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Over the counter
In Sikaman, I can bet that almost everybody you see is either a doctor or a pharmacist. If you’re sick, you don’t need to go to the hospital to see a doctor. Just see a friend and tell him your problem. “I have strong headache, bodily pains and loss of appetite.”
Your friend will look into your face and prophesy that you’re also suffering from constipation. Probably your nose looks like that of a chronic ‘constipator’.
“I can’t go to toilet”, you’d readily confirm.
“Don’t worry. Go and buy Chloroquine, four tablets, take two in the morning after koko and two in the evening. Also buy WL; if your stomach is hard take three, otherwise take two. Don’t forget and take four. Also don’t take it and go and board a bus to Kumasi or else you’ll set a national record.
See another friend with the same problem and he’d tell you to go and get Alagbin. “If there is no Alagbin, buy Drastin or Top Tabs. The malaria will go like water.
Meet yet another friend and he is likely to tell you, “Go and buy abom belt (terramycin or ampicillin). Take two straight. Wait for thirty minutes and balance it with three tots of raw akpeteshie. The fever will go long time. Me, this is how I cure my fever-o! Me I’ll never go to hospital and a nurse will be pricking my buttocks with a needle. I am not a fool”.
Somehow, all the four prescriptions by the unorthodox medical practitioners are effective but only to some extent. They can mask the disease called malaria and the patient will experience a sense of relief, but a relapse is inevitable.
In fact, if you’re sick of malaria and you ‘check’ a quarter of bitters, you’ll start sweating like a dock worker. Sweat will burst Alomele forth all over the body and will finally create an air-conditioner in the armpit, a sort of natural cooling system one can always rely upon.
The effect of this local alcohol which surpasses Russian Vodka in international status and ability to turn the human eye, will make you feel the malaria has been evicted from your system. In due course, you certainly will come to appreciate the fact that peters is not a cure for malaria.
From 6.30 p.m., go from one drugstore to another and you’ll see many people buying drugs over the counter. Only about five per cent of them buy with doctors’ prescription.
The rest are self-made, self-promoted doctors and pharmacists who buy butazolidin, malarex, chloroquine, phensic, baralgin, valium, cafenol, kaolin, anusol, chloramphenicol, anacin and many others by their own prescriptions.
Even you can buy syringes over the counter and that is why some herbalists are going about injecting anybody they see. In the process they distribute tetanus free of charge. They are very generous!
We are all guilty of self-medication including me Kwame Alomele. I don’t often cure my malaria by going to the doctor when I know I am also a doctor. The only difference is that I’ve not been to the medical school and sworn the Hippocratic Oath.
Although I realise that self-medication is bad, I’m compelled to do it because it saves me time. Kokotako says he self-medicates because it saves him from the wrath of private doctors who always want to empty his back pocket.
In developed countries over-the-counter drug purchases are forbidden. The druggist may sell you some pain killers and condoms if you want to have a showdown with your fiancée.
But to go to a pharmacist and say you want to buy Indocid without a doctor’s prescription is unheard of, and of course, you’d be given the marching off orders.
Self-medication is a form of drug abuse which must not be encouraged. This form of abuse is common in third world countries because families do not have their own doctors.
Ideally every family is supposed to have a family doctor who comes around periodically to examine the members, offer treatment and advice.
Any ailment is first relayed to him by phone and he gives appropriate advice. He is paid a regular fee, for these services. In Sikaman, only about one per cent of the population can afford the services of a family doctor. The money that would be used to pay the family doctor a week would be of better service if used to prepare groundnut soup that would last some three days.
So in the absence of the family doctor, many act in his stead and do their own by diagnoses, give their own prescriptions often by trial and error and risk wrong medication, under-doses, over-doses. After all, “All die be die”.
Perhaps if health services could be cheaply sought, self-medication will reduce. This brings to mind the idea of the National Health Insurance Scheme and its advantages. Certain diseases like heart ailment that need surgery to correct require between Gh¢ six and 10 million in terms of cost.
The Weekly Spectator has had to launch appeals for funds for those who need money to cure medical conditions including Hole-In-Heart. Some of these appeals will not be necessary if a National Health Insurance Scheme is in place to which anybody who values his health and life could contribute to and benefit therefrom.
This will also reduce the incidence of self-medication because your health needs will always be catered for whether you are suffering from kooko or stubborn constipation.
Perhaps, we’d want to know why the scheme is still not in place!
This article was first published on Saturday, October 15, 1994
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