LIGHTNING STRIKES...

"They have diagnosed me with cancer."

It started with that simple text. A text. Individual words on a screen that didn't draw much of a reaction from me. But as a sentence...as a statement...as a reality it got me quiet. Scared. Shaken. Then I saw the missed calls. Six or seven with the red font staring back at me with a whole lot of judgement. Why didn't you pick up the phone? Where were you? What could have been that important? I sank back to my bed. I had fallen asleep early. Phone on silent. I just wanted some time from the world. But the world was having none of it. And then I scrolled down. Dialing mum......

"Hello?" she answered rather hesitantly.

"I am coming home."The only words that made sense then.

"Ok." She said and the line went quiet.

My hands ran through my hair. Truth is my experiences with cancer were limited. It mostly consisted of movies and tv show where some woman fights the disease while her family rallies behind her. Those heart warming stories of courage and perseverance. Unfortunately for me my only hands-on experience had been just a few months before. My friend's brother had succumbed and I had been there for his funeral. Barely in his twenties...and I had watched her struggle with his condition and his ultimate demise. Read that here.And then a new, alien feeling. Panic.

It's a weird feeling when you get to the age where your parents are no longer superhuman. When you can see their faults and flaws and you begrudgingly accept that they are human. Then you start seeing the frailty. The delicateness. The humanity. And that scared me. Terrified me.

Two weeks later we were driving from the hospital and there had been a huge thunderstorm. We were stuck in traffic and lightning just lit up the inky darkness. Night became day. And I watched my mum flinch with fear. And then i thought back to my childhood. I thought back to when I had been running scared about the lightning and thunder, she was the one who had comforted and consoled me. Told me everything would be ok. Had she been scared as well? And it dawns on you. She is superhuman!

Crazy runs in the family!

Family meeting and for some weird reason there is nothing but laughter. Mum has turned breast cancer into a little joke. She will take anything that bugs her and make some odd reference to it. For example the food will take too long in the kitchen and her voice rings out: "You guys are starving me and I have cancer?" You can tell she thinks it's inappropriate but the jokes are funny. And the discussion runs lengthy as we talk about everything from my late dad's weird names for all of us (My sister's was 'Pajero' by the way) to  my brother's possible names for his first kid.

The day after her mastectomy, her family and friends stands around her bed. She has that smile on her face again. Showing off how many more visitors she has than the other people in the ward. She says she doesn't want pity. Those who came with pity might as well take it back home. You'd think nothing gets to her but I assume under all that is some level of fear.

Later we find out that insurance won't cover the cost of everything. There's the drugs, surgery and then months of chemotherapy. Mum chimes in that it won't even cover the cost of the wigs when she starts losing her hair.

If you feel emotionally blackmailed then my work here is complete. I want your money. All of it. For real. I am not kidding. There's a whole lot to raise and not much time. So if you feel sufficiently philanthropic (ewwww) then you can reach me through 0728831340 or bkoyoo@gmail.com. Take a moment and think about it.I am not trying to cure Cancer. This is as selfish as requests get. Thanks.

A KENYAN CANCER STORY

Who does this apply to?

I wasn't near a television last night so I missed the news. This morning I woke up to the Kenyan twitterverse bursting with news about Beth Mugo's visit to the United States for cancer treatment. On the bus ride to work I threw in my little barbs on the topic. The irony that the two ministers mandated to cater to the health a whole country had both been struck by cancerous misfortunes. To this point you may sympathize with the individuals. But the moment where that sympathy evaporates like dew in the morning sun is the point where both ministers had to seek treatment beyond our borders.

I'm tempted to throw a fit of righteous anger but then the story changes when I get to the office. On the phone is my colleague and friend. It's just another day in what has been an emotionally and financially draining journey. Her brother was diagnosed with cancer a while ago. I would not claim to understand all the details but he had a form of bone cancer which kept him up at night in pain. My colleague, lets call her G, would show up at work completely worn out from nights spent up to massage her brother's legs so he could catch a few moments of sleep.

In his early 20's, her brother was spending more and more of his time within hospital corridors. Instead of chasing after skirts and enjoying the freedom that comes with university, he was stuck in consultation rooms and going through chemotherapy. His life was being stolen. Then a couple of months ago, some good news came through. He was declared cancer free.G practically waltzed into the office. She was beaming. And what followed were days with her basically floating on air and facebook updates thanking God for the good fortune.