Nurses strike could make me never walk again

Three months ago, Christopher Kimutai lay tethered on a hospital bed, engulfed by the beeping of machines. Every breath he took was painful. But somehow, he managed to muster all his strength and make one final request to the attending doctor:

“Cut it off! Cut off this leg off now!” he yelled, unable to take the explosions of pain that would jolt his foot and spread through his entire body.

The doctor increased his dosage of painkiller and told him to wait.

“It is pain that drives you crazy. My tears would roll involuntarily, even when I kept telling myself that I should not be crying,” Kimutai told Saturday Standard at his Machakos home.

Kimutai, a 26-year-old rugby player, was involved in an accident when he stumbled into a ditch during a light jogging session while on a short visit to Tanzania. He landed in a trench, breaking his leg, and later developed compartmental syndom – a condition that causes localised swelling. He needed to come home and get specialised care. There was, however, one problem: nurses in Kenya were on strike.

“I knew my recovery was dependent on nursing care,” he said.

 He stayed in a hospital in Tanzania hoping to ride out the strike but days turned into months, yet there was no good news coming his way.

 “We did not anticipate things would be so difficult. When he arrived, we had to organise for our own nurse to check on the wound and dress it,” says his mother Maureen Kimutai.

It has been 30 days since Kimutai came back to Kenya with a septic wound, but for him, the days seem like months. Months of pain, horror, heavy expenses, and sadly, the realisation that he may never walk, unless nurses return to work.

“I need physiotherapy, and my wound should be checked every day to ensure it is healing well. We have to hire a private nurse for all this,” he says.

At a public facility, it would cost Sh100 per day for dressing, but in a private hospital, the amount can be as high as Sh1,000 per day. 

He says he still feels pain. So intense that even a mosquito landing on his foot sends a shock wave of pain through his whole body.

“Sometimes, all I need is someone to help me lift my foot; or someone who can assure me that I am not crazy, and the pain will go away,” he says.

He misses the days he was hospitalised in Tanzania, and he could access nurses who would help him move, administer his medication and ensure he was comfortable.

He adds that as he watches his wound heal, and enjoys the slow wiggle of toes that show he is gaining sensation at his extremities, he is anxious to see if nurses will return to work and improve his chances of returning to his previous life.

“My walking depends on them. And God of course,” he says with a gleeful smile before his expression shifts to that of worry. And then he pauses: “I wonder if it will be soon.”

Until then, he waits.?