National Hospital: What Went Wrong?

By Saleh Faruq Gagarawa

The National Hospital in Abuja was once a symbol of hope and quality healthcare for Nigerians, a facility that stood as a testament to Nigeria’s commitment to public health. Initially established as a hospital for women and children by Maryam Babangida, it was later transformed into a world-class facility for all Nigerians by President Olusegun Obasanjo. The hospital was set apart by its high standard of care, with specialized equipment, a well-stocked pharmacy, and skilled medical professionals, some of whom were brought in from abroad to ensure the highest standards of healthcare.

In its early years, the hospital was directly overseen by the Presidency, free from ministerial interference. Its early management, led by experienced figures like Chief Medical Officer B.B. Shehu, was dedicated to maintaining its excellence. Patients could trust the hospital for comprehensive care, with ready access to medications and treatment options that were rare elsewhere in Nigeria. It was a beacon for health, hope, and healing in the Federal Capital Territory.

However, as the years have passed, the National Hospital’s reputation has significantly deteriorated. Reports from recent years reveal a starkly different picture. Since 2018, during the administration of President Muhammadu Buhari, the hospital has reportedly experienced a severe decline in service quality, with patients facing an uphill battle to receive even basic care. Observers note that professionalism among staff has dwindled, and the facility often suffers from a lack of bed space, broken infrastructure, and reduced maintenance.

The current state of the National Hospital is worrying. Emergency services that once operated smoothly and efficiently are now reportedly understaffed, particularly at night. Patients frequently struggle to find available beds, and when they do, they are sometimes required to purchase basic admission kits—including items like gloves and syringes—from external sources. The pharmacy, once a dependable source of medications, now reportedly lacks even common drugs like paracetamol. Patients report that upon arrival in emergency situations, they are often required to go through lengthy administrative processes and payment queues before receiving any medical attention. This delay can exacerbate patients’ conditions, turning urgent medical issues into more severe health crises.

Maintenance within the facility has also suffered; patients and visitors alike note that floors are in disrepair, emergency beds are broken, and window screens are damaged, allowing mosquitoes to enter and further discomfort patients. The overall standard of hygiene and orderliness, which once characterized the hospital, appears to have been lost.

This decline raises important questions about accountability, funding, and resource management. Where has the funding for the hospital gone, if not into maintaining the once-impeccable facility? What led to the exodus of passionate, skilled medical professionals who once defined the hospital’s reputation? Some say the issues at the National Hospital mirror the systemic struggles within Nigeria’s healthcare sector at large, plagued by funding gaps, resource misallocation, and limited oversight. Yet the need for a functioning, reliable healthcare facility in Abuja has never been greater.

In 2020, Maryam Abacha herself voiced concerns that the hospital had “lost focus.” The call for change is clear. Restoring the National Hospital to its former standard of excellence will require not only better funding but also strong leadership dedicated to addressing the systemic and operational issues that currently hold the hospital back. For the citizens who still look to the National Hospital for critical care, the question remains: Will it return to the beacon of hope it once was, or will it continue to decline, becoming a shadow of its initial promise?

Yesterday, I had a sickle cell crisis and was rushed to the hospital. But upon reaching there, it was difficult for them to even offer me a seat. They told us to go and do a record visit despite that I was in severe pain. It took us over an hour to complete the process. I arrived at the emergency around 8 p.m., and they could not attend to me until 9:30 p.m. By then, my pain had already escalated to an unbearable level. Finally, when I got the opportunity to be attended to, we were told to buy a pain relief analgesic. Upon reaching the pharmacy, we were informed that they did not have a single pain relief medication and were advised to go outside and buy it. By then, what I needed was more than a mere injection. My crisis had already worsened, and I needed to be hospitalized and put on fluids. However, at the National Hospital, they seemed indifferent. After wasting about two hours in severe pain without any progress, I had to be rushed to a private hospital because I began losing consciousness. Is the National Hospital saving lives, or is it making things worse?