There is a reason doctors administer an epidural.

It is not because the pain has disappeared. It is because the pain has become unbearable.

The source of the pain remains. The injury remains. The labour continues. The surgery is still ongoing. But the patient can now endure what would otherwise have been intolerable.

That, sadly, is where Nigeria finds herself today: Our nation is on epidural.

For many Nigerians, the last few years have been among the most difficult in living memory. Food prices have climbed beyond the reach of ordinary families. Transportation has become a luxury for many workers. Rent, school fees, electricity, healthcare, security and basic necessities now consume incomes that have not kept pace with inflation.

Yet, strangely, we are not hearing as much outrage as the economic reality would ordinarily provoke. Not because things have improved. But because we have become accustomed to the pain.

Like a patient under epidural, we still know something is wrong. We know the discomfort is there. We simply no longer react with the same intensity because we have adjusted to surviving under abnormal conditions.

Nigerians are masters of adaptation.

We now celebrate buying half a loaf of bread instead of a full one. We quietly reduce the number of meals eaten each day. Families postpone hospital visits until illnesses become emergencies. Parents quietly remove children from expensive schools. Social outings disappear. Vacations become memories. Meat becomes an occasional visitor on many dining tables.

We call it “adjustment.” But adjustment should never be mistaken for recovery.

One of the most dangerous things about prolonged hardship is that it changes our expectations. We begin to accept what we should reject.

We applaud the return of electricity for six hours because we have forgotten what twenty-four hours looked like.

We celebrate roads that should have been completed years ago. Even roads that are in conception stages are celebrated.

We rejoice over gratuities, salaries  pension and it arrears paid. Things that should be routine.

We are grateful for small mercies because we have lived too long without basic governance. The epidural has dulled our expectations.

The danger is that governments can mistake silence for satisfaction. Citizens are no longer protesting because they are busy surviving.

Every extra naira is committed before it is earned. Every household has become a financial planning department.
And Every Nigerian has developed survival strategies that would impress the world’s leading business schools.

But survival is not prosperity. Endurance is not development. Managing pain is not the same as healing.

Even more worrying is how we have begun to laugh about our suffering.

Humour has become our national coping mechanism. We joke about empty pockets. We laugh about fuel prices. We create memes about hunger. We turn frustration into comedy because sometimes laughter is cheaper than therapy.

There is nothing wrong with resilience. In fact, resilience is one of Nigeria’s greatest strengths. But resilience should never become an excuse for poor leadership or failed policies.

A nation cannot continue to rely on the extraordinary endurance of its people while expecting ordinary results.

An epidural is designed to be temporary. If doctors leave a patient permanently dependent on pain relief without treating the underlying illness, they have failed in their duty.

The same principle applies to governance.

The objective cannot simply be helping Nigerians endure hardship. The objective must be to eliminate the conditions creating the hardship.

Policies should not merely reduce today’s pain while creating tomorrow’s crisis.

Leadership should not be measured by how much suffering citizens can tolerate but by how much unnecessary suffering can be removed. Nigeria deserves more than pain management.

The day we mistake numbness for recovery is the day we stop demanding genuine progress.

For now, many Nigerians are still moving, still working, still praying, still smiling and still believing. But beneath the smiles lies a nation quietly whispering what every patient eventually says:
“The pain is still there.”

The epidural has only made it bearable.