Inside my struggle with three cancers, nine miscarriages
Caroline Gathoni Wanjiru during the interview at her home in Nairobi on March 30, 2022.
What you need to know:
- Her husband fled and later came for her two kids ostensibly for a holiday treat, never to be seen again.
- Living in solitude has brought her mental distress to the point that she has contemplated suicide.
This is the story of a 28-year-old woman diagnosed with two types of cancer – cervical and leukemia – and another suspected one in her liver.
As if the cancers are not enough to twist the knife in the wound of life, she, again, has a hole in the right side of her heart and has developed low blood sugar.
Her husband fled and later came for her two kids ostensibly for a holiday treat, never to be seen again. It has been months since the children were taken.
Living in solitude has brought mental distress that has taken a toll on her to the point that she has contemplated suicide.
After joining a support group, she now lives every day with the hope of living a normal life one day. She spoke with our Health and Science reporter Hellen Shikanda, and this is her story.
My name is Caroline Gathoni Wanjiru, but my peers call me Ciru. I was born and raised in Kihingo village, Limuru, Kiambu County.
My mother is a single parent and I am her only child. I lived most of my life with my grandmother, whose wings I became fond of and not once did I outgrew them.
I grew up healthy and never had any health complications. I loved taking care of people from a young age, no wonder I took up the nursing profession.
Before life slapped me with a startling surprise, I had a stint at Mater Hospital, where I practised my profession.
On April 28 next month, I will be turning 29 years old and I want to celebrate my birthday with people like me. My support group members from Lady Hope.
I want that hope to live, they too yearn for that hope, devoid of pain. I want them to be happy, just for a day.
How did I get here? You may ask...
I wish I had an answer for how I got cancer but, really, is there any? My husband and I had been trying get a baby for a long time. No, I am not barren.
I conceived, nine times, and all the nine attempts of conception went down the drain through miscarriages. I gave birth to my first child, a son, in 2013.
At the time, I was fit as a fiddle and together, we raised our son the best way we could.
Caroline Gathoni Wanjiru. Her husband fled and later came for their two kids.
Just before 2018, a year before my second child was born, I had this weird vaginal bleeding that could not stop.
I conceived her around the same time and once a woman is pregnant, visiting the hospital is inevitable since she has to attend prenatal clinics.
First, doctors noticed candidiasis, a fungal ailment commonly known as yeast infection. They gave me antibiotics to treat it and asked me to go to hospital with my spouse, who did not comply. Blood gushed out of me like tap water.
I could use one packet of sanitary towels a day, yet, I was pregnant. Later, I was told that I had pelvic inflammatory disease. It affected my pregnancy journey and my baby was born prematurely, at 28 weeks.
On the day my baby was born, I developed a bacterial infection called chorioamnionitis, which makes the amniotic fluid turn green.
That was a red flag that called for an emergency caesarean section.
In the surgery room, the doctors noticed something amiss. They told me that I had a small mass of something that may not necessarily be cancerous. They took it out and a test had to be taken to ascertain their suspicions.
That was the worst day of my life. I looked at my baby, who was in the incubator fighting for her life through a machine.
Thoughts raced through my mind and the possibility of having cancer scared me stiff. I did not want that reality.
Despite being in the medical field, I could not believe that one day a doctor would call me, counsel me and drop them bomb, that I have been diagnosed with cancer. Not me. Not even in a mythical world.
But well, reality knocked, and it did, so hard… I had to accept and learn to live with my new condition.
My results came out positive and I was diagnosed with cervical cancer stage 2A.
I was shocked. My husband was told about it and was taken through the dos and don'ts that he had to adhere to in order to avoid putting me at risk.
One of them was that he should not make me pregnant. My baby matured and we were discharged from the hospital.
My marriage took the same route my health had taken, another unexpected slap. There was a visible energy shift that screamed disinterest from my husband.
One morning, the father of my children woke up and asked me to leave our house with the two children. He said that without flinching.
I shared with my neighbour and confidante, with whom I had much in common. Before I left, my husband had become violent and I became his punching bag.
We would go days without food yet I had a baby who was barely a year old. I had to leave my matrimonial home and start a new life in Rongai, Kajiado County.
It was in Rongai that my friend introduced me to my support group, Lady Hope. I was not ready to join. I knew I was not going to make it, anyway.
When I went to the first meeting, I found people whose complications were worse than mine. That gave me a string of strength…strength is strength and it sure bears some hope.
When I went for my first chemotherapy, I learnt that I was pregnant. I did not know, until my doctor asked me to disclose anything they should know.
I said I had told them everything they needed to know. It is then that they told me that I was expectant.
Despite being in the medical field, I could not believe that one day a doctor would call me, counsel me and drop them bomb, that I have been diagnosed with cancer.
This is despite my husband being taken through the dos and don'ts. My chemotherapy had to be cancelled. Before you spell any judgment on me, I do not use family planning.
It does not work in my body. I don’t know why.
I was then admitted to Kenyatta National Hospital, GFA room number one, where I stayed for some time as they took care of my unborn child. I lost him.
Losing the baby meant that I could now have chemotherapy. I had about seven sessions of chemotherapy but the doctors noticed I was losing a lot of blood. I was told that I need to get a blood transfusion because I have low haemoglobin levels.
So far, I have received about 170 pints from well-wishers. No matter how much I try, I am still not able to retain blood.
In the process, a friend told me to take a body booster injection. That was the worst mistake I had made and I would not advise anyone to go that route.
I look healthy but my immunity is weak. I still lose blood and my life is dependent on pads and adult diapers. I cannot hold urine. Even so, urinating is painful as a thick discharge and clots come out first anytime I feel like going for a short call.
I could strain a lot doing simple tasks, which made me get a test for my chest. I was told that I have a hole in my heart. I am now sensitive to most things like loud bangs and being woken up suddenly.
When I could not feed on my own, the doctors found a way to get food into me. I had to get a central line insertion because my veins were elusive.
The catheter was placed on the upper part of my left leg. This is where the drugs and food are administered. I take liquid supplements of the Ensure brand, which costs about Sh1,930 a cylinder.
Another eventuality was discovered when doctors were placing the central line during surgery. They suspected that I could be having cancer of the blood.
Their prognosis was confirmed. I, too, have leukemia.
The vaginal blood that comes out of me smells so bad. I can’t even go out.
Painkillers sustain me but lately, they have become expensive. I get two doses of the pethidine injection a day. While it would cost me Sh100 before, because there are stock-outs, it now costs about Sh200.
This has been a terrible year because I have bouts of memory loss. A month ago, after the central line was placed, I lost my voice. I was seated on my couch alone and my friends were in the kitchen.
My throat became dry and I could not shout at them. When they came to check on me, I still could not talk. I regained my voice later and the first word I said was ‘Gaai’. It felt just that, a surprise.
In December last year, again, I got another piece of bad news. That the cancer had spread to the liver. All these things in one body. Now, I urgently need 25 pints of blood. I am not looking forward to chemotherapy.
I have been told that I should go for palliative care. While I believe I have faith that can move mountains, palliative care is a last-resort place. A place where doctors will manage my pain.
But still, I shall rise. To everyone reading this, please go for cancer screening. The earlier the better.
