My mum arrived in school, fear and panick etched on her face. I smiled at her assuringly😊 and mumbled a faint, "I'm okay". Together, we went straight to the Siaya County Referral Hospital🏨 with my school uniform still on. I disliked those sympathetic gazes directed at me. Mom talked to a few nurses she knew there and we were directed to a clinician's office through a back door😂. There were hordes of patients waiting in long queues. The clinician was a middle aged woman who liked her hair short, with a flick of stylish cut on the side.
She was donning on a blue floral dress and a short white dust coat that accentuated her profession👩⚕️. From her phone conversations, I gathered that she had recently lost her father to old age sickness, and was seeking several days off to arrange what she called decent burial. However, frustration clouded her expression as the hospital management hesitated to grant her request, citing shortage of staff to cover for her absence.
I proceeded to explain my always racing heartbeat, the abnormal chills, shortness of breath, migraines, low blood levels and everything I had been feeling while in school. The clinician hastily drafted some sketchy notes on a piece of paper and directed me to the x-ray department. The technician there instructed me to remove my shirt and vest before stepping into the cold x-ray room. With my arms outstretched, the imaging device captured the intricate details of my chest. The results were out after a while, burned onto a CD and we returned to the clinician. Upon reviewing the images, she dropped a bombshell.
First, she revealed that I had rheumatic fever😱, and explained in many words how my heart had shrinked, and was not the size of a normal person's heart. She further illustrated, using diagrams, the possibility of a hole, or a foreign growth in my heart😞. I remained unperturbed, having already embraced the philosophy of "liwalo na liwe", let what will be, be. My mom on the other end was stunned beyond words. The revelations caught her by shock. Tears welled up in her eyes😢, but she fought them back because of my presence. Speaking to my mom, the clinician added, "Madam, si ati nakustua, hio ndo ukweli".
She frankly revealed that the hospital had no capacity to provide the help I needed, and in turn referred us to a specialist at the Kisumu Heart Centre. I spent a few days at home feasting on carefully selected meals as mom contemplated on the Kisumu specialist visit. Of course she had to consult a few of her workmates, chama members, neighbors and everybody😂😂. She came from work one of those days and narrated of how a colleague told her of Dr. Owiti, a qualified cardiology specialist at the Avenue Hospital Kisumu.
We hit the road to Kisumu the following day. Having booked an appointment, the doctor was anticipating for us. He conducted a series of diagnostics and ran numerous tests. They ran tests👨🔬🌡 for Brucella Antigen, Malaria smear and antigen, C Reactive protein, Procalcitonin, Full Haemogram, Liver Function, Salmonella Antigen and countless others.
Some beeping machines were attached to my chest, with screens displaying black and white images I could not comprehend. He applied some slimy jell- like stuff on my chest as he slid the imaging device across it. Thereafter, we retreated to his office. Was everything okay?🤔 His expression potrayed deep concern, more than my own.
I hoped for the best while bracing mentally for the worst outcome he would reveal. But alas! The doc was dumbfounded since he could find no abnormalities whatsoever. He proceeded to explain to my mum and in meticulous detail, how my arteries, ventricles and other components of my heart were in near perfect condition , and that my heart was functioning normally.
The doctor resorted to exploring various physical and psychological factors that could be contributing to my ailments. To my astonishment, he requested my mom to step out of the office so that we could have a private "man to man" talk😅. We delved into numerous issues that the doctor suspected might be causing my troubles. He inquired about the adequacy of my pocket money while in school. I thinked twice and said not bad. 😂Not enough but not bad. He questioned my sleeping patterns, my circle of friends, activities I engaged in during the day among other things.
After concluding the talks, he called my mum back to the office and briefed her, admitting that he found nothing substantive from our conversation. He revealed that he did not notice any abnormalities nor any problems. I could not help but notice the perplexed expression on his face. He prescribed some poweful antibiotics and painkillers. The doc assuringly told me he can be my friend, adding that I was welcome to pass by his office anyday for a chat🤝. With best wishes, he bid us goodbye as we departed.👋
With that, I went back to school. But a week or two later, I was again fetched from school under the same conditions😯. This time round, we headed straight to the Kisumu Heart Center along the Kisumu-Kakamega highway. The diagnostic procedure was familiar with those at Avenue, only that here, they were more sophisticated and with big specialized machines. A team of nurses conducted diagnostic tests on me as I lay on a raised bed with spotless white sheets. The results were then presented to a doctor. The same monotonous process unfolded once again😌 with the doctor failing to identify any substantive abnormalities.
I was ushered to the head doctor, a certain Dr. Wafula, an imposing figure from the sides of Kakamega. Dr. Wafula is a consultant physician and lecturer who boasts MBCHB and MMED Internal Medicine accolades from University of Nairobi and a Cardiolgy degree from Yashoda, India👨🎓. Dr. Wafula confirmed the findings and he took the same physical and psychological factors approach as the Avenue doc. He deeply inquired about my school, the meals, the serving system, daily school routines and so much stuff. As expected, they gave some antibiotics and assured us that the problem will wither away with time.
The hospital however drained out our finances since they did not allow payment using any insurance cover, insisting only on cash. As we made past the hospital gates, my mind was in a turmoi🤯l, completely confused. I was wondering how there was so much confusion and controversy surrounding my condition. I made a solemn vow that I was going to study smart and be a doctor myself one day. Being a doctor, I presumed, I would have the knowledge and expertise to diagnose and treat my condition by myself. I didn't know how I would do it, considering that core subjects Chemistry and Mathematics were my worst nightmares😂😂.
That was before Mathematics and Chemistry showed me dust in KCSE exams🤣☺. The condition upto date comes attacking, on and off. However, I blatantly chose to ignore it. Whenever asked, I confidently declare I'm not sick anymore. I grew tired of having to explain to people how I feel time and again. Nevertheless, my hope remains steadfast, for I know that one day I'll become a skilled practitioner of the written word —a literary doctor👨🎓. Regardless of the career path I chose, one thing is certain: I must be a doctor😂😅😅