerian’, I will reach the hospital on all of their listed contacts and social media handles and also mention it to every personnel I encounter if I visit the place again.
Pain can teach. Let it teach you something useful.
By the way, I was and am perfectly fine. Turns out, Africans can be allergic too.
Because you read till the end, you get to see a fine gal! Shhh! Don’t tell anyone.
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