I was told I had the flu

I moved to Johannesburg in search of a job. After two months of searching for jobs, I wasn’t feeling well.

My chest hurt, I coughed a lot, and I lost my appetite. I went to the clinic and got a sputum test but was told I had the flu. I was given medicine and sent home, but I came back after a week because I wasn’t getting better. Antibiotics were given to me because the nurse thought I had bronchitis.

Things got worse for me, so I chose to move back to my hometown in rural Limpopo. Because my symptoms were worse than ever, I got extremely depressed. I lost 20 kgs and could barely breathe. My aunt called a community health worker who went with me to a bigger district hospital about 60 km from where I lived. I got x-rays here. A chest x-ray showed a small thing that wasn’t right in my right lung. I was again told I had pneumonia, spent two days in the hospital, and then was sent home.
But after a month, I was even sicker and went back to the district hospital. A second chest x-ray showed that the small spot in my right lung was more visible and looked more like a lung mass. I was sent for more tests because the “pneumonia” no longer looked like pneumonia. In the winter of 2015, I was told I had lung TB and then multidrug-resistant TB (MDR TB).

Not only is TB hard for the person who has it, but it’s also hard for their family and the people in their community. I thought my family had it worse than I did at times when I had TB. I lost my short-term memory, and it was hard for my parents to see me get weak and unpredictable. Even though I knew what shame meant, this is when I learned how it feels. TB had a “dirty” feel to it. Some people said that I drank and smoked and even that I had promiscuous sex.

Beaulah, the healthcare worker, explained to the community that TB is airborne and not sexually transmitted. You also can’t get it from smoking and drinking. I faced stigma for the first time in my life. At first, I had to take 28 pills every day. I spent two weeks in the district hospital and then was moved to the neighbourhood clinic to make sure that I took my treatment correctly.

I am alive today because of the local healthcare worker, Beaulah, who made sure that I was diagnosed correctly. Because of my late diagnosis, I became severely ill. I’m sure I would have died if my diagnosis came a week later. I keep this photo as a reminder of my long journey with TB. I am healthy today because I persisted with my treatment, and I know that I can spread the news of how important early diagnosis of TB is.”