By Osordi Ayomide
The reported stabbing of Lawal Toheeb Olasunkanmi, a medical laboratory scientist at the Federal Medical Centre (FMC), Idi-Aba, Abeokuta, Ogun State, has reignited concerns about the safety of healthcare workers in Nigeria.
Following the incident, health workers at the facility embarked on a 72-hour warning strike, demanding justice for their colleague and improved security within the hospital.
The Federal Government also condemned the attack and called for the arrest and prosecution of the alleged assailant. These reactions are justified since no one is above the law, and anyone found guilty of an offence must face the appropriate consequences. Equally, healthcare workers deserve protection, dignity and respect while carrying out their duties.
However, beyond the condemnations and industrial action lies a question that deserves equal attention: what happens to the patients whose lives depend on these same workers when hospital services are disrupted? In a country where access to quality healthcare remains a struggle for many, the incident should prompt more than outrage over violence. It should also compel us to confront the systemic shortcomings that continue to undermine public confidence in our hospitals.
Nothing justifies assaulting a healthcare professional. Whatever grievances a patient or relative may have, violence is neither an acceptable response nor a substitute for the law. Anyone found responsible for the attack must be held accountable.
However, condemning violence should not prevent us from examining the conditions that sometimes leave patients and their relatives frustrated, helpless and desperate for answers.
When someone rushes a critically ill relative to a hospital, the expectation is straightforward: prompt attention, appropriate treatment and clear communication. When these expectations are repeatedly unmet, anxiety can give way to frustration, particularly when a loved one’s condition is deteriorating. This does not excuse aggression, nor does it establish that poor service delivery played any part in the attack on Olasunkanmi. The circumstances surrounding the incident must be properly investigated. Nevertheless, the wider relationship between patients and healthcare providers deserves honest scrutiny, especially when public hospitals are struggling to meet the demands placed upon them.
My concerns are not based on hearsay. On several occasions, I accompanied patients from a reputable private hospital in Abeokuta to FMC for further medical attention. These were referral cases involving conditions that required specialised care beyond the capacity of the referring facility. Our responsibility was to stabilise patients before transferring them where necessary. Nevertheless, I firsthand witnessed occasions when patients remained inside the ambulances or vehicles that brought them to FMC, exposed to the scorching sun while waiting to be attended to.
On one occasion, I personally waited outside the hospital with a patient for more than an hour. Having accompanied registered nurses on these referrals, I witnessed situations in which repeated appeals for urgent attention did not produce the response we had hoped for. To be fair, staff generally communicated with us professionally, although the pressure under which they worked sometimes affected their responses. I also heard complaints from other nurses about similar experiences. These encounters left me wondering how a family without medical knowledge, professional contacts or the financial means to seek care elsewhere would cope with such uncertainty.
That question became painfully personal when I transferred my critically ill mother to the same hospital. The decision was influenced partly by the need for better-equipped medical facilities and partly by the cost of treatment. My mother had been stabilised before the transfer, but her blood pressure was dangerously low, and she was receiving oxygen.
Upon arrival at FMC, we waited outside for approximately 30 to 40 minutes because, we were told, there was no available bed and staff were trying to make one available. I repeatedly went inside to plead for assistance while worrying about my mother’s condition.
Eventually, she was admitted, and medical personnel examined her, checked her vital signs and took her medical history. We then had to navigate the registration process, which was particularly demanding under the circumstances. After treatment commenced, we were asked to obtain some medical test outside the hospital. By the time we returned, another patient had occupied our bed space, and we had to wait for another allocation. Having struggled to secure a bed earlier in the day, we found ourselves facing the same difficulty later that evening. For a family already afraid of losing a loved one, such an experience adds another layer of distress to an already desperate situation.
The difficulties did not end there. My sister and I were the relatives available to care for our mother, who could neither speak nor move independently and required constant attention while receiving oxygen. Meanwhile, there was only enough seating space for one of us. While one person remained beside her, the other had to move around to pay for tests, medicines, infusions and attend to other hospital requirements. Medical students, nurses and doctors also visited to ask questions and record information. I understood that taking a patient’s history, conducting examinations and reviewing medical records were necessary parts of treatment.
My concern, however, was that different people sometimes asked similar questions while we struggled to understand what was being done and what remained outstanding. As relatives, we wanted to know what steps were being taken to improve our mother’s condition and why some processes appeared to be taking so long. We were not medical professionals, but we were watching her struggle. We needed appropriate treatment, certainly, but we also needed clear information and reassurance that her care was progressing.
My mother spent three days in FMC’s emergency unit before she eventually passed away. During that period, we repeatedly sought updates on the blood tests she had undergone, but we did not receive the results before her death. The only investigation result we obtained was from a brain scan conducted outside the hospital at Mercy Hospital, Panseke. Whenever I visited the laboratory to enquire about the outstanding results, I received one explanation or another. A doctor who routinely visited the unit each morning also repeatedly instructed staff to find a more comfortable arrangement for my mother because she appeared uncomfortable on her bed. Another instruction was for her to undergo a chest X-ray to help the medical team better understand her condition.
Sadly, the X-ray was not carried out before she died. I cannot say whether obtaining the outstanding results or completing the X-ray would have changed the outcome; that would require medical evidence, and it would be wrong to claim otherwise. What I can say is that the experience left my family with painful questions about communication, coordination and the timely execution of medical decisions. When a family is already struggling with the possibility of losing a loved one, uncertainty about essential aspects of care can make an unbearable situation even more difficult.
