I was also suffering from memory loss. I couldn't tell my telephone number off-head, yet I knew it so well before I embarked on this torturous journey - yet the only surest way to save my life. Names of most people and past events had also vanished from my memory.
It might sound comical but I would sometimes open my eyes at night and lift my hand to reconfirm that I was still alive, not dead! It is awkward living half-dead.
I struggled to carry my body, which was heavily emaciated by the powerful chemo drugs.
"I'm mentally set for the last dose," I told Dr Dave, almost in a whisper due to painful mouth sores. "No matter the madness it brings, I'll persevere," I added. Dr Dave explained he would give me a lower dose since the fifth one almost dispatched me to the grave. Some patients brave the painful journey only to die on the last chemotherapy. "I can't give up when doing the final bend to win the race," I told the doctor.
A tumour, which was lodged in my throat from mid August 2008 threatening to choke me to death as it elongated, was the destiny that connected me to this incredible stranger.Despite the grim and grave situation I was in, I told myself this was a battle I was determined to win at all cost in the best interest of my son, Kerry Muchiri.
I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, a type of cancer that begins in the lymphatic system; which is part of the body's germ-fighting immune system, by Dr Ranjana J. Sonigra. Dr Sonigra is an Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) specialist, as well as a head and neck consultant surgeon.
Life turned upside down
After physical, X-ray and biopsy examinations, she discovered I had a tumour that had eaten three-quarters of my throat. She told me I had less than one month to live if urgent medical measures wasn't taken.
The mass in my throat had turned my life upside down. I had lost speech. I ate little due to a razor-sharp pain when swallowing food, liquids or saliva. And my trousers had started falling off.
After the tissues from the tumour were analysed at the Aga Khan Hospital's laboratory, Dr Sonigra telephoned me and requested that I see her at her clinic. That night, for the first time in my life, I said a prayer for myself, hoping for good results.
I visited her clinic at Nairobi Women's Hospital on January 28, 2009. Although wearing a forlorn face like a judge reading a death sentence in a courtroom, Dr Sonigra in a motherly tone, delivered the devastating news I had dreaded to hear.
She explained that I had Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, a type of cancer that begins in the lymphatic system, which is part of the body's germ-fighting immunity mechanism.
I was thunderstruck, heartbroken, and numb. My life had suddenly taken a dramatic turn just a day after my son had celebrated his sixth birthday, on January 27, 2009. He had joined Class One earlier that month.
I never disclosed to any of the two doctors that the cancer had struck when I was nursing fresh and painful wounds of betrayal and a broken marriage. I was also in a deep financial hole.