HEALTH IMPACTS IN OUR LITTLE SPACES

The impact of social media on access to feedback from our patients has been immense. A lot of the times it is not flattering to the doctor or hospitals but we can hear our clients loud and clear.

Most times, the clients take to social media to complain about the service they received or the lack of response to the treatment initiated but also occasionally, the doctors have borne severe mud-slinging on various platforms from the public. The tone sometimes may make one wonder whether doctors are even human.

Well, doctors are human after all. Illness knows no profession. And in sickness we are just as vulnerable. Five days ago, as the country woke up to vote or abstain, the medical community woke up to yet another deep loss. We had lost Dr. Allan Makokha of Kwale County.

For many elite Kenyans, understanding the impact of his loss may not be possible but those who understand poverty will be mourning for weeks. I first knew Dr. Makokha as a young medical student. Soft spoken and easy-going, he was a brilliant young doctor destined to go places. He completed his training and headed off to serve Kenyans with diligence.

Dr. Makokha settled in Coast province and made it home. I always found it amusing how my brain couldn't acknowledge that he was not originally from Coast when he spoke perfect Swahili and even had his English heavily accented by the coastal Swahili influence.

He was posted to Kwale County, the poorest county in the region. While most young doctors would spend their time in Kwale seeking their escape, Dr. Makokha worked hard to change the narrative in Kwale. It was not surprising then, when the Medical Practitioners, Pharmacists and Dentists Union was formed, he took up a leadership post in Coast Branch. What was surprising was the transformation of the otherwise soft spoken gentleman into an eloquent and fearless defender of patients' rights and advocate for improved health care.

My first mental image of Kwale county is of drought in the early 2000s. A drought so severe that the people of Kwale were shown on television during prime news scavenging for cactus bulbs to stay alive. Despite years of development in the country, not much changed for Kwale. The poverty in the county remained crippling. It is no wonder then. That the people of Kwale would celebrate when donations of donkey-drawn cart ambulances were made to the local hospitals.

Working as a doctor in Kwale is the most demoralizing and almost self-defeating decision one could take. It requires an iron will. The county inherited hospitals that are barely transformed health centres. The vast county has a small population that is so widely distributed that health access is a myth. The poverty experienced makes seeking healthcare a luxury, hence patients come to hospital when they are one step away from the grave.

He bravely fought for his patients. He withstood hostility from the ruling powers to agitate for improvement of health care in the county for the sake of his patients. He believed in the mantra that the buck stopped with him and he would not pass on that mantle to anyone else. He lived among the people he served and attended to them as his kin with utmost dedication.

His exemplary leadership at the Doctors' union was worth emulating. Never one to be found in front of cameras easily, his wisdom in the boardroom and ability to divorce emotion from facts was remarkable. His respectful and calm demeanor earned him respect from political leaders in Coast region and they were happy to sit with him at the table and seek solutions to the health problems of the region

So how is it then that this gracious gentleman came to be a victim of poverty? How is it that he was taken suddenly ill and could not access basic health care that he so critically needed to stay alive long enough to get to specialized services? In the middle of the night, how did a whole county health system not have a pint of blood to keep him from bleeding out as he was transferred to a specialized facility?

Picture this, the saddest part of all this was that this generous soul died because he spent hours trapped in south coast in an ambulance waiting for a ferry crossing! He bled out waiting for the ferry schedule to be honoured. An ambulance with flashing sirens is not enough to make a ferry break the schedule to save a life. This is Kenya. A civil servant in Kenya, signed up to the NHIF scheme of care, eligible for emergency evacuation by air rescue was failed by the very broken systems he spent the years of his prime fighting to right.

I don't even know how to describe the trauma that his colleagues went through, watching him die in their hands from a preventable cause. Blood is priceless. You don't know that until you need it but can't have it. A few pints availed to him on time would have saved his life.

As we painfully lay him to rest, I pray that his death is not in vain. A key lesson to all of us to agitate proper service delivery from our National Blood Transfusion Services unit. It is abominable that a whole county can lack blood in all its institutions to save life. This happened to a doctor, how much worse is the situation for the poor Maimuna from Kinango?

Blood for transfusion is not manufactured in a laboratory. It comes from us, donated freely to those in need. The label on the blood bag only shows its group, safety screening and expiry date. It knows no race, colour or social status. It unites us like nothing ever will. Play your part, donate blood regularly if you qualify to. And demand that the transfusion services be well coordinated, properly funded and well managed. The colour red should give hope, not signal danger!