One Surgery, One Life Changed: Melokuhle’s Story

It’s early on a Saturday morning at the Red Cross War Memorial Children’s Hospital (RCWMCH). The first rays of sunlight are starting to filter through the windows, lighting up a day surgery unit already bustling with activity. The air buzzes with anticipation and nervous excitement. One of the families being prepared for surgery is four-year-old Melokuhle and his mother, Nonthuthuzelo. While Melokuhle is engrossed in building trucks out of blocks and excitedly showing them off to anyone who will stop to look, Nonthuthuzelo watches on. She is smiling softly, deep in thought.

Nonthuthuzelo is hopeful that this day could be the end of a two-year struggle. “Two years ago, I noticed that he would snore when he was sleeping. Then he would foam, so I couldn’t sleep.” Nonthuthuzelo recalls, a hint of fear in her voice. They visited their local clinic, where doctors prescribed medication to clear Melokuhle’s sinuses, but the problem persisted. “At night, I have to hold him to help with his breathing.”

Exhausted and desperate, Nonthuthuzelo took Melokuhle back to the clinic. This time, they were referred to a specialist at Langa Clinic, who then referred them on to RCWMCH. Specialists at the RCWMCH determined that Melokuhle’s tonsils and adenoids were enlarged and obstructing his breathing. They would need to be removed but, because his surgery was not an emergency, he was placed on a waiting list.

Helpless, Nonthuthuzelo struggled on for two years. Even though Melokuhle’s condition was not life-threatening, it had a huge impact on both his and his mom’s well-being. “He’s got a problem with concentration at school. The doctors said that his breathing could be affecting the oxygen reaching his brain. And he can’t sleep properly. I’m not getting enough sleep, either.”

The problems with his tonsils and adenoids also caused continual infections. “I’m always worried when the school calls to tell me he’s got a fever and asks me to fetch my son. Then I have to take unpaid leave, but we really need money. My managers are starting to think I’m making excuses to miss work.”

Eventually, the strain almost became too much to bear. “I even thought about sending him back to KwaZulu-Natal to live with my mother,” she admits, her voice breaking. “It felt like my only options were either he goes home, or I go home with him.” Then, the call came that Melokuhle’s surgery had been scheduled.

Nonthuthuzelo is incredibly grateful for the hope that the WWL offers, “I love this programme. Thank you so much.” Tears well up in her eyes and she twists her hands in her lap as she whispers, “At least now he’ll be able to go to a normal school because the teacher was telling me that he’ll have to go to a special school if he doesn’t get better.” Her head drops suddenly into her arms and she sobs softly. As her crying slows, she looks up again, a mixture of sadness and hope on her face, “I really hope this will work. It’s been a hard journey.”