Phronesis OralHealth

LIFE OF A NIGERIAN DOCTOR IN 2026

Being the only doctor on heavy night call in a Nigerian Specialist hospital is basically signing up for a solo boss-level survival game.
You resume 8pm.

By 9:45, you’ve already:
✔️ Reviewed 3 new emergencies from the A&E
✔️ Written admission notes for 12 patients (hand cramping like say na JAMB essay)
✔️ Been called “oga doctor” by your nurses 23 times while they hand you 27 new cases notes for patients in the ward
✔️ Pronounced a university student who went out partying too hard on valentine's day and had accident D.O.A. and consoled family who are still wailing outside.

The ward is full and casualty is overflowing.

Opay keeps calling your phone because you are owing them 261k.

Theatre is calling you to come review the patient for emergency lap.

And the consultant on call phone is on Do Not Disturb because family emergency but we all know na sleep emergency. (How much are they even paying him?)

You haven’t sipped water or peed since you resumed and your bladder is doing its own ward round.

Then labour ward matron is calling for an emergency. They said it's eclampsia with sky high BP, seizing.

You sprint there, stabilize, give drugs, rush to maternity operating suit and deliver baby under general anaesthesia(cough* cough* ketamine), write orders to send mother to hdu, and run back to medical ward because another Baba with kidney failure on dialysis just arrested.

Another 15 minutes doing CPR. You write his death note too.

You’re doing the work of house officer + registrar + senior registrar + consultant + locum + security (because sometimes you have to beg relatives to calm down before they remove your teeth)

By 5am, light goes off. When you ask why, generator people say fuel has finish.

You call CMD, he says you should never call him for such flimsy reasons again, that he is not the commissioner doing the budget.

So what can you do?

You keep assessing your patients with your phone torch and your nurse’s android touch light.

Morning comes and you handover at 8am sharp.

You look like you fought Boko Haram overnight. Your eyes are red, your hair is tangled, and your scrubs looking like prison rags .

You sign out, drag yourself to your car. You check the fuel gauge, low fuel!

You wonder if it'll take you home.

You decide to risk it.

As you're leaving, you heard the family of the patient you saved last night shouting, “Thank God o Doctor! God is good!”

Yes. God is good.

But doctor sef try small sha 😭. Appreciate us too.

We dey manage, but the body no dey manage. You get home only to see patients complaining on twitter that you're treating them under android touch light.

You laugh… not because you're not angry but because the next call is in 2 days.

From Dr. Afo (X).

❤❤❤