Pain of kidney patients who can’t make use of fully-equipped renal unit

A year ago, five dialysis machines were delivered to a refurbished renal ward at the Wajir County Referral Hospital.

 However, that has not stopped patients with kidney ailments from making long and expensive trips to either Garissa or Nairobi, in search of treatment.

Others have succumbed after spending hundreds of thousands of shillings as far as India. Those who can’t afford to take the trips in search of treatment wait in desperation for the day they can get services closer home.

One such patient is 78-year-old Mzee Abdi, whom we find seated on a mattress in the middle of his grass-thatched hut one afternoon. His sister Saadia is at his beck and call, while their father, a nonagenarian, watches helplessly from another hut. Occasionally, he shuffles to where his son is, to check on him. They live less than a kilometre away from the Wajir County Referral Hospital.

“I was in Garissa the other day and doctors said I need to start dialysis, but I can’t afford it,” says Mzee Abdi. At Garissa County Referral Hospital, he met at least 12 other patients who had come from neighbouring counties to access dialysis.

Having no relatives in Garissa, Mzee Abdi’s family has to cater for accommodation, in addition to the Sh6,000 to Sh10,000 for each session.

Yet, Wajir County has a kidney unit, having signed a contract with the national government that saw counties receive key medical equipment, such as dialysis machines.

“We received the machines under the Managed Equipment Services (MES) partnership, but we haven’t been able to use the facility due to lack of key personnel,” says Duhir Somow, who was the medical superintendent at the Wajir County Referral Hospital when the dialysis machines were brought in. He now serves as the County Director of Health.

Without  staff, the beds in the renal ward remain empty and the machines unused, and not for lack of patients.

“We have five nurses in Nairobi taking a one-year course that will make them renal nurses. One is almost done with the course, so we hope that the unit will be up and running in six months,” says Dr Somow. “But we’ll still need a physician,” he adds.

In Wajir East where medical appeals and fundraisers have become a new norm, the local chief Hussein Said has taken it upon himself to accompany kidney, cancer, diabetes and hypertensive patients to hospitals in various parts of the country, in search of treatment. Residents knock on his door seeking help, for things like swollen feet, breathing problems and mobility problems, signs of lifestyle diseases simmering beneath the surface.

LIFESTYLE DISEASES STRANGE

“I travel with them, help them get settled and then I bring them back home,” he says.

In a community where lifestyle diseases are a strange, but emerging phenomenon, many patients get to the local hospital rather late, and then learn that despite having equipment, the hospital cannot be of help to them due to lack of specialist staff.

For Mzee Abdirizak, the six months wait for the renal ward to begin operating will come a little too late. His mother, 75-year-old Habiba, succumbed to chronic renal disease in January, having battled kidney failure for six years.

“I did everything to restore my mother back to health. Eventually, she slipped into a coma for 11 days and local doctors referred her to Nairobi for specialised treatment. She was airlifted to the city, and after a myriad tests, doctors diagnosed her with kidney disease.

“We were happy to finally have a diagnosis, but she needed to start dialysis immediately. We needed accommodation near the hospital  for the twice-a-week,” he says of an experience that drained him financially and psychologically.

DESPAIR AT EVERY TURN

For four years he paid rent and Sh36,200 for dialysis every week, then he decided to get his mother a transplant in India. A private lab in Nairobi showed that he was a match and could donate his kidney and an excited Abdirizak started planning for the journey to Hyderbad with his mother and sister. A journey that would solve his problems once and for all.

In India, hope turned into despair at every turn. Doctors ordered fresh tests, and they showed that he was not a match and could not donate his kidney.

“I couldn’t believe it. I asked them to repeat the tests, but the results didn’t change. I asked them to test my sister, but she also wasn’t a match,” he says, tears streaming down his face.

With all hope gone, the family travelled back home, and Abdirizak demanded answers from the laboratory that gave them the false lifeline that saw them travel all the way to India for naught.

A second test at the lab confirmed what the Indian doctors had said. Neither of the children were a match, and Habiba had to continue with dialysis.

Luckily, NHIF started paying for dialysis, lightening the load for Abdirizak, who was now left with travel and accommodation expenses. Then three months ago, his mother succumbed to the ailment.

Abdirizak hopes that the renal unit will be operational soon, so that other residents don’t face the challenges he faced while seeking treatment for his mother.