He vowed for better for worse, to love and hold. Cancer made it a battlefield

George Kagina during the interview at Murang'a Level 5 Hospital on April 15, 2026. [Maryann Muganda, Standard] 

George Kagina still remembers the vows he made years ago at St Michael’s Kiranga Catholic Church in Kandara, Murang’a County. “To love and to hold, in sickness and in health.”

At the time, they sounded like ordinary wedding words, spoken with joy before family, friends and God. He had no way of knowing how brutally life would one day test them.

Today, his wife Rachel Mwihaki Kagina, 50, lies weak on a hospital bed at Murang’a Level 5 Hospital, her body ravaged by stage 4B cervical cancer and fistula — a double burden that has robbed her of her dignity, mobility and nearly her life.

George has barely left her side. When The Standard meets him within the hospital compound, he looks exhausted. His face carries sleepless nights, worry and the silent desperation of a man running out of options.

Yet he keeps moving. He had come to Murang’a after hearing an announcement on a local radio station about a fistula medical camp sponsored by the Mpesa Foundation and Amref Health Africa.

“Okay, my name’s George Kagina. I hail from Kiranga, that is Kandara Constituency in Murang’a,” he begins hurriedly, as though afraid nobody will listen if he pauses too long.

“I have an issue whereby my wife was diagnosed with cervical cancer far back in 2024.” He speaks with urgency, words tumbling over each other.

“It all started as a small problem,” he says. “She attended Kandara Hospital where she was advised to go to either Thika or Maragua. After a scan doctors had found there was some growth in her belly.”

At Maragua General Hospital doctors carried out further examinations, including a biopsy.  “It is from there that doctors noticed she was suffering from cancer cells. According to the results, it was stage 2B,” he says.

The diagnosis marked the beginning of a painful and exhausting journey.

Rachel was referred to the Kenyatta University Teaching, Referral and Research Hospital (KUTRRH) in Nairobi for specialised treatment. There, doctors scheduled her for 25 radiotherapy sessions and five chemotherapy cycles.

For the Kaginas, treatment became a full-time battle. “We had to move all the way from Kandara to Nairobi on a daily basis. Our waking time was too early because by 6am we were supposed to be there.

Gruelling treatment

The treatment was gruelling. The financial burden was worse.  At home, life was collapsing under the pressure of illness. The couple’s young son was then in Grade Three. Every morning before travelling to Nairobi, they had to make arrangements for the child before rushing to hospital appointments.

Neighbours stepped in occasionally. Their church community tried to help. Sometimes, strangers donated blood when Rachel’s levels dropped dangerously low. But the cancer did not retreat. After completing the first round of chemotherapy and radiotherapy, Rachel showed no signs of improvement.

Doctors recommended another line of chemotherapy. Then Rachel’s condition worsened. “She became anaemic,” George explains. “We were told it was a result of the radiotherapies.”

The hospital trips continued. By late 2025, doctors at KUTRRH noticed signs of kidney complications. “They told us they had noticed discomfort in her kidneys and she had to have catheters installed,” George says.

The procedure was done in November 2025. After that, Rachel never really recovered.

“She was walking,” George says. “But by the time the catheters were installed, she was not able to move again.”

As Rachel remained admitted at KUTRRH, George says doctors called him aside and delivered the most devastating news of the entire ordeal.

“They told me that for the period they had been treating Rachel, she had become resistant to medication,” he says, pausing. “And now the cancer had grown to stage 4B.” He goes silent for several seconds. “It was so shocking,” he finally whispers wiping his tears away. “So shocking.”

The oncology team recommended another line of palliative chemotherapy using a drug known as Bevacizumab, commonly referred to as Beva.

The cost was crushing. “The medicine was costing around Sh141,000 per treatment and there were supposed to be five cycles,” George says. 

George’s family was drowning financially. Hospital bills, blood tests, medication, transport and specialised care pushed them deeper into debt.

Complications

At one point, Rachel’s hospital bill at KUTRRH accumulated to more than Sh1.1 million. George says social health workers eventually intervened to help reduce part of the burden.

But even before they could recover, another devastating complication emerged. After the second cycle of Beva treatment, Rachel started bleeding heavily again. Doctors told George they needed to perform emergency radiotherapy to stop the haemorrhaging.

“They told me there were risks of getting fistula,” he says. “I had to agree.”

Soon after the emergency radiotherapy, Rachel developed fistula. Now, stool uncontrollably passes through the front part of her body every few minutes due to severe tissue damage caused by the cancer and radiation. 

Fistula, doctors explain, is an abnormal opening between organs that should not be connected, leading to uncontrolled leakage of bodily waste and severe suffering.

Dr Dennis Miskellah, a gynaecologist who has worked extensively with fistula cases, says unlike obstetric fistula, which is caused by prolonged obstructed labour, cancer-related fistula is among the most complex conditions in medicine.

“The most and biggest fistula we struggle to fix is fistula in the background of cancer,” he explains. “The tissues around there are all dead. They are all rotting. So you cannot even surgically intervene.”

He adds that radiation-related fistula is becoming increasingly common as more Kenyan women access cancer treatment.

For Rachel, the condition has transformed ordinary caregiving into relentless labour. George now spends most of his days cleaning bed sheets, washing clothes, changing protective materials on the mattress and trying to keep Rachel comfortable. “The cancerous cells have a very nasty smell,” he says. “You have to be very strong. If you are weak, you can run away.”

Their son, now in Grade Five, struggles to understand what has happened to his mother. “When we came home from hospital he told me, ‘My mum has become so thin,’” George says.

“I tell him she will be alright.” But even George no longer knows if that is true.

Rachel now survives on special diets depending on what little appetite she can tolerate. “Her diet has to be very expensive and very specific,” George explains. “Sometimes she takes one bite and cannot continue.”

The emotional burden is crushing. “There are moments she cries because of pain,” he says. “There are moments she cannot sleep.”

Dr Miskellah says Rachel’s condition reflects a broader national health crisis one that is largely preventable.

Nine women die from cervical cancer every day in Kenya, he says, a figure he calls unacceptable given that the disease is both preventable and treatable.

“We know what causes it, the human papillomavirus,” he says.

HPV vaccines, he explains, are available in public hospitals and should ideally be administered to girls between nine and 14 years before sexual debut. For adult women, regular pap smears — recommended every three years for those who are HIV-negative — can detect early changes before cancer develops.

“When you pick it up early, you treat it very early,” he says.

The church has become one of George biggest pillars. “I must thank the church,” George says. “They have been of great aid to us. Even the local community.”

But gratitude alone cannot pay hospital bills. Rachel has completed only two of the five required palliative chemotherapy cycles.

George fears they may never afford the rest. “The biggest fear now is financial constraints,” he says.

For now, he spends most of his time beside Rachel’s hospital bed, wiping her forehead, cleaning wounds, changing sheets and whispering words of comfort he hopes she still believes.

And despite the cancer, the fistula, the debt, the sleepless nights and the fear, George Kagina is still trying to keep it.