NOTE: I started writing this post at the end of June 2015. Today is 21st July 2015. I wonder how long this will take!
It has been a CRAZY June. I still can’t believe it. So Mrs. Adrian came back from her second PRRT treatment in India on Sunday 24th May. She had gone with Skinny who had been really unwell the week before. We actually thank God that she was able to take Mrs. Adrian for her treatment. As soon as Skinny got home, she showered, unpacked, re-packed and left immediately to go abroad (Homa Bay is abroad according to our little Dzariguta niece) for work. Hipilicious picked them up from the airport and Mrs. Adrian didn’t look too strong after the treatment. However, she seemed happy to be back.
Hipilicious had been telling Skinny and I that she had a stomachache that she couldn’t explain. We suggested all sorts of home remedies – from drinking hot water, to massaging her tummy, to not eating her favourite food (banana cake) for a while, etc. She complained for about two nights then one morning (night for me because I was in Portland) she sent the following message, “Inflamed appendix. It is being removed”. What!? First thought was, oh no. The family holiday that we had postponed for over a year (we paid for it last year in May!) was to happen in a week. Will we have to postpone again?! She said no, the doctors have assured her that she could fly in 4 – 5 days. So I called Mrs. Adrian to ask how Hipilicious was doing.
Poa! I am blessed of the Lord.
Yeah. Sasa, Pe yuko aje?
I don’t know. I left her sleeping when I prepared to come to the office. (Yeah, mum doesn’t waste time in woiye woiye stuff. She goes back to work the day after she gets back to Nairobi)
Ahem. Ma. She sent a message on Whatsapp. She is at Aga Khan.
Aga Khan? But I thought I left her in bed?
No, she left at 4am to go to Aga Khan and they said that her appendix is inflamed and they are preparing her for surgery.
Lord Jesus help us. What? You mean she is not at home? Can I go to a hospital so soon after my treatment?
Nope. You just go home…..
So that’s how Hipilicious got admitted to hospital and none of her family members was able to visit her for the 3 nights that she was in hospital. I left Portland the day after Hipilicious was discharged from hospital. Sometime between when I left Portland and got to Nairobi, Mrs. Adrian’s health had taken a turn towards the not so good side and Hipilicious had to take her to hospital. The irony. Mrs. Adrian had a fever and suspected infection and was provided with medicines and discharged.
The plan had been that the family would pick me up from the airport then we would all head to my place or Hipilicious’ place, spend the night and wake up to go to Mombasa early the next morning. By the time I got to Amsterdam, I knew that there was no way that the plan to pick me up was going to happen. Skinny was still in Homa Bay and was going to arrive at about mid night, it was major torture for Hipilicious to drive so I welcomed myself back to Nairobi, got a cab and went home. And found Hipilicious at my place. She showed me her scar, we updated each other on recent events and I told her how my legs had been paining and I hadn’t been able to walk much.
So I unpacked, packed a smaller suitcase for Mombasa then got ready to go pick up Mrs. Adrian and Skinny (who had just gotten home!).We got to Mrs. Adrian’s place just after 1am and it was a struggle getting to finish her packing – we tried to get her to eat some of her dinner but she didn’t want to hear that story. So she got into my car and we went to my place. Hipilicious took Skinny and they went to her place. At the parking lot, I saw how Mrs. Adrian was staggering and I asked her whether she needed help with carrying her handbag. She had the lowest possible energy a functioning human being could ever have. I even told her, “Don’t think I am going to bathe you tomorrow morning so gather your energy in 4 hours!”. So we got to my place and she went straight to bed.
We woke up by 6am and decided that we would have breakfast at the airport since there was no time to cook. It only takes 10 minutes from my place to the airport so we got there by 7.15am. However, it seems that everyone in Nairobi was going to Mombasa for the long weekend so the queues were crazy. Mrs. Adrian was lucky that she got a seat outside where the queue had formed (God bless that watchman) and she watched us queue. My legs were killing me and it took all the strength I had to just stand. I decided to google my symptoms and I didn’t like what I saw.
So I texted IMO and asked her to ask her hubby whether the Aga Khan Hospital in Mombasa would be able to perform tests to check for Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) or blood clots. He said yes it was possible but why was I flying if I suspected DVT? And could I please go to the hospital immediately! So I put on my flight socks and off we were! When we got to Mombasa I asked the family whether I could pass by the hospital before going to shags for the night. The vote was unanimous. NO. IMO and hubby couldn’t believe it. What!? I may have DVT and I am going to shags instead of going to hospital?! What is wrong with me. Well, maybe if I had my own transport…..since we are sharing……
We got to shags like an hour later and the change in Mrs. Adrian was immediate. As soon as she saw the Dzarigutas, especially her brother and sister, her sickness kind of just melted away. Her demeanor changed, she got a super smile on her face and everyone who spoke with her had no idea that we had to drag her out of bed while shivering and staggering just a few hours earlier! That was the good news. The bad news was that I now was in pain with every step I took – I could move but every step I took was super painful, especially on the lower sides of my feet. Even the party that Uncle Ismael (the best chef in Dzariguta land, you better ask somebody!) set up on Mrs. Adrian’s behalf didn’t take away the pain that I felt. And to add to that, I had jet lag.
We spent the night at Jumwa‘s place and her mum set up a spread like never seen before. It was such great food. She is a nurse and when I told her what I was feeling, she gave me some asprin and asked me to put my feet up. And I went to sleep a very happy girl. I couldn’t wait to go to our hotel the next day – we were going to Diani and Hipilicious had never been!
Then when I woke up, I couldn’t walk for real. I also had a swollen vein/artery thingie (running from the bottom of my foot and into my calf) that was throbbing like crazy. And part of my foot had turned hot and black.