A doctor''s ignorance ended my life

SUNDAY VISION

Last year, Barbara Nanjuba, a former nurse at Kawolo Hospital in Buikwe district, was admitted at Nsambya Hospital for a gallstone. However, by the time the surgery was done, she was worse than ever. Doctors now fear for her life. She spoke to Elizabeth Namazzi.

September 2012, I was at work when I felt a sudden pain in my upper abdomen. I thought it was ulcers so I swallowed antacids and waited for the pain to subside, but it only got worse.

Three days later, I decided to go to Nsambya hospital for checkup. At that time, I was a nurse at Kawolo Hospital.

I tested positive for ulcers so I was put on triple therapy. I felt a slight improvement, but after a day, the pain seemed to only increase, so I returned to Nsambya Hospital.

Worse news

Scan results showed that I had a gallstone that needed immediate operation. I was not even allowed to return home because, the doctor said, the gallstone was going to rupture if I was not immediately operated on. By then, I was in so much pain that I could hardly walk. The doctor reassured me that it was a simple procedure.

One surgeon, a nun called Dr. Nassali, reviewed me and said I would be monitored for two days after the operation. I did my nursing training from Nsambya Hospital, so when I saw her, I was encouraged because I know her as a good surgeon. I thought she was going to operate on me.

At around 1:00pm, I was taken to the theatre, where I expected to see Dr. Nassali, but she was not my surgeon. I learnt that it was one Dr. Kizito going to perform the operation. When I inquired, I was informed that Dr. Nassali was not available and was reassured that Dr. Kizito is a good surgeon.

Doubts set in

When Dr. Kizito arrived, he asked what procedure he was going to perform and this worried me. I could not believe that a doctor could walk into a theatre without knowing the kind of procedure he was going to perform. The assisting doctor explained it to him, but this did not allay my fears. I got even more worried when he probed me about it and appeared unsure.

At that point, I tried to say that we cancel the operation, but the anaesthetist had already started anaesthetising me. I failed to talk because I was already losing consciousness.

When I woke up, I had a colostomy bag and a drainage tube. Under normal circumstances, the tube should drain in three to four days, but for about a month, mine kept draining. As a nurse, by the fourth day, I was worried, so I returned to Nsambya for review. I was told that the draining sometimes takes longer.

But as the days went by, with the tube still draining, I began to suspect that something had gone wrong.

Where is Dr. Kizito?

Surprisingly, I never ever found Dr. Kizito at Nsambya Hospital. A surgeon is supposed to review his/her patient after an operation to record progress and generally answer any questions the patient may have, but Dr. Kizito never got back to me. I tried to look for him and failed. Instead, I would see Dr. Nassali and she would reassure me that I would be fine.

The draining bag blocked after two months and Dr. Nassali recommended that we remove it. By then, I had started losing weight and losing my natural complexion. I became darker, my eyes started turning yellow and I could hardly eat because of nausea.

I eventually learnt that Dr. Kizito works at one of the famous private clinics in Kampala. I went to see him at the clinic, but he was bothered by my complaints. Instead, he arrogantly asked me which doctors I was seeing and assured me that some people take five months to heal. I decided to seek a second opinion at Mulago Hospital.

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Nanjuba with her daughter before the operation. She fears that her life has come to an end and that her daughter may have to grow up without a mother. Now she needs sh100m for an operation that will be done in India. PHOTOs/Elizabeth Namazzi

Shattered hopes

At Mulago Hospital, a series of tests were done. It was discovered that the operation was wrongly done. As a result, bile was pouring throughout my body and, because it is very acidic, was causing all the side effects I had. Every doctor I saw kept asking one question: “Who did this (operation)?”

This is because gallstone operations are very simple. Sadly, the specialists who could do corrective surgery had just retired. I was advised to contact them or find sh70m for an operation in India. We did not have the sh70m so we decided to consult one of the specialists.

His first step was to order for fresh investigations, which showed that he could perform the surgery. He mobilised a team of other doctors who discovered that two ducts (tubes) were cut during the first operation and “got lost” in the liver. These ducts, the doctors explained, had to be joined so that they could drain the bile and prevent it from spilling.

The doctors discovered that they could not join the ducts because they were too short. They could not even get them out of the liver without advanced technology and the help of liver experts. They also found that the draining tube had created pus and patches in my stomach because they had stayed for too long.

My stomach has grown so big I look like a pregnant woman.

Meanwhile, the patches put me at a risk for cancer so they had to be repaired. The pus was also drained. Because they could not remove the ducts from the liver, they created a small by-pass where bile could temporarily collect until corrective surgery was done.

By then, my entire body was itching terribly. The doctors explained that the acidic bile burns wherever it spills, causing the itching and darkening of the skin, yellow and itching eyes.

I do not sleep because I spend every second scratching myself and this has left wounds all over my body. When the itching is too much, my family members bring combs and help me scratch where I cannot reach. My fingers and feet are also paralysed most of the time.

A ray of hope

Recently, I met a team of doctors from India, who said there is still hope for corrective surgery, but in India. However, it has to be done immediately to avoid more damage to vital body organs. The bile has already damaged part of my liver so the damaged part has to be removed. For now, I have to be on drip for two straight days per week to reduce the effects of the bile.

Sh100m for surgery

Corrective surgery along with travel and maintenance will cost us about sh100m for one-and-a-half months. I almost cried when I heard this because I just do not know where that money will come from.

I am an orphan, so my extended family has been helping me all this while. One of my aunties is a Rotarian in the Rotary Club of Masaka so she raised some money from her club as the rest of the family fundraised from other sources.

My bosses and colleagues at Kawolo Hospital have also been very supportive. Sadly, we have run short of money and I just do not know where to turn for help.

A mother’s cry

I worry about the third operation because I do not know whether or not it will go well. I worry that I might never have the operation anyway, especially if I fail to raise the required money in record time. The thought of dying at 30 scares me and I cannot help crying when I think about my child. I had so many dreams and so much hope. I feel like my youth has been totally wasted.

What worries me most is the fact that I cannot raise my two-year-old daughter. Her father had to take her away when I fell sick and I miss her terribly. My heart bleeds whenever I think of her. I pray that God will give me another chance to raise her because she is too young to lose her mother.

She has visited me a few times and I feel very bad when she is leaving. She also cries when she has to go, but she cannot stay with me.

I really feel betrayed

I went back to Nsambya Hospital to meet the hospital’s management with the hope of getting financial help. However, they insisted that they had not done anything wrong, so they could not help us.

One of the doctors even said the specialists could have messed up everything and blamed it on them. Dr. Kizito also denied any wrong doing.

I feel I have been let down by my own professional colleagues. As a nurse, I dedicated my days and nights to helping patients. I used to work night shifts and missed many Christmas days with my family because of my profession.

Now I need help and the people responsible for my pain are not willing to admit that they made a mistake. God is my only hope now.

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