My vision is to raise awareness, through cycling and running, that TB is a fully treatable and curable disease. To do that I will participate in a minimum of one marathon or ultra as well as a road cycling race every month, and for every kilometre I cover in races, a sponsored food parcel will be donated to TB sufferers, provided they take their prescribed medication every day.( To get me through this challenge, my training programme will be provided by Sean Tait of Off the Mark.)

HEALTH ISSUES

So how did I get to this point? It goes back to 1989, when I became ill and just didn’ t get better. Going to GP’ s with regular monotony, I had unexplained symptoms – my immune system was down, a cough that was not getting better, progressive increase of mucus, respiratory tract infections, weight-loss, night sweats and a general feeling of tiredness and weakness. All classic symptoms of tuberculosis, I realised later,

but all the doctors I saw diagnosed bronchitis, or asthma, or flu, and prescribed inhalers, antibiotics and painkillers... so much medication that I could have opened my own pharmacy!

It became increasingly difficult to participate in sport, especially running, as my chest would burn, breathing was difficult, and my legs felt like lead, but I kept plodding along. Then one Saturday morning, after finishing a half marathon with much duress, I went round to my mom for our traditional post-race breakfast, but started to feel light-headed and collapsed. I was rushed to the doctor and he said the symptoms looked like TB. My mother was extremely angry: How dare he say her son had TB? Like many others, she thought TB is a disease that exists only in poor communities, a common misconception.

TESTING AND TREATMENT

The doctor took sputum, urine and blood samples to do a TB culture, and X-rays showed that I had a“ black spot” on my lung. And so the long wait began for the test results. As a precautionary measure I was isolated from my children and the outside world, and not allowed to go to work, and my family had to go for chest X-rays to check if they too were infected. Meanwhile, my mother was my‘ Florence Nightingale.’ I went to stay with her, and she took the risk of looking after me during my contagious period. For two long weeks, which felt like an eternity, my mind swirled with questions: How did I get TB? Could I have given

this to someone else? Is it fatal? Then came the results … Positive.

It took a further six weeks until I was started on anti-TB medication through the State Public Health TB Programme. My first appointment was at Brooklyn Chest Hospital, where they assigned a sister who would visit every morning to apply DOT( Direct Observation Treatment) Therapy, but my mom insisted that she would take care of me. True to her word, she was there every morning, as regular as clockwork, for breakfast and then medication. I can still clearly remember her words:“ My child, you must take your tablets. You do want to get better, don’ t you?”

The treatment was difficult in the beginning. I can remember just how weak I was. I could barely work, always so drowsy and tired, had lost my appetite … and the tablets made me feel nauseous. Six tablets daily, the size of suppositories, difficult to swallow. Even getting dressed became a chore, and sleep became my favourite pastime. Obviously, my running became non-existent. I could barely tie my shoelaces, let alone run around the block! I was too tired to stand for even short periods of time, and when I went to the funeral of a dear friend, I collapsed in the church. Even worse, when friends and acquaintances heard that I had TB, many looked at me so very differently. Some even shunned me. It was difficult to explain to them that I was no longer contagious once I was on the

Images: Courtesy Neal Stacey