It is against this background that I believe the conversation surrounding the stabbing must go beyond condemnation. What if the person accused of the attack had also experienced prolonged frustration while seeking medical attention for a relative? What if unanswered questions, delays or a sense of helplessness had contributed to that person’s emotional state? These are questions for reflection, not conclusions about the motive behind the incident. There is no basis for claiming that the alleged assailant experienced the same difficulties my family encountered. Only a proper investigation can establish the circumstances surrounding the attack. Nevertheless, acknowledging the pressures that can arise in a hospital does not amount to excusing violence.
We can demand justice for an attacked healthcare worker while insisting that complaints about patient care receive serious attention. These positions are not contradictory. A system that protects its workers, listens to patients and addresses recurring service failures stands a better chance of earning public trust and preventing avoidable tensions.
Another troubling aspect of the crisis is the withdrawal of services in response to the attack. The concerns raised by healthcare unions about staff safety are legitimate, and hospital management has a responsibility to protect its workforce.
However, industrial action in a hospital carries consequences that extend beyond the workers and management involved in the dispute. Patients arriving with emergencies, women in labour, people receiving oxygen and those requiring continuous monitoring cannot simply put their illnesses on hold until negotiations are concluded. Reports of the death of a heavily pregnant woman amid the wider crisis have further heightened public concern. The circumstances surrounding her death, including any possible connection to the disruption of services, must be independently established before conclusions are drawn.
Nevertheless, the report highlights the vulnerability of patients caught between institutional disputes and their urgent need for treatment. Healthcare workers have every right to demand safer working conditions, but arrangements must also be made to protect patients whose conditions cannot wait. Emergency services, continuity-of-care arrangements and meaningful negotiations must remain priorities whenever industrial action threatens access to medical treatment.
The Federal Government and hospital authorities must therefore do more than issue statements condemning violence and demanding arrests.
Nigeria’s public hospitals need sustained investment in infrastructure, diagnostic equipment, staffing and essential medical supplies. Healthcare professionals cannot be expected to deliver quality services when they are overburdened, understaffed or forced to work with inadequate facilities. Consider a nurse responsible for more than 10 patients in an emergency unit. It would be unrealistic to expect every patient to receive immediate attention at the same time. The pressures facing doctors, nurses, laboratory scientists and other healthcare professionals are real and deserve serious consideration.
At the same time, patients have a right to timely attention, respectful treatment and clear information about their care. Inadequate funding and staff shortages may explain some of the difficulties, but they must not become permanent excuses for problems that government and hospital management have a responsibility to address. The goal should be a system in which healthcare workers can perform their duties effectively and patients receive appropriate care without unnecessary delays and confusion.
Accountability and service delivery also require urgent attention. Initiatives such as SERVICOM must go beyond existing on paper or providing a formal channel for complaints. There must be effective monitoring of service standards, proper investigation of grievances and appropriate consequences where avoidable failures are established. Patients and their relatives should know where to obtain updates on outstanding test results, how to report unreasonable delays and whom to approach when medical instructions appear not to have been carried out. Healthcare workers, in turn, must have reliable channels for reporting threats, assaults, security gaps and unsafe working conditions.
Complaints from patients should not be dismissed simply because medical personnel are under pressure, just as legitimate concerns raised by healthcare workers should not be ignored. Accountability must work in both directions. If Nigerians are expected to trust public hospitals, those facilities must demonstrate that patients’ lives, dignity and concerns matter. An effective complaints mechanism would also give families a lawful means of seeking redress before frustration escalates into confrontation.
We must also address the uneven distribution of specialised healthcare across the country. One federal medical centre cannot reasonably be expected to meet every specialised medical need across an entire state without adequate supporting facilities and an effective referral network. Consider a critically ill patient travelling from Agbara to FMC Abeokuta for treatment. Depending on the route and traffic, the journey may take hours, and the patient may still face a wait upon arrival. For someone whose condition is deteriorating, every additional delay can be significant.
The government must strengthen existing general hospitals, equip more facilities to handle emergencies and improve referral arrangements so that patients can access appropriate care closer to home. This is not simply a matter of constructing more hospital buildings. Facilities need qualified personnel, functioning equipment, reliable power, diagnostic services and the capacity to manage emergencies. A properly coordinated referral system would help direct patients to hospitals equipped to treat their conditions, reduce unnecessary journeys and ease the pressure on major referral centres. For many Nigerians, the difference between timely treatment and a desperate search for help can be a matter of life and death.
In summary, this dillema establishes the fact the safety of healthcare workers and the welfare of patients must be treated as equally important responsibilities. The alleged attacker must face the consequences of the assault if found guilty, and no healthcare professional should have to fear being stabbed or threatened while at work. Equally, government and hospital authorities must answer legitimate questions about service delivery, staffing, infrastructure, communication and access to timely treatment. Patients and their relatives, too, must understand that frustration, however understandable, cannot justify violence. Losing my mother after seeking treatment has left me with a painful understanding of the uncertainty families face in hospital wards.
Because, behind every patient is someone hoping for recovery, searching for answers and trusting that the people and institutions responsible for providing care will do everything reasonably possible to help. Such families should not have to struggle unnecessarily for bed space, seek outstanding investigation results without clear answers or wonder whether essential steps in their loved ones’ treatment will be completed. We must not wait for another assault, another strike or another reported patient death before confronting these problems.
Condemning violence is necessary, but it is only the beginning. Nigeria must build a healthcare system where workers are protected, patients are heard and medical care is not undermined by failures that can and should be addressed. Until then, the dilemma at FMC Abeokuta will remain a warning that our healthcare crisis extends far beyond one incident.
