The family of a man who died from gunshot wounds to his abdomen have blamed his death on medical staff at five hospitals for failing to save him.
Victor Uko, father of one and secretary of the Niger Delta committee at the National Assembly, was shot by yet unidentified gunmen at his Jikwoyi home in Abuja on the night of May 2 and died after bleeding for five hours and seeking treatment at five hospitals, including the National Hospital and Maitama District Hospital.
A family member blamed the hospitals, saying the cause of his death was “not the people who shot him. None of these hospitals could even do something to stop the bleeding.”
At least two private clinics didn’t have equipment to operate on him. Sisters of Nativity—a catholic hospital Uko was first rushed to in Jikwoyi moments after the shooting—didn’t have an x-ray to locate the site of the bullet for surgery.
A second, Cedar Crest—where he arrived nearly two hours after the shooting—said the extent of his injuries were beyond its immediate capacity.
Police are investigating the shooting, and FCT police spokesman Jimoh Moshood said the force CID head was instructed to “personally supervise investigation.”
The 45-year-old native of Ukanafun, Akwa Ibom—and English graduate from University of Uyo—was recently promoted to the post of assistant director.
Five hours, five hospitals
A question the family—and Nigerians might want to—ask is: if hospitals find it difficult to give emergency care in Abuja, would any patient be better off in some remote village? Would it matter whether a patient is well of enough to afford the treatment?
Uko’s death despite five hours and five hospitals in the heart of Nigeria’s capital—where hospitals lay claim to world-class care—indicates a rot in the health care system, says his brother-in-law Udemeobong Idiok.
He remembered watching health minister Onyebuchi Chukwu on ministerial platform on Monday 30 April—two days before Uko’s shooting—reeling out the achievements of the health sector in the past one year.
“He [Chukwu] was kind of assuring that what you can see outside Nigeria is here. I am so surprised that such a situation, they were unable to save him,” laments Idiok, while his freshly widowed sister lay in thick mourning silence in the living room she shared with Uko.
“To have someone shot, [the] person will stay for [more than] four hours and then die…in Abuja it is criminal.”
“They shot my daddy!”
Uko’s 10-year-old daughter could only scream the words “They shot my daddy!” as the two shooters got away.
“We tried chasing them, but we didn’t see them. The little girl was shouting they shot my dad, they shot my dad,” says neighbour Raymond Aku.
Blessing Steven heard the shots and came out to find Uko clutching his bleeding abdomen and attempting to get into his car to drive to hospital.
Uko’s life-ending ordeal began around 9 in the evening of May 2. Two assailants had stalked around his residence and followed his wife’s red SUV into the gate of the compound. They subsequently pointed a locally made pistol at him while leading him to the sitting room.
In the course of his persistent inquiries as to the mission of the intruders, a gunshot was heard. Neighbours who were alerted to the sound covered the back fence of the house but the hoodlums escaped into the dark through the front gate.
In the commotion, with the 10-year-old crying “God will punish that person”, she recalled Uko saying to his daughter: “Don’t worry, I will be fine. Do you hear me? I will be fine.”
Steven adds: “He was not unconscious when I put him in the car. I even prayed for him. I said, don’t worry, calm down: the Lord is in control.”
Neighbours and sympathisers wove their cloths round his midriff to prevent excessive blood flow.
The relief they felt as neighbours got Uko into a car was premature. They were reckoning without the delays and bureaucracy that still clogs emergency care in Nigeria.
Delayed and rejected
The first hospital, Sisters of Nativity, demanded a police report, as required in shooting incidents. The Nigerian Medical Association has reportedly reached an agreement with police that allows doctors treat gunshot victims first and then process a report later. But hospitals still insist—sometimes at the risk of losing an emergency patient.
Authorities at Sisters of Nativity tell Daily Trust they placed calls to the nearby Jikwoyi police station for a report. But Aku said he caused distraction while another sympathiser went for the report. In the end, a policewoman and other officers detailed to the Uko residence on account of the shooting came to hospital.
The police woman would later escort Uko in an ambulance to the other hospitals. Nativity officials said they “delayed” to get the police to accompany the victim. The hospital said it had to refer Uko because it didn’t have an x-ray machine to scan for the position of the bullet in him and was concerned about fragments and the extent of damaged tissues. “We only gave him pain reliever because he was groaning in pain,” Nativity’s administration told Daily Trust.
