This morning I went to visit a close friend of mine who is undergoing treatment for cancer at the Uganda Cancer Institute Mulago. This is my story.
Upon entrance, I was struck by the godly cleanliness inside. From the ground floor, up the stairs to the 5th floor, it’s spotless. It can’t be, I thought to myself. Nurses, doctors and other non medical staff kept moving about; all smiles, giving thumbs up for each other as they crossed paths on the stair case. Some were holding papers, others medicines while others just seemed in a hurry to attend to something. They are here on duty; working hard to save lives.
On the 2nd and 4th floors, is where I focused my attention. There was more human traffic here than any other floor. The benches at the reception areas were filled with patients waiting, all visibly tired. Women in their 30s and 40s, men in their 50s. I talked to a few – ‘Am here for a scan. Most of these are here for the same’ he told me. The rest were here for chemo. My heart sunk when I ran my eyes across the area and looked into their eyes. There was a sense of hopelessness. My friend encouraged me to get inside the admission room. I breathed in and out twice before accepting the invitation.
The contradiction I found inside deflated me completely. About 45 patients lay on matresses on the floor, right from the entrance. Ear marked for ‘adults’ I saw men and women lying next to each other half naked, mostly in pain – waiting. Women breasts were in the open, some of the men had their lower half of the bodies exposed, writhing in agony. Some had attendants, most did not. When I talked to some – they said – they were here because off the free services which exclude medicine or drugs. All.the institute gave them was space to put a mattress and shelter. Fortunately nurses are on call 24×7 but the name of the game here is cash. The ones with cash get VIP handling and the ones without just wait for the day when their creator will summon them. They are here to die.
I asked about food and was told, ‘we survive by God’s grace.’ When I asked why they still chose Mulago aware that the only service here is free scan, chemotherapy and medical advise, an old lady answered ‘at least there’s shelter. A nice building. I can hold onto that for hope.’ When the room started getting filled with strong scents from the different conditions of the patients, I exited. Visibly shaken, I asked my friend; ‘why here?’ My friend acknowledged that even then, Mulago had the best facilities (medical equipment) and has the benefit of the best cancer experts who work on the patients.
I looked around for a pharmacy and I saw none on the building. I looked around for canteen and found one only outside the gate. I was bleeding inside for my friend – having to bear these conditions but the wider picture for the many who can’t even afford to buy a tablet for themselves, was damn scary. The doctors were dressed smart, nurses were lit and even the administrators looked professional and lively. But that’s all – smart dressing.
My friend had been here 2 days and preparing to relocate to a better facility which is private. How can a multi billion medical facility, with the professionalism to maintain godly cleanliness and employ experts NOT be in position to provide basic medicine (including pain killers) to cancer patients? How can ‘adults’ all sleep together in a dormitory like setting in one open room – men and women – on the floor, in the cold of night with no drinking water or warm water at the very least? What does it mean not to have a spec of dust or fly within the vicinity but dying patients can’t even access a glass of water? Thankfully, the washrooms are very well maintained and so are the sewers outside. Basically the outstanding feature of the Uganda Cancer Institute is cleanliness – godly cleanliness.
It was my first time in Mulago in over 20 years. After the billions of shillings I’ve heard were spent to re-build the hospital to ‘world class’ standards, its strange that the Uganda Cancer Institute can’t afford even 1 free painkiller to patients. I walked out of the institute feeling sick, angry and cursing this country. Remembering the different desperate faces I looked into and the common response ‘ what other option do we have?’ has left me crest fallen. Cancer patients need hope. They live on hope. If even that can’t be given by the very facility that was built for that purpose, what do we have left? Jajja Atarah ssi musanyufu olwa leero.
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