True Story – Gontlafetse Sehako
Gontlafetse Sehako, 30, on dreaming big, and finding the will to live to the fullest despite having to carry an oxygen tank wherever she goes
“I’m from a small village outside Pampierstad in the Northern Cape, where I lived with my aunt and grandmother. They raised me until I finished high school in 2006. In 2007, I moved to Joburg, and enrolled for an IT diploma at Damelin Business College. I lived with my mom, and graduated in 2009. During that time, I got to reconnect with her, which made me really excited about our future together.
It’s while struggling to secure an internship in 2010, that life changed completely. It all started with a cough, which we shrugged off as just a simple cold that would eventually clear on its own. But when it persisted, my mom sought opinions from various doctors over the course of a month. But nothing changed. Instead, I lost a lot of weight. None of the doctors knew what was wrong with me – some assumed it was asthma. I took various medications, but nothing worked. And then one day, I collapsed. My mom rushed me to the doctor, where I woke up unable to walk or talk. It was truly the scariest moment of my life. The doctors still couldn’t agree on a diagnosis — so all they did was sedate, and send me home. Things got worse the very next morning. I have no recollection of what happened that day – I was in such a daze that my mom had to, later, fill in the gaps. I was taken to a local clinic, where I was then referred to a hospital, little knowing that it would be my home for the next six months. I still can’t connect the dots of that entire period. To get a glimpse of my life in hospital, my mother had to show me pictures taken on her daily visits. She bathed, fed and nursed me back to life during that time. The doctors, eventually, found the cause of the the problem. When we were told that my one lung had collapsed, I honestly had no idea of the uphill battle that awaited me.
I was discharged on Christmas Eve in 2010, but the excitement was short-lived as I was readmitted to hospital two days later. I later discovered that I’d caught an infection while at home, which exacerbated my symptoms. My body and lungs couldn’t function outside the confines of a hospital, I was told. I was put on a drip to treat the infection, but my entire body swole up because, as it
turned out, they’d pumped me with too much fluid. I shot up to size 40 — oh, the horror! I was readmitted for another three months. That time around, however, I was mentally present and aware of what was happening.
The doctors diagnosed me with severe oedema and discharged me. Again, as soon as I got home, another problem arose. My veins started getting blocked, which then affected my heart. So, off to a Pretoria hospital I went. I was given medication to drain the excess water. The damage and weight gain took a whole year to reverse – that’s how long I was hospitalised.
My mother was my biggest source of strength. Because of her, I survived the hardest times on the journey of my health. I wanted to see her daily, which was impossible as she had work to go to. She went out of her way to assure me that everything would be fine in the end. My friends also tried their best to keep me company – they had their own lives to live, so I understood that they couldn’t visit me at a moment’s notice. These abrupt life changes left me depressed and desolate. I’d never imagined having to put my dreams on hold because of a lifethreatening illness. My new reality was a bitter pill to swallow, but once I was done feeling bleak, I forced myself to embrace a positive outlook.
I was later diagnosed with cor pulmonale, a condition that causes the right side of the heart to fail, and my right lung was confirmed as having fully collapsed. I was ecstatic when, one day, the doctors told me that I was free to go home. The catch, however, was that I’d need a constant supply of oxygen, as breathing on my own was impossible. I was instructed to collect the oxygen tank from Joburg, which made the drive home from Pretoria longer than usual. I, once again, experienced breathing problems and blacked out before reaching the Joburg hospital. That entire car scene really rattled my poor mother. I was rushed straight to high intensive care, and remained there until my tank was delivered at home.
In 2013, I could finally declare that I was no longer a hospital patient! The biggest challenge going forward was affording the treatment — the portable oxygen tank alone costs about R47 000. I can’t bear to think how things would have panned out were it not for my mom’s medical aid. She sacrificed everything to afford the treatment
and other hospital bills. Being hospitalised at a government facility toughened me up – the nurses didn’t coddle me one bit!
Then in 2015, just as I was learning to co-exist with my illness, life dealt me another blow. My mom passed away, which as you can imagine, left me distraught, to say the least. In hindsight, surviving this phase made me even stronger. I learnt to stand on my own two feet. I now have my own medical aid, which grants me access to private healthcare facilities.
It’s been almost 10 years since I fell ill, and I can now confidently say that I have this life thing by the horns. I used to drown in self-pity, and worry about the things I couldn’t do. Then, I read about a guy called Nick Vujicic, who was born without limbs, yet lives his life to the fullest. If he could do that, then I, too, could get my life back on track. I’ve raised funds to buy a portable oxygen supply, which allows me full mobility. I share my story on social media in hopes that it will inspire others. I’ve also become adventurous — I’ve just returned from a trip to Mozambique with my friends!
I’m due for a lung transplant soon because my functional lung is enlarged, which affects my other vital organs. The dead lung can’t be operated on due to complications, so it’ll remain in my body. Following my mom’s death, I was adopted by a Portuguese family, who have become my support base. I also completed a learnership with The Creative Counsel, which will allow me to expand my support group, Mapafu Foundation, into an NGO. The foundation assists people with heart and lung conditions. It’s still run on WhatsApp, but I’m working on finding ways to reach out to as many people as possible.”
My new reality was a bitter pill to swallow, but once I was done feeling bleak, I forced myself to embrace a positive outlook.