“If Nativity had equipment, this man would have not died. They had space, they had everything,” said Agbum Ronald, among sympathisers shunting Uko among hospitals that night.
“The second hospital also rejected, that’s why we went to Cedar Crest,” he explains.
Recalling the night, Aku said: “At National, even the nurses didn’t even come to open the ambulance to see who is in there.”
Steven choked with tears as she narrates the night: “As a human being, first hospital, second, you will be discouraged. You have to get a godfather or you know one politician that knows one doctor that can operate before you can. The wife went on her knees, begging those people at National. ‘Even if there is no space, treat him in this ambulance. Okay, this is our wrapper; we can spread it on the floor and put him on it.’” The response: “Madam, go there is no space.’ They did not even look at him.”
National Hospital has denied the claims. The hospital’s public relations officer Jacob Haastrup said, “There is no way that could have happened. This is life we are talking about.”
The belief is that the hospital is being unfairly targeted with bad press and false accusations even when its currently 250-bed capacity is exhausted.
After being asked for time to meet with workers on duty on the night of May 2, he said there was no report of any rejection and the account—given by at least three different witnesses—was false.
A third hospital, Garki General Hospital, also said it had no records of receiving a gunshot patient that night. But Cedar Crest confirmed it received Uko at 11.05pm that night and referred him out to Maitama District hospital at 11.30pm.
In 25 minutes, emergency staff assessed and resuscitated Uko, according to Sunday Ekpen, clinical services manager at Cedar Crest, giving him intravenous fluids, blood, pain relievers and antibiotics.
Ekpen said the hospital considered it couldn’t provide the “expert surgical care” required under the circumstances and initiated the fourth referral to Maitama District Hospital (MDH), where Uko died in the next two hours.
At Maitama, “they [staff] were saying they don’t have bed space again,” said Ronald. “I was even disappointed—a government hospital like that.”
Witnesses with Uko claim staff didn’t begin attending to him until calls were put through by influential figures of Uko’s hometown of Akwam resident in Abuja.
“One Mr. Akpabio called them to call the medical director; that was when they started giving him attention,” Idiok said he learnt.
Maitama has denied the claims, saying since Uko’s first entry should have been the accident and emergency ward and the “issue of bed space was not even in question.”
It didn’t save Uko. “After the first pint [of blood], they gave him drip, and went for another,” said Ronald. “It is from there the man give up. The doctor just said: ‘the man is not with us.’ [Despite] all our suffering, moving from one corner to another, this man still died.”
Elapsed time
Maitama District Hosptial told Daily Trust “a lot of time elapsed before” Uko was taken there, noting that delays at all the hospitals along the way may have contributed.
Hospital records showed Uko’s pulse rate was fast—something called tachycardia—and his extremities were cold. “That happens when you have lost blood so your heart is trying to compensate for blood loss,” explains Dr Adetoun Sotimehin, chief medical director at MDH.
The plan, she said, was to “get blood into the patient”. While tests were ongoing, he was given “plasma expanders to expand the plasma and allow the little available blood to flow.”
“When the blood was available he was transfused. He was given IV [intravenous] fluids, blood and attempts were made to get the surgeon to come and do the surgery. It was a difficult surgery and would need the expertise of someone very qualified.”
The person qualified, one of three consultant surgeons, lived in Kubwa, about 40km away. Uko was bleeding internally all the while, losing blood as fast it was being transfused.
“That was basically the problem. By the time the consultant came, he had already died,” said Sotimehin.
Steven remembers: “At a point, he was saying, 'can’t you people help me to stop the blood, what are you guys doing?' He was begging that the blood was entering his head. He was using hand to support his head. He was struggling with his life.”
His family had hoped so too, from the moment he was rushed to hospital. Steven recalls Uko’s last demand as the bleeding continued: “He said they should just allow him to rest, that he is tired, let him rest.”
Hospital officials say capacity—reported in more than one hospital—is an actual problem in Abuja, where population is outpacing carrying capacity.
Sotimehin also says, given enough time and if the surgeon had been available at the time Uko was brought in, he could have been saved.
