In the waning months after his eight‑year tenure, Buhari’s health turned precarious. At eighty‑plus years old, he faced a cascade of medical setbacks that left his family in turmoil. Former First Lady Aisha Buhari recounts in the newly released biography _From Soldier to Statesman: The Legacy of Muhammadu Buhari_ that the last days were “difficult. ICU for some days, then the ward, then the slide. The last three days were the worst.” She noted that after leaving office his calendar became a relentless stream of funerals, trans‑Atlantic trips, and frantic phone calls – a pattern that intensified in his final year
Aisha described how Buhari’s military past, with 30 months in the bush soaked by rain and harsh conditions, left a legacy of cold lodged in his lungs and bones, aggravated by office air‑conditioning and a history of smoking. Pneumonia emerged as the terminal adversary. In the hospital, his children rotated at his bedside; one daughter even spent the night before his death with him. Doctors diagnosed acute pneumonia, a diagnosis Aisha defended vigorously, insisting no cancer was found and that pneumonia, especially in an elderly patient, can be fatal 
She recalled a poignant moment when a Gambian nurse suggested a pillow to ease his breathing. Together they counted “one, two, three,” yet the weight felt like 50 kg of shared history, so they slipped the pillow sideways – a small compromise that earned a faint “Yes, thank you.” X‑rays, sputum tests and mobile units offered fleeting optimism, but at 2 p.m. she left for home, only to feel an unsettling pull at 4 p.m., the exact moment his breathing stopped
Aisha also addressed the swirl of rumors – leukemia, lung cancer, body‑double conspiracies, even poisoning – all dismissed in her account. She blamed poor strategic communication from the presidency for letting “simple, banal developments” balloon into major conspiracies, leaving Nigerians confused until the very end
The state’s takeover of the burial logistics, she said, curbed attempts by former courtiers to insert themselves into the ritual, protecting the family from further embarrassment. “This is my house,” Aisha asserted, refusing any outsider control over her husband’s office or her personal space







