When "I Do" breaks: The growing trend of spouses disappearing when illness, challenges strike

When illness strikes, some vows are tested, and not all survive the moment.

Couples stand before family and faith leaders every weekend, exchanging vows that sound absolute. In sickness and in health. For better or worse. Till death do us part. It is a promise that assumes loyalty will hold, even when everything else falls apart. 

But behind closed doors, a different reality is quietly unfolding. Across Kenya, stories are emerging of spouses who walk away, withdraw or simply disappear when illness strikes.  

What is often presented publicly as a stable marriage is, in some cases, being exposed as a fragile arrangements that collapse under pressure. 

At the centre of the latest conversation is Kenyan media personality Kamene Goro, whose recent account of a near-death hospitalisation has triggered scrutiny not just about her survival, but about her marriage. 

When doctors told her she had only hours to live, Kamene says she was forced to confront a truth that went beyond her condition. The people she thought would stand by her were not necessarily the ones present. 

When the doctors gave her six hours to live, Kamene discovered that the only thing more fragile than her health was the loyalty of those she called ‘ride or die’, including his husband, DJ Bonez. 

Her illness escalated rapidly, moving from persistent discomfort to a full-blown emergency that landed her in the Intensive Care Unit.  

At one point, she recalled being woken up by a doctor who calmly told her that time was running out. “We have about four, five, six hours. Hours of you being alive,” doctors told her. 

She was rushed into emergency surgery. The procedure was extensive after an initial minimally invasive attempt failed. Doctors had to open her up fully, eventually removing litres of infection from her abdomen in a desperate effort to stabilise her. 

Recovery was slow and brutal. She spent days in the ICU, followed by time in the High Dependency Unit (HDU) and the general ward.  

There were complications along the way, including issues with her lungs that required further intervention. She had to relearn how to walk.  

At times, she said, she hallucinated, recalling seeing coffins being moved through the ward at night, something nurses later denied. 

But beyond the physical ordeal, it is what happened around her that has sparked public debate. As she lay in the hospital, fighting for her life, Kamene began to take note of who was present. 

Her mother was there. Her sister acted quickly and stayed involved. A small circle of friends stepped in, offering physical and emotional support. 

But one absence has dominated public conversation - her husband, DJ Bonez, was not there during her time in ICU and HDU. 

Kamene noted that Bonez gave an excuse of not being able to stand seeing her in that state in the ICU. 

“The people who were there are not the people I thought would be there. My husband was absent during this difficult time with the excuse of not being able to stand seeing me in the hospital bed,” she said. 

“The one who you’re saying is your bloody ride or die… yeah, probably not,” she added. 

It is a statement that has ignited speculation and debate across social platforms, with many questioning what it says about modern marriages. 

In a society where celebrity couples often project unity and strength, such revelations disrupt the image. They force a shift from perception to reality. 

Because when one partner is fighting for their life, the expectation is simple. You show up - anything less becomes a question. 

Marriage counsellor Jane Muthoni says Kamene’s experience reflects a growing pattern that is often hidden from public view. 

“There is an increasing number of cases where partners withdraw during serious illness. Some physically leave, others are emotionally absent. It is not always visible to outsiders, but it is happening,” she notes. 

According to Muthoni, many couples enter marriage without confronting the realities of crisis. 

“People prepare for weddings, not for hardship. When illness comes, it exposes whether the relationship was built on depth or convenience,” she observes. 

Muthoni adds that while some partners withdraw out of fear or emotional overload, the impact on the person left behind is the same. 

“It feels like abandonment. And that is very difficult to repair.”  

According to religious leaders, the issue goes beyond individual relationships and speaks to how marriage itself is being understood. 

Pastor Samuel Njoroge says the vow ‘in sickness and in health’ is often treated as symbolic rather than binding. 

“It is not just a phrase for the wedding day. It is a commitment to remain present when things are difficult. That is the foundation of marriage,” he notes. 

He warns that failure to uphold that commitment can have lasting consequences. 

“When one partner is absent during a crisis, it breaks trust. Even if the marriage continues, that memory does not disappear,” says pastor Njoroge. 

Kamene’s experience has brought those issues into the spotlight. 

Her reflections suggest a shift in how she now views loyalty. It is no longer about titles or public perception. It is about action. “I learnt a lot about who I need in my life,” she said. 

That lesson has translated into a more guarded approach to relationships. She describes herself as calmer, less social and more intentional about who she allows into her space. 

Her message is blunt. 

“Value the people who value you. And I know you know the trash in your life. Drop that trash.” 

For many, that statement has been interpreted as more than general advice. It is seen as a direct response to what she experienced. And her story is not isolated. 

In Nairobi’s Tassia estate, 54-year-old Stephen Phinehas Ndivo lives a quieter version of the same reality.  

Once a preacher, his life changed after a stroke left him partially paralysed. But the deeper blow came when his family left. 

“When I came back, my wife and children had left,” he reveals. Today, he lives alone, relying on limited support to get through daily life.

“I have lost almost all my friends,” he adds. 

His case, like Kamene’s, highlights a trend that experts say is more common than people admit. Illness does not just test the body. It tests relationships. 

And not all of them pass. 

Some partners stay and take on the burden of caregiving. Others step back, overwhelmed or unwilling. Some disappear entirely. 

What remains is a growing conversation about whether marriage, as it is practised today, is equipped to handle real-life challenges. 

Kamene’s account has forced that conversation into the open. Not through confrontation, but through implication, through absence and through a statement that continues to resonate with many Kenyans. 

“The one who you’re saying is your bloody ride or die… yeah, probably not.”  

It is a line that cuts through the idealised version of marriage and replaces it with something more uncomfortable. 

Because in the end, vows are easy to make. The real test is whether they hold when life stops being convenient. 

And for a growing number of couples, that test is revealing cracks that can no longer be ignored.