My father, Alhaji Olukayode Yishau, better known to some people as Kayusco, died October 1. Besides the day being the nation’s 52nd independence anniversary, it was also exactly 42 years since my father and mother lived together as husband and wife.
When my wife, Bimbo, broke the news to our daughter, Opemipo, she chose euphemism to do it. She said: “Grand Pa Agege has gone to heaven.” Opemipo then simply said: “He is with Jesus.” She later added: “that means he is dead.”
He was 68. Before his death, he was up and down for about three weeks. The last thing that ever came to our mind was that he was going to die with what we thought was one of his small illnesses.
According to our mother, the last time he was terrible sick was 41 years ago. Then, they had only my elder sister, Funke, an Education Officer with Onigbongbo Local Council Development Authority. Then, he took a photograph, which still occupies a prime position in his sitting room in his Orile-Agege home, and gave to my mother to use for his obituary. He did not die and lived to sire seven more children. One, Olusola, died painfully in 2001 after years of sickness that medical science could really not explain to us.
Since his death, I have been wondering what could have gone wrong. Could he have lived longer if he had checked his health status very well and take necessary precautions? What made me feel this way was the doctor’s discovery that his heart was not functioning well. Could that have happened suddenly? Or had it been there all along undiscovered?
May be the story of how we discovered what was wrong can help understand my inquisitiveness.
Early morning on October 1, I had called him to explain something. When he picked the call, his voice scared me. He at a point urged me to come and see him if I had time. Even without him asking, I would have gone hearing him speak that way. My wife wanted to come with me. I told her to stay with the kids. She still feels sad she did not go with me.
On getting to the house, he told me a doctor asked him to do ECG. He also showed me the left side of his neck, which appeared abnormal. Two of my uncles were with him. We arranged and got him to go for the ECG. I left for work after making this arrangement.
In the afternoon, my elder brother, Muyiwa, called me and said the doctor said he had heart-related problem and that it was critical. The doctor, a cardiologist, suggested we either allow him to care for our father or take him to LUTH. We ruled out LUTH, which always had issues with bed space and all that. I understand our father even told the doctor that if it was about money, his children would pay. Of course, we paid some money, including for a test he never did. The only thing he waited for was the reading of his heart with a machine my brother, Jide, told me was always writing: “time out”.
The doctor could just not get his pulse. Exactly, 7.43pm, he mistakenly called me asking me to buy him ointment. He was feeling pains on his neck. He got the ointment through my younger brother, but some minutes to 9pm, his time was up. It was God that saw me drive safely to Agege that night.
We have since buried him in Epe according to Islamic rites. I have been told we should thank God that he died a grandfather and all that. But, all that has not answered my question: could he have lived longer if there was proper system through which citizens from time to time check on their health at no killing cost. I have been told that in advanced economies such as the UK and the United States, there are medical insurance in place that ensures citizens check their health status regularly. Even when you don’t know it is time, you are duly informed.
Here we have the National Health Insurance, which has been crawling for decades and working as though bugs are in its system.
Hospitals, especially government-owned ones, are glorified dispensaries. There are no staff to go round the patients. A friend told me recently that his one-year-old daughter needed a simple corrective heart surgery and one of the General Hospitals in Lagos gave him appointment for March next year. Yet, the poor girl sleeps with difficulty everyday, with the parents unable to sleep soundly too. Another friend lost his first child to such lackadaisical approach to healthcare. When are we going to ever get it right?
One major lesson my father’s death has taught me is that we should do regular checkups and not wait for sickness.
I am already making arrangement to examine every major organ in my body, heart, kidney and all to ensure they are in good condition. My only hope is that there will be no wrong diagnosis, which is also an issue around here. The late Chief Gani Fawehinmi had a bitter experience before he died. A popular radio presenter, ChazB, narrated how a supposed expert in a Magodo hospital told him a man was a match for his kidney transplant, only for doctors in India to discover he was wrong. He almost lost his life in the process before his wife readilly gave her kidney to keep him alive.
But despite this occasional misses, it is good to even have an idea if all is well with our organs. Please don’t wait for death.
For now, I rest my case. Adieu father till we meet to path no more. Your wife, Titilayo and children, Olufunke, Olumuyiwa, Olukorede, Olujiide, Oluwabukola, Olumide and Oluwaseun miss you. The grandchildren and well-wishers do too. Rest well, my dear father who came, saw and conquered. The Nigerian Association of Auctioneers (NAA), in which you played a leadership role, also misses you. Bye for now, dear father. Bye for now.
