The Walking Dead

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I had this pain in my right left leg three Sundays ago. Came right out of the blue the morning after a 10km run.  My entire calf was aflame, so I dragged it around like I had gout. It didn’t bother me much because when you walk with a limp you look like you are that guy who ventures where other men don’t.  Besides, we are MEN, right? We don’t go to hospital over small muscular pains, do we? What are you going to tell the doctor? That your calf hurts? Then what? Then ask you to lie on those beds, draw the curtains and proceed to massage your calf while asking you in those low bedroom voices that doctors adopt while trying to find your pain: “There, how does that feel? Is that painful, Jackson?” (Doctors are always calling me Jackson. Hate it!) And you would moan softly and say, “Yes,…! There…..there doc!….”

So we only go see a doctor if we are bleeding from a hole in our head.

The pain in my calf persisted. My veins felt folded and swollen. I figured, you know what? Screw this mandingo nonsense I will go hosi but I will pray that I’m seen by a female doctor, preferably one with dimples. Or a tattoo. So at 6:30am a few Mondays ago, I limped into Aga Khan Hospital. There is hardly anybody there at that time. And service is faster.

There was only one other person in casualty; a guy who had on a maasai shuka for a sling supporting his obviously broken hand. He was in pain. He had been brought by his wife/girlfriend who I swear looked happy he had broken his hand.  She wore – over her maroon jacket – a smirk that seemed to say, “Serves you right for not listening to me. Let’s see how you will hold your beer now.”

Causality is where the devil goes for a ciggie break. The amount of suffering and pain that go through there is unimaginable. Generally you can’t help but wonder the kind of stuff doctors see in hospitals. The guys who date or are married to doctors should tell us how it is to be with a doctor after they have spent the whole day with sickness, suffering, pain and death. I always wonder if they wake up in the middle of the night with a stat (sic) screaming, “THAT IS AN ENZYME DEFICIENCY!!! ENZYME DEFICIENCY!” and you have to hug them and shoo them back to sleep while saying soothingly, “sshhhh it’s OK…it’s OK, babe, it’s only a bad dream…there are no enzymes here. The bad enzymes are gone.”

Anyway, because I have shit luck I got a male doctor. No (visible) tattoo, or dimple. He was some cool Sikh guy with hairy hands. He pressed a stubby finger against my vein and said, “you have weak veins.” I was confused by what that meant. “So it’s not a muscular problem?” I asked like a wiseass. He said no, but to be sure he sent me for an ultrasound.  He called for a wheelchair but I told him that I was cool, I could walk it. He said he would be more comfortable if I was wheeled instead and I wondered, Shit kwani I’m dying and this guy isn’t telling me?

You can ask for a wheelchair the next time you visit the hospital, even if you just have a flu and you are on piritons and you are woozy. They won’t have the heart to say no. Plus it’s not like they have to fuel the damn thing.

This orderly pushed me around, saying nary a word. Chaps who push you on a wheelchair aren’t used to conversation because the people they usually push are normally too busy listening to their own pain. But I’m always curious at what people do and I can’t shut up in the morning, so I asked him, “Who is the one patient you pushed on a wheelchair that you remember the most?” He didn’t say a word for a while, and when I sort of turned to see if someone was still pushing me or I was on cruise control, he sort of mumbled, “eeh, hiyo lazima nifikirie.” I believe he’s still thinking about his answer.

Only problem being wheeled is that people sort of stare at you and wonder what you could be suffering from. They wonder if you have some sort of enzyme deficiency; if the bad enzymes had finally caught up with you.

I suspect being a doctor now is much harder than it was 15-years ago because now we have Google which means we are all doctors, aren’t we? Doctors can’t tell us shit. I suspect when a bunch of doctors converge in a sanitized room for their tea break, they trade stories of frustrations about wiseass middle-class patients who are always Googling their diagnoses and medications, patients who are always finishing Doctor’s statements or challenging their opinions.  Now doctors have to deal with modern wiseass patients asking modern wiseass questions based off their extensive Googling skills. This legion of guys who graduated from Grey’s Anatomy School of Medicine, Class of 2010 and feel they know medicine.

It’s the doctors’ faults. It’s the hospitals’ fault. When you keep us waiting at the reception for hours what do you think we do?

We Google shit.

And we come up with our own diagnosis and our medication, hell we even know the side effects of medicines. By the way, never google the side-effects of medicines. You will end up going for a “holistic” option. Most of them start with death. Haha. Death is a side effect of most medicine. Irony, eh? Hell, death is indeed the side effect of life.

Anyway, when a hospital installs free Wifi in the waiting area, they are shooting themselves in the foot because we go to WebMD and Medicinenet  and Mayo clinic and we google our condition. We cram our heads with such online garbage that when we walk into your little celebrated cubicle we aren’t too impressed with your stethoscopes anymore because we KNOW what’s wrong with us and we KNOW the interventions needed. We even use the word “intervention.” Hell we will also use the word “prophylaxis” for shits and giggles.

And that must really annoy the hell out of doctors, especially doctors who attend to wiseass and snooty middle-class patients who you can’t tell shit without them mentioning their “private doctor!” : “I will have to consult my private doctor on this.” “My private doctor doesn’t normally recommend this line of treatment.” “My private doctor told me the usage of this drug has since been discontinued.”

If you have a “private doctor” what are you doing there then?

A rushed and hustled petite lady with short hair was my radiologist. She asked me to change into this blue garb and lie on my back. She said “We are going to have a look at your right leg, is this your right leg, Jackson?” I said indeed it was my right leg. It felt like a court proceeding: Mr. Biko, do you testify that this sample here, evidence Zulu-2677 is your right leg?

I know its procedure but she kept asking me if that was my right leg. She asked so many times I started suspecting it wasn’t my right leg. She pressed some cold gooey stuff down my strong hard muscular thighs (just let me have that one) then ran her thingamajig on it as she stared at her screen intently, taking pictures of my veins. After 15mins she announced nonchalantly: “You have a clot in your vein.”

A what??

I don’t know if you know this, but people die from clots in their veins. Clots ride up to your heart and just when you are ordering a drink you will fall off your stool and die with the words, “…on the rocks, plea…” on your lips. Or die on your steering wheel just as the lights change green. Or in your sleep. Clots are sneaky bastards who don’t warn you.

Now that explained the wheelchair!

In a very steady voice, I asked a leading question like the ones chicks always ask us. The ones that have no right answer. Case in point, “Do you think I have gained weight?” Ha! Like you can tell them they have gained weight and it will end there? Please! So you will ask the safest question universally? “Why?” And she will say, “Because I met Flora, remember that chick I used to work with? She said I have gained.” You will silently curse Flora and then pretending to look at her critically you will say cautiously, “Well, I don’t think you have gained anything.” And she will say, “I think I have gained a bit, that blue dress is so tight on me nowadays…” (Oh look! She asked and answered her own question!). You will keep quiet because that’s what smart men do. Then she will ask, “But I haven’t gained too much, sindio?” And you will say, “Well, no,” which is a trap because now you have admitted that she has gained some weight and your life will shortly turn into hell. She will act like she isn’t bothered, that she has moved on, that she is comfortable being a ‘larger’ woman and then when you have completely forgotten that storo, when you are vulnerable, she will come straight at you from the blue: “So you think I’m heavy yet you haven’t said a word?!! I thought we agreed we’d be honest with each other?”

And downhill it goes