WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN THE MRI ROOM? DOCTORS BREAK THEIR SILENCE ON THE DEATH OF CHIMAMANDA ADICHIE’S SON.

CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE

In Nigeria, we constantly tell ourselves a lie, we believe that if we have enough money and the right connections, we can escape the chaos of our failing healthcare system. We think that by paying for the most expensive hospitals, we’ve bought a shield for our families but the tragic death of Nkanu Nnamdi, the son of the famous author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, has completely shattered that belief. It has shown us a terrifying reality; if a child from one of the most powerful and respected families in the country can walk into a top hospital for a basic procedure and not walk out, then absolutely none of us are safe. It doesn't matter who you are or what is in your bank account; in a broken system, we are all just one mistake away from tragedy.

Nkanu Nnamdi was taken to Euracare Hospital in Lagos for what should have been a routine step, an MRI and a small procedure to prepare him for a flight to a top hospital in America. Chimamanda’s account of that day is heartbreaking, she described her son being sedated with a drug called Propofol, allegedly given too much of it and then left without anyone properly watching him until his heart stopped.

Euracare Hospital defended itself, saying they followed all the rules and that the boy was already very sick when he arrived, but in order to understand what really happens behind those closed hospital doors, I was privileged to speak with several doctors who gave me their honest, off-the-record opinions. They explained that what looks like a simple mistake to us is often a very complicated and high-pressure situation for them.

They talked about the drug Propofol, which many people now fear. One doctor said,“Propofol is great because it works fast, but it’s dangerous because it makes you stop breathing. In an MRI room, the machines don't always work right because of the magnets so the doctor has to be the human monitor and if they look away for even a minute, they’ve lost the chance to save that child". He said if Propofol was what killed her child, then an autopsy should be done and that the medical team shouldn't be judged except they know the facts in this case. The only person he said he would judge till all the facts are out is Dr. M, for coming out to tell the child's father that the anesthesiologist gave the child too much Propofol, because that was uncalled for and pure evil.

Another doctor said that when things go wrong, the doctor is often the first to take the blame and that’s an unfortunate reality of medicine, no matter how careful or skilled a physician is, people look for someone to hold accountable. He also pointed out that no doctor in Nigeria would casually manage a child like Adichie’s. The stakes are too high and every decision is weighed with caution and experience and then there’s Propofol. If someone like Michael Jackson could die from it, you know it’s not something to handle lightly, so doctors must be certain of what they’re dealing with before using such powerful medications.

When I asked why the boy even needed a "central line" if he was flying out the next day, the doctors explained that it was actually for his own safety. In his words, “Medicine is not magic; it is judgment under pressure. A regular drip can fail during a long flight and if that happens in the middle of the ocean, you can't give the boy life-saving meds. The central line wasn't an extra test; it was his seatbelt for the journey.”

But there’s another side to this that doctors rarely talk about; the VIP pressure. When a world-famous family walks into a hospital, the doctors feel an intense need to be perfect. A doctor admitted to me that sometimes, this pressure makes them over-do things. They might move too fast or order too many tests because they are scared of failing under the spotlight. Ironically, trying too hard to be perfect can lead to the very mistakes they are trying to avoid.

The truth is, this tragedy shows us that Nigeria’s healthcare system is a shield full of holes and even when the intentions are good, the high-stakes pressure of our hospitals can lead to results we can't take back. In the words of one of the doctors, “Medicine is not magic; it is probability and risk”, we want certainty, but we are often left with what-ifs. This loss isn't just a family's tragedy; it’s a national wake-up call that medicine, at its core, is still human and humans can fail."