Cancer took my health, heartbreak everything else: Leah Wanjiru's silent battle

Leah Wanjiru sits alone on a plastic chair outside her home in Pipeline Estate, on the outskirts of Nakuru city.

Before her lies a crumpled khaki paper bag, its contents spilling out, a confusing assortment of medicines.

She carefully sorts through them, returning some and pulling others out, her frail hands betraying the weight she carries. Cancer has taken almost everything from her — her health, strength and savings. Then, at her darkest hour, her husband walked away.

“He left in the eleventh hour — the pain, the struggle... maybe it was too much for him,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Papillary thyroid cancer has turned Wanjiru’s life upside down. Once steady, her footing is now uncertain, her days filled with pills — and prayers.

And yet, through it all, she holds on to her faith, believing that if not the medicine, then God will somehow ease her pain.

“My world is crumbling; the pillar of my life is gone. I don’t know whether to blame him or not — he tried. But maybe I had become a burden,” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She forces a smile, but beneath it lies a heavy cloud of sadness, pain and unspoken memories. She never imagined life could be this cruel.

Her hoarse voice, laboured breathing and swollen neck tell the story her heart has carried for years. She remembers 2012, when a lump appeared on her neck. At the Rift Valley Provincial General Hospital in Nakuru, doctors diagnosed her with goitre and recommended further tests.

But by 2015, as her voice grew faint and her fears deepened, she sought a second opinion at Kijabe Hospital — unconvinced by the initial diagnosis.

“I was losing my voice and the lump kept growing. At Kijabe, they did a biopsy and confirmed it was papillary thyroid cancer. They removed my thyroid,” she recalls.

For a moment, she believed she was reclaiming her life. But in December 2015, another lump appeared on her neck.

Her condition worsened, and she was referred to a hospital in India where she underwent a second surgery. Afterwards, she was given a clean bill of health.

But just as hope began to bloom, life dealt her another blow. A new mass formed on her neck, and with it, fear returned.

She visited several hospitals in the country but each one warned her of the risks tied to yet another surgery, leaving her without clear options.
“The doctors warned me that I could lose my mobility and voice. But when I sought a second opinion in India, I was assured the surgery could be done safely,” she says.

She discovered that the hospital in India had advanced equipment that could help her — but the cost put it out of reach. Her treatment would cost Sh2.5 million, a figure far beyond her means. In the meantime, she relies on targeted therapy, which comes at a heavy price.

“I travel to Nairobi every week for my medication. The most expensive drug costs Sh33,000 — it helps reduce the mass. If I miss a dose, the swelling worsens,” she explains.

Before illness struck, Wanjiru was a hotelier in Pipeline. She ran the business to support her family. But as her health deteriorated, she could no longer keep it afloat.

Eventually, she was forced to sell the hotel to cover her soaring medical bills.

The mother of two — a boy and a girl — says her illness has deeply affected her children, both mentally and emotionally.

“My daughter, a second-year student at Kenyatta University, was forced to drop out. My son also left secondary school but thankfully resumed last year,” she says, pausing to catch her breath.

She and her husband had sought counselling for their children, but things worsened after the couple separated.

The pain of watching her children’s lives unravel continues to weigh heavily on her. While friends, family, and her church have offered support, she quietly wonders, “For how long?”

Her husband’s departure left not only emotional scars but also a financial gap she struggles to bridge — especially when it comes to affording medication and surgery.

Still, she clings to hope. Her greatest desire is to recover, for the sake of her children, who now face an uncertain future. She urges the government to invest in the health sector to avoid patients falling into depression due to financial constraints.

Dr Allan Gray, an ENT (ear, nose and throat) surgeon, explains that papillary thyroid cancer is one of several types of thyroid cancer.

“It’s aggressive but treatable when caught early,” he says. “However, when detected late, it becomes more complicated to manage.”

Dr Gray notes that the cancer can invade nearby tissues and spread to the lymph nodes, chest, lungs and abdomen.

In advanced cases, doctors may perform surgery followed by thyroid ablation — a procedure that destroys remaining thyroid tissue.

“Thyroid ablation doesn’t always work, especially in later stages, but when the cancer is still confined to the thyroid gland, treatment is often successful,” he adds.

Women over the age of 45 are more commonly affected than men, although the reason for this remains unclear.
“Risk factors include being female and exposure to radiation,” he says.

Dr Gray also points out that papillary thyroid cancer surgery is available in Kenya, and patients in public hospitals can use SHA insurance to help cover part of the treatment cost.

He emphasises the importance of early detection: “If you notice any swelling in the neck, seek medical attention promptly. Doctors can use ultrasound and fine needle aspiration to check for cancerous cells — and if caught early, it can be treated.”