By Halima Imam
It was one of those mornings where everything felt like it was going sideways. You know how life can hit you in Nigeria. One moment, you’re up and hopeful, the next, you’re at AA Rano filling station, staring at the pump in disbelief as the attendant happily announces, “Madam, 940 per litre.” Yes, 940. That was the NNPC approved price that fine/ugly/heartbreaking Thursday morning, and my entire soul left my body for a minute. I could feel a tear coming, and not the silent, classy kind. This was the full-on “Why is my country doing this to me?” kind of tear. I had just finished a lengthy rant about the state of Nigeria, fuel subsidies, and how we’re not supposed to keep living like this. I paid for the fuel like a law-abiding citizen, but inside I was screaming.
Fast forward, I was still deep in my “Nigeria must hear word” monologue when my friend called. She’d just returned from the University of Abuja Teaching Hospital, and her story didn’t help my mood. Picture this: after battling through traffic and hospital queues, she finally got ushered in for her ECG scan. But instead of the calm, reassuring face of a woman, there was a man. A whole man. Ready and waiting for her to completely go nude in the upper part of her body and do the scan. The ECG process, for those of us familiar, isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially for conservative women like us. There’s a level of vulnerability involved, and that’s not something we take lightly.
My friend said she nearly fainted, not from the heart condition she was checking, but from the sheer anxiety of having a man carry out such an intimate procedure. I couldn’t help but laugh, but deep down, it struck a chord. Why are female cardiologists such a rare find in this country? Why?
At the University of Abuja Teaching Hospital, and across Nigeria, we are seriously lacking female cardiologists. This scarcity hits especially hard for women like me, who would feel much more comfortable with a fellow woman during such critical and delicate moments. Let’s face it, many of us are raised in environments where modesty and privacy are everything. Imagine going through a potentially life-threatening condition while wrestling with discomfort about who’s treating you. It’s not just about being conservative; it’s about dignity, peace of mind, and a deeper connection that only a fellow woman can provide.
There are medical implications to this shortage too. Women’s heart health can differ significantly from men’s, but if you don’t have enough female specialists, you lose out on a certain level of understanding. Women talking to women often feel safer to express themselves fully. We need more female cardiologists, plain and simple. If you’re thinking about specializing in medicine, sisters, this is your cue! Cardiology isn’t just a field for men in glasses and lab coats, it’s a field where we desperately need more women to step up and provide comfort and care for their fellow women.
Honestly, it’s more than just fixing hearts; it’s about healing entire experiences. So, to all the brilliant young ladies studying medicine right now or even considering the journey, think about us, your sisters. Your future patients are waiting, and we need you to help us feel safe, heard, and treated with respect. Let’s make cardiology the new cool field for women in Nigeria. Because really, at the end of the day, if we can handle 940 naira per litre for fuel, we can handle anything. But a female cardiologist? That would be the real win for us all!
And seriously, when I say “real win,” I mean it in every sense. Imagine walking into the cardiology unit at the University of Abuja Teaching Hospital and being greeted by a kind, capable woman who understands not only your medical condition but also the cultural nuances that shape how you navigate your health. It’s not just about the ECG, or the blood tests, or the consultations. It’s about feeling at ease when you’re discussing something as critical as your heart, knowing that the doctor understands you in a way only another woman can.
But, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: why are there so few female cardiologists in Nigeria? Is it that women aren’t interested in cardiology? Or maybe it’s the stereotypes. You know the ones that say cardiology is “too tough” or “too demanding” for women. This is the same country where women balance entire families, build empires, and still portray steeze doing it. So trust me, cardiology is not too demanding for us!
Maybe it’s that the road to becoming a cardiologist is long and challenging, and societal expectations often push women away from those highly specialized fields. We are expected to “keep it simple,” but our health and lives are far from simple, so why should our careers be?
What we need is encouragement and support for women in medical school to pursue specializations like cardiology. We need mentorship programs that show young women the ropes and prove that not only is cardiology achievable, but it’s absolutely necessary for a healthier, more inclusive healthcare system. Imagine a situation where every woman in need of heart care could confidently say, “I know I’ll be seen by someone who gets me.”
I can’t even count how many times I’ve heard women shy away from seeking heart-related medical care because of fear or embarrassment. That fear of being exposed, both physically and emotionally, can delay critical treatment and worsen conditions. We shouldn’t have to make a choice between our health and our comfort. We need both, and more female cardiologists can make that happen.
So, to all the aspiring medical students out there, listen up! We need you in cardiology, desperately. The field is wide open, and the impact you’ll make is huge. You’re not just treating hearts, you’re healing communities. You’re empowering women to take control of their health without fear or shame. You’re making it easier for your sisters, mothers, aunties, and friends to stay alive and well.
And for my fellow Nigerians, let’s start normalizing the idea that women can, and should, dominate fields like cardiology. We’ve seen women excel in law, politics, and entrepreneurship, there’s no reason medicine, especially in specialized fields, should be any different. Whether it’s encouraging your daughter to take that leap, or offering scholarships and resources to young women in medical school, we all have a role to play.
Who knows, maybe the next time I go for a checkup, I won’t have to pray silently for a woman to walk into the room. Maybe I’ll be confidently greeted by a sister who will not only check my heart but make me feel seen, understood, and safe. Now that would be the Nigeria I dream about!
*Imam writes from axk4lima@gmail.com
