As a physician operating within a primary health care environment, it has become customary, nearly anticipated, to encounter patients requesting a drip. Occasionally it follows their symptom reports, while at times, it’s stated immediately upon entry: “Doctor, just give me a drip.” Frequently, the concerns aren’t significant. It may be catarrh, a slight fever, or mere fatigue.

Initially, I found it puzzling. I would review the patient’s history, assess their vitals, and all indicators appeared normal, with nothing suggesting dehydration or any genuine requirement for IV fluids. I’d attempt to clarify, and I could already perceive the disappointment creeping onto their face. They were not interested in discussions about paracetamol or oral medications. They sought something that, in their eyes, resembled actual treatment.

As time progressed, I began to recognize a trend. The majority of these requests originated from patients whose comprehension of healthcare had been influenced by community beliefs or informal counsel. Many had grown up observing IV fluids administered in hospitals, typically for severely ill patients. Somewhere along the way, a conviction emerged: a drip signifies that you are receiving appropriate treatment.

To them, the IV line, the suspended bag, and the gradual infusion into the vein symbolize care, concern, and urgency. In contrast, tablets appear too casual. Some even hold the belief that the body doesn’t properly absorb oral medications. A few patients have expressed sentiments like, “Those meds won’t take effect swiftly unless you provide a drip.”

What astonished me more was the intensity of that belief. I have witnessed patients with minor ailments leaving dissatisfied due to not receiving a drip. I’ve also seen others attempt to persuade nurses or even non-medical personnel to assist them in obtaining it. The demand isn’t always vocal, but it remains persistent, as if they genuinely believe we are withholding something that could benefit them.

And herein lies the complexity: I can empathize with their perspective. Health education is not widespread. Individuals often rely on what they’ve experienced or overheard in their surroundings. Perhaps someone they know recovered rapidly after receiving a drip, or they have had one themselves and felt improved afterward. Such experiences leave a lasting impression.

Nevertheless, this mentality leads to complications. When patients insist on unnecessary drips, it places a burden on the healthcare system. We aim to utilize medical resources judiciously, guided by clinical necessity. Cannulas, IV sets, and fluids — they are not infinite. The time required to establish one could be allocated to another patient genuinely in need of urgent attention. And there are hazards as well, including the risk of infections, fluid overload, and complications at the infusion site. While these occurrences may not be dramatic, they do take place.

Above all, I am concerned about the mindset. When individuals view IV fluids as the supreme solution, they overlook the essence of personalized care. They also risk developing a reliance on interventions that do not effectively improve their condition. Once this mindset takes root, it can be challenging to reverse.

I have refrained from trying to dismiss it outright. Nowadays, I invest a bit more time. I inquire about their beliefs surrounding the drip. I clarify its function, explaining that it primarily consists of salt and water, and unless the body is deficient in those components, it offers little benefit. Occasionally, I employ humor: “If I administer a drip for stress, your stress might just linger outside and return later.” Some patients chuckle. Some continue to insist. Yet, a few genuinely listen. And therein lies the progress. It is not feasible to alter these beliefs in a single visit. Occasionally, they return later and say, “Doctor, I didn’t receive the drip that day, but I still felt fine.” In those moments, I experience a bit of relief. It signifies that something has shifted.

I believe a significant aspect of this is follow-up. When patients are aware they will see you again, they are more inclined to trust you in subsequent visits. It is not about proving them incorrect. It is about cultivating trust gradually and respectfully. Over time, that trust can challenge deeply ingrained assumptions.

There are still days I hear the familiar plea — “Doctor, just give me a drip.” However, now, I don’t exhale in frustration as frequently. I recognize it for what it is: not merely a request for fluids, but an indication that we have considerable work ahead in health education. It serves as a reminder that part of our responsibility, particularly in primary care, involves not only diagnosis and prescriptions but also assisting individuals in unlearning misconceptions.

Thus, I continue to explain. I continue to listen. Because a single conversation may not yield significant change, yet a series of conversations might very well do so.

Akintola Aminat Olayinka is a physician.