Gone too soon: Disease that shouldn't kill in 21st century

If she were a flower, she would be a chrysanthemum. A flaming orange one in full bloom.

Sunshine should have been her name. It was to me anyway, from the day she introduced herself to me in a cyber café. Those were the days we hung out in cyber cafés, catching up with friends over coffee or through emails on the humming desktops. We were home for a short break from medical school and it was time to catch up on what we had missed after months away.

My friend and I walked into Burger Dome in town and made our way to the back where the cyber café was. I had a bunch of emails to send before going back home. One was billed for the time spent on the computer and fast typing was definitely an advantage.

While I was pecking away at the keyboard, I felt a light tap on my shoulder I looked up to find the most delicate little girl standing next to me with a glorious smile. She said hello and proceeded to introduce herself. I was caught up in the moment. I introduced myself and gave her a hug and that was the beginning of our friendship.

She asked me if I knew someone named Lacie* and I nodded since I knew only one person by that name. She informed me that Lacie was seated at the restaurant and I promised to pass by and say hello once I was done. My friend asked me who Sunshine was and I could not explain. It did not feel right to say I did not know her.

COUGH AND FATIGUE

Once done with emails, we moved on to the business of the evening, which was to grab a cup of coffee and catch up. Sure enough as I was walking through the tables with my tray, I spotted Lacie seated with her friends in a corner and Sunshine was right next to her playing a game of Snake on the phone. We sat at the next table, said hello and after a round of introductions, we were all animatedly conversing. Lacie and I were in campus together, and we lived in the same estate.

Sunshine and I spent the afternoon together talking endlessly. We made our way to the bus stop and joined the queues. It was getting late and Sunshine was tired. She would cough occasionally and squat, citing fatigue. Lacie was very patient and wanted to call their dad to pick them up. Sunshine refused the offer. She said it was the girls’ day out and they would get home without dad. Despite the long walk from the bus stop to the house, Lacie carried Sunshine on her back. I was struck by the bond the two shared. We promised to visit and catch up. A new friendship had been born.

Sunshine was a typical nine-year-old who loved ice cream and had plenty of stories to tell. She had an angelic smile and a head full of soft downy hair that was the family trademark. With time, I learnt that Sunshine had never met her mother. Tragically, she had died when she was born and with a huge age gap between her and her siblings, it made sense why Lacie treated her more like a daughter than a sister.

School resumed and life went back to the gruelling schedules of a medical student. I occasionally asked after Sunshine when I bumped into Lacie at school. In the course of the year, our lecturers went on strike and we were sent home for almost four months.

Though were home, I did not see Sunshine much as I was holed up with my books. We were sent back to school right before Christmas and we walked in to the end of rotation exams. We had the Christmas to New Year week off before reporting back to do our final exam for the six-year course.

LATE INTERVENTION

It was right about this time that I ran into Lacie and asked about my favourite person. Lacie gave me a blank look and hit me straight with the worst possible news, Sunshine was no more. My brain was blank. It was akin to saying there shall be no dawn tomorrow morning.

My delicate chrysanthemum had succumbed to tuberculosis. Who dies of TB in the 21st century when they have access to medical care? In the medical arena, Sunshine was regarded as a child of privilege from birth. Though she may have lost her mum, her father dedicated his life to raising her to never feel the gap occasioned by the loss.

She had a paediatrician who walked with her throughout her infancy to childhood. This is the doctor who knew her entire medical history. It would then be expected that when Sunshine started feeling sickly, this doctor would know things were not great and would intervene in a timely manner.
Sunshine was treated for every imaginable chest condition when she developed a chronic cough. She was given all manner of antibiotics and other drugs to relieve the cough without response. She lost her appetite and with that came the weight loss. It took several weeks for the family to step out of their comfort zone and seek a second opinion.

The TB diagnosis was handed to Sunshine like a hot coal. For many years, TB was regarded as a disease of the underprivileged who lived in crowded, unsanitary conditions; or those who had HIV. For this reason, patients who were regarded as coming from privileged backgrounds were never considered to have TB, hence the life-threatening delay.

The disease had a major head-start on Sunshine with all the weeks lost to wrongful diagnosis. She was commenced on treatment, but her body was far too weak to join forces with the medication to fight the enemy. It has been a decade and a half since our light was dimmed, but the memory has spurred each of us to do better.
 

Dr Bosire is an obstetrician/gynaecologist