My battle with cancer (2)

I HAD heard of the term chemotherapy before but I never knew what it entailed. Now I had come to experience it. After he had examined me, Dr. Phillips prescribed what was to be my first course of chemotherapy. The nurse, Mrs. Fran Buck, took over from there. I was given a bed while the various combinations of drugs were being put together. An intravenous needle was inserted into my vein and connected to a tube and strapped tightly to the inside of my left arm. The drug combinations were administered through this channel into my body. It took about three hours to complete the treatment. I was to go through this routine each time I was due for the application. The number of blended drugs was simply unbelievable. It was like all the drugs in a pharmaceutical store were assembled for my use. After the application, I was allowed to sleep for an hour before my friend, Mr. Emechetta took me back to the flat. I slept for the rest of the day but kept drinking water for rehydration. I survived the night and, on Monday, December 29, I returned to see Dr. Costello. The next day, I was at Mr. Nott’s clinic. On January 5, 1998, the result of the biopsy was ready and I was back to the hospital. The result read side by side with the result of the Ct-scan and authoritatively revealed that I had “non-hodgkin’s Lymphoma, with large B cell, rich in T-lymphocytes and histiocytes and an enlarged spleen. In addition to the left cervical lymphadenopathy, the spleen was palpable four finger breadths below the costal margin and the CT scan confirmed multiple hypo-dense areas within it.” I asked Dr. Costello what it all meant and she said that my red blood cells were being eaten up by the white blood cells, depriving me of oxygen, which would be fatal at some point, if allowed to continue. My red blood cells had to be restored and protected, which was the essence of the treatment. My initial treatment was for Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Now it was proven that my condition was the more virulent nonhodgkin’s lymphoma. My course of treatment had to change. I was then scheduled for another chemotherapy session on January 9, 1998 at The Lister Hospital. The battle to save my life truly began on this day.

The second session of chemotherapy followed the pattern of the first. But changes were made as the drugs had to reflect the new diagnosis. This time, Dr. Phillips applied a combination of “Cyclophosphamide, Doxorubicin, Vincristine and Prednisolone.” After the session, I was much weaker than the first time. Fortunately, my wife had joined me in London. The chemotherapy session was scheduled for every three weeks. I rested after the session, then had a meeting with the oncologist. Dr. Phillips reviewed my case file and, because of the estimated huge cost of the treatment, he made a suggestion. He said he could give me enough drugs for two sessions of chemotherapy which can be applied by a Nigerian oncologist, after which I would return to London for the next session. He said he would thereafter repeat the routine for another two sessions in Nigeria, to be followed by sessions of radiotherapy and possible surgery to remove my spleen in London. I was initially frightened because I thought that he wanted me to return to Nigeria ‘‘to die.’’ My wife and I discussed the proposal at length. I called Chairman Banigo to inform him. We agreed that the suggestion was fine. When I called Dr. Senbanjo to update him on the development, he immediately identified Professor Olu. O. Akinyanju, the retired professor of medicine at the University of Lagos Teaching Hospital, to handle my case in Nigeria. He was then the medical director of Asaju Medical Clinic in Victoria Island, Lagos. Dr. Senbanjo was very confident that Professor Akinyanju would be the expert to manage my chemotherapy sessions in Nigeria. Dr. Seyi Roberts had also mentioned the name of Prof Akinyanju as a dependable oncologist when Osaro and I visited his clinic before my intitial departure to London. I was encouraged to return to Nigeria. Dr. Phillips then prepared a package of drugs for me to take to Nigeria. The drugs had to be stored in a refrigerator to preserve their potency. I had drugs to take daily, in addition to those for the chemotherapy sessions. Each day, I swallowed as many as 12 tablets. I was ready to take more if required. The drugs were very powerful. Quite often, I heard explosions inside me as if something was being destroyed in my body. I reasoned that the red blood cells were fighting the invading white blood cells within me. It was a war of survival.

It was celebrations galore when I got to Lagos to be greeted by flowers, prayers, and banners proclaiming ‘‘welcome home daddy.’’ I was very happy to see my children once again because, when I was leaving for London, I had doubts about the possibility of ever setting my eyes on them again. Now, I could hold them. I held tight to Ofumere and Osobase, my two youngest children at the time. I was full of thanks to my elder sister and to my younger sister, Patience Omokhodion, and Blessing Osborne, my sister in-law, for keeping the home safe and strong. Then, the question of adequate supply of electricity in the house became a challenge. I had a power generator which only came on at 7.00 pm and ran till 8.00 am. When the public electricity supply failed during the day, it meant that the drugs would be unrefrigerated. Without hesitation, I took the drugs to my friend’s house to keep in his refrigerator because he had electricity 24 hours a day. He gladly accepted the drugs and kept them in his refrigerator as I would do for any friend of mine if I had the capacity.

To get ready for the office the next day, I went to a barber shop to cut my hair. I had been warned about the effect of chemotherapy on the hair but I did not think it was a serious issue. In the barbing saloon, as soon as the barber ran the clipper through my hair, all the strands fell off without any resistance. Then I used my hand to pull off what was left of the hair. The barber was surprised, I hinted him of my medication, paid him and left. The chemotherapy sessions had claimed my hair. I met Professor Akinyanju to discuss the treatment programme he would administer. By the end of

January 1998, the first chemotherapy session in Nigeria was due. My drugs were intact and I gave them to the Professor. He knew what to do and, in about three hours, the chemotherapy session was successfully administered. I was lucky to have an expert whose clinic was a street next to my home and office. I went home after the session and slept for the rest of the day. I was getting tired. By the third week of February, another chemotherapy session was due. Even though I had the drugs, there was a development. Two weeks before the next chemotherapy session, the need to keep the drugs either with the doctor or in my custody arose. I decided to take my fate in my hands. But I feared that if I gave the drugs to the doctor for safe keeping in the clinic, they could be mixedup. My wife and I prayed and decided to use our own refrigerator at home. I then found out that the all-night electricity supply was just good enough to keep the drugs refrigerated for the rest of the day. The drugs were very adequate for use at the second chemotherapy session in Nigeria. By the second week of March, I was ready to return to London for another session of chemotherapy. However, I was feeling rather unwell at this time. I was feverish and had nausea. I thought another session of chemotherapy would restore my health. I continued my medication.

I was worried about returning to London at this time. Mr. Emechetta was in Lagos. My wife was back to work and I needed to spend one week in London. Who would be with me? I settled on taking one of my children with me. My Son, Eromosele, was just 10 years of age and in Primary 6 at the Corona Primary School, Ikoyi. Despite his tender age, we could discuss and communicate very well. I knew he would keep me engaged with all manner of questions and being a highly responsible son, he would help me clean the flat we would stay in London. I visited the headmistress of his school, Mrs. Jean Abili, to seek her permission for Eromosele to be out of school for one week. She was very understanding and granted my request. Allstates Trust Bank got my flight ticket while Chairman Banigo approved my hospital and living expenses for one week. Eromosele and I then travelled to London. In the morning of the chemotherapy session, I arranged Eromosele’s food and the television programmes to watch. I gave him strict instructions about the doors and the phone. By 7.00 am, I was on my way to The Lister Hospital. The examination before the chemotherapy session worried Dr. Phillips and made him to consider a transfusion of the growth factor ‘Granocyte’ to help improve the white cell count so that I could proceed with the next session. He later changed his mind, saying I was not too bad for the session. He then applied the chemotherapy session which lasted from 10.00 am to 1.00 pm. At 5.00 pm, I was back to the rented flat to meet Eromosele doing very well. I slept for nearly two days after the treatment. Dr. Robert also gave me the drugs for the next six weeks in Lagos – the daily doses and the two chemotherapy sessions. When I returned to Lagos, I was still feeling unwell and went to consult with Professor Akinyanju. The next chemotherapy session was about three weeks away and I feared for the worse if I took that excruciating session in my present condition. Professor Akinyanju kept an eye on me, took blood samples for analysis and I visited the clinic daily. I was not getting better. I managed to go through the chemotherapy session in early April 1998 but I was totally broken. I had to be carried into the car to go home after the session. I had no strength. I had no energy. I always drank lots and lots of water and juices. But my energy had disappeared. At home, I slept as never before. I started thinking that my end was near. I had begun to lose hope. Professor Akinyanju suggested that I should be admitted into St. Nicholas Hospital, Lagos. About this time, my friend, Professor Dominic Osaghae, flew in from Benin City to visit me. He was concerned about my health and asked if things were getting better. I told him that I got better initially but had deteriorated remarkably in the past six weeks. I actually confessed to Professor Osaghae that I probably would not make it. I again visited Professor Akinyanju to know what could be done. He had a quick review and decided to test me for malaria parasites. He did and, lo and behold, my entire system had been invaded by malaria. I was dying of malaria, not Lymphoma. Professor Akinyanju immediately put me on a comprehensive malaria treatment programme. I became well, strong, agile, and totally revived after one week of treatment with anti-malaria drugs. From that day in April 1998, I have been on a daily dose of 200 mg of paludrine and would be on this prescription all my remaining days on earth. I took one more session of chemotherapy in Lagos on May 6, 1998. I was very tired at this time and actually struggled, once again, to get home after this session. It had to be delayed for one week to enable me overcome my malaria attack. I had another appointment in London on May 18, 1998. With the session on May 6, I had gone through six courses of combination chemotherapy. Two days after each chemotherapy session, I had my blood count checked to know if the treatment was going well.

The next phase of my treat

ment was a splenectomy or alternatively, the application of fractions of radiotherapy to the spleen over five weeks. Splenectomy, the surgery to remove my spleen, would keep me in the hospital bed for four to five days. Once my spleen was removed, I would have to be on a special medication for the rest of my life. Opting for the radiotherapy would mean an additional cost of hotel accommodation and feeding expenses for a minimum of five weeks. We left the decision in the hands of Dr. Phillips because, as the professional in charge of my case, he knew best. Chairman Banigo approved my medical trip to London for the expected period of three months. Funds were again released to me for my flight and expenses. As I prepared to travel, my younger brother, Bright Omokhodion, suddenly arrived on the scene, explaining the financial crisis in which he found himself. He had lost his job at DEVCOM Merchant Bank and teamed up with his erstwhile boss to set up a commodity business for the export of cocoa beans. The new company did not last and he was now engaged in cross-border commodity trade. He explained that his shipment was held up at the Nigerian border town of Seme near Badagry and he had only 24 hours to salvage the situation. He had no money and needed my help. Worse still, his ability to feed himself and family, pay his house rent and his children’s school fees was hanging in the air. My medical trip would take an estimated three months, during which my extended family would be terribly exposed. I had to hand over to Bright much of the funds that Allstates Trust Bank had given me for my trip. Now, I did not have enough money for my medical trip to London. I had to change my travel date from May 17 to May 28, 1998, to await payment of my monthly salary which I would use to replenish the resources I had given to Bright. When I got paid on May 25, I bought my flight ticket and departed for London on May 27. I called The Lister Hospital on May 28, requesting to see Dr. Phillips. But the secretary told me Dr. Phillips had travelled to Dubai the previous weekend on his summer vacation and would be away for two weeks. I had missed my medical appointment and was stranded in London. I waited for his return. As luck would have it, the World Cup in France started soon after in early June 1998. I stayed busy watching the matches. After the World Cup, the annual Wimbledon Tennis Tournament kicked-off. I enjoyed these sporting activities in spite of my ill-health. When Dr. Phillips returned, I was glad to hear that the delayed arrival for my medical appointment did not complicate my state of health. Unfortunately, it cost me a lot of money.

Dr. Phillips was divided between asking for a splenectomy or a radiotherapy. He directed me to visit Dr. Peter Chiodini, consultant parasitologist at ‘The Hospital for Tropical Diseases’ in the London University College Hospital system. Dr. Chiodini did five different blood checks on me on June 4, 1998 and noted in his report as follows: “Blood film for malaria parasites on June 4 showed Plasmodium falciparum 0.01% parasitaemia. Malaria antibody ELISA positive. Stool microscopy negative. Amoebic serology negative. Strongyloides serology negative.” Dr. Chiodini gave me three tablets of Fansidar on June 4 and the blood film became negative when he checked my blood during my visit on June 8. After his extensive examination on me, Dr. Chiodini’s report to Dr. Phillips concluded thus: “Regarding the choice between splenectomy and splenic radiotherapy, I have a strong preference for his retaining his spleen, if at all possible, in view of the risk of serious attacks of malaria if he is splenectomised and returns to Nigeria and also because splenectomy would render him more susceptible to a number of bacterial infections which are prevalent in Nigeria.” At my next appointment with Dr. Phillips on June 15, 1998, he confirmed that as from June 18, I would commence my radiotherapy sessions at the Cromwell Hospital, London. The diligent consultations between the experts ended up saving my spleen. Just before my radiotherapy sessions started, Chairman Banigo visited me in my London hotel. I was elated that he found time to pay me a visit. While in London, I received reports of the deaths, in mysterious circumstances, of General Sani Abacha, the no-nonsense Nigerian Head of State, and the politician, Chief M.K.O Abiola, the presumed winner of the June 12, 1993 presidential election. It was clearly the end of an era in Nigeria. May their souls rest in peace. Amen.

As from June 19 to July 13, 1998, I took a course of splenic irradiation to 3,600 cgys in 18 fractions. My spleen was completely de-activated at the end of the treatment. The radiotherapy sessions were done with an equipment called a Linear Accelerator. At each application, I was wrapped in a special room and exposed the part that needed to receive the gamma rays. The nurses spoke to me via a microphone and made signs to me through a glass window. As the outer skin covering of my spleen was blackening, Dr. Phillips recommended E45, a dermatological cream with cleansing properties, made for dry skin. It worked well to clean off the dark spots. I took the 18 fractions of radiotherapy in 18 days. The timetable for application was planned to allow time for my cells to heal before another set of applications. The weekends within the 18 days were days of rest for me. While undergoing the radiotherapy sessions, I drank about a mediumsized bucket of water a day for my rehydration. It was an experience! On July 15, 1998, I had a consultation with Dr. Phillips and, after another round of blood check, he pronounced me ready to return in good health to Nigeria. He said the Large B-cell had returned to normal, the Lymphoma was in remission and my spleen could no longer constitute a hazard to me. I had to continue on the palludrine prescription because my spleen was no longer able to fight the malaria parasite. He advised that I should do a blood check every six months, and Professor Akinyanju should continue to keep an eye on me in Lagos. He said he would be glad to see me whenever I was in London. He added that in treating cancer, a period of five years should elapse after the last session of chemotherapy and the patient could be declared cured if there was no relapse. Therefore, I would be under observation until 2003. I was glad to return to Lagos on July 19, 1998 to join my jubilant family. On July 25, it was my 46th birthday. The world came to the house to rejoice with me.

I have kept faith with my sixmonthly blood tests. On March 16, 2000, I visited Dr. Phillips at the Charing Cross Hospital, London, for a routine check and blood test. His comments and report were very exciting. Concluding that all the tests he performed were satisfactory, he wrote: “The CT scan of the thorax, abdomen, and pelvis showed no axillary, mediastinal, abdominal or pelvic lymph node. The spleen appears fractionally smaller than previously, and shows tiny unchanged low-density surface nodules towards the hilum. That the kidneys and remaining abdominal viscera appear normal, the lungs clear, and no evidence of pathological lymph node enlargement.’’ This was my medical condition when the accident of May 2003 occurred on my way to the Abuja airport to catch the flight to Lagos. All I had waited for was for me to be given the all-clear signal by end of July 2003. Now this accident came to complicate it once again. I flew into London at the invitation of my uncle, Chief Tony Anenih, who asked me to see my doctor and check myself very well after the accident. I ran to The Lister Hospital to see Dr. Phillips. After his examination, he asked that I should be checked under the CT scan and that an MRI should be done of the soft tissues of my neck. He noted that ‘‘even though the blood tests show normal haematology, biochemistry and liver function but that I was tender of the skull and right lateral hip and does have a couple of rubbery, mobile glands in the right groin.” He then invited the consultant surgeon, Mr. J. Meirion Thomas to perform a biopsy of the right inguinal lymph node. I was subsequently wheeled into the surgical theatre and the rubbery lymph node in the right groin was removed and sent to the laboratory. On June 2, 2003, I returned for the result of the test. I was informed that the lymph node removed from my right groin was found to be non-malignant. That I could return to Nigeria without any fear. I was excited. Thereafter, I returned to Lagos. I continued with the six-monthly blood checks without fail under the watch of Professor Akinyanju in Lagos. The blood test I did in Lagos in December 2003 under Professor Akinyanju clearly confirmed that my lymphoma was in complete remission. However, in the years that followed, I have always been frightened each time I found a swelling on my body. A few occasions I suspected some swelling on my right neck and right thigh. On such occasions, I ran to the hospital to check if I was having a relapse. I decided to do another check in September 2011. I had been concerned with different developments and health challenges I seemed to have experienced and I went to meet Dr. Phillips at the Cancer Centre in Wimbledon, London. For two days, I did a comprehensive check of every possible medical fear I had and was ready for the outcome. I was satisfied with all the processes. The result was very reassuring and Dr. Phillips affirmed that the lymphoma continued to be in remission and that I was very well. Here I was when a few years before and at the age of 45 years I was virtually on my death bed. I had been reconstructed somewhat. God has saved my life.

The financial outlay that went into my treatment was in the region of 30,000 pounds sterling. Allstates Trust Bank championed it all. I was under the supervision of extremely competent medical professionals in Nigeria and the United Kingdom. I received the best treatment available during my ill health. Chairman Banigo spared no effort and my gratitude to him knows no bound. All the medical professionals that had a hand in my treatment worked earnestly to keep me alive. I was very lucky that each of them treated me with seriousness and no one ever saw me as a dispensable patient. Eminent professionals like Dr. Senbanjo, Dr. Folgelman, Dr. Costello, Mr. Nott, Dr. Phillips, Professor Akinyanju, Dr. Chiodini, Mr. Thomas, Dr. King and their back-up staff did all they could to save my life. It was a difficult job they did and because I kept my condition hidden from the medical doctors for nearly two years, I almost ran into the ‘‘no return region.’’ I fully appreciated the working methods of the British medical doctors. They always sought the professional opinion of their expert colleagues before embarking on the next course of treatment. They do not treat a patient in a haste. If any of the medical doctors were in a hurry to prescribe a course of treatment for me, it is obvious that I would not have stayed alive beyond three years after my principal ailment had been remedied. After every medical examination on a patient, the London doctors would write a report of their findings and send a copy to the patient and all those who have had anything to do with the patient up until then. Such reports make the case history of a patient easy to follow. It also gives the opportunity to any of the intervening medical officers to correct any previously suggested mode of treatment on which they had had a change of mind. Their secretaries are always so well deployed. The hospitals I visited during the course of my treatment were magnificent buildings. They were like five-star hotels. They have the required facilities needed in a proper hospital and had restaurants where patients and visitors could buy food and snacks. They had waiting rooms where visitors could sit in comfort. They were very welcoming. Not once did I perceive an offensive odour in any of the hospitals. I also observed that a medical doctor could be consulted in as many as five different hospitals. Because their time of consultations were well known, patients could easily be programmed to see them by appointments. The doctors move from one hospital to another and consult in their areas of specialisation. In this way, their expertise is made fully available to their nationals or patients who come to consult them. It is instructive that a medical doctor that consults in Cromwell Hospital also consults in Charring Cross Hospital, despite the classes of patients the two hospitals care for. The British medical system is in a class of its own. Nigeria has so much to learn. Happily, I survived and I thank God that he gave me the opportunity to make these observations. I pray relentlessly never to have a second attack of another cancer affliction, that no one in my household or known to me would be unfortunate enough to contact the ailment. May the name of the Lord be praised both now and forever! Amen. 7KH %RRN µ3RZHUHG E\ 3RYHUW\¶ FDQ EH SXUFKDVHG DW 5RYLQJ +HLJKWV %RRNVWRUH DW 1R 2JXQODQD 'ULYH 6XUXOHUH /DJRV DQG IURP /DWHUQD 9HQWXUHV /LPLWHG 2NR $ZR6WUHHW 9LFWRULD ,VODQG /DJRV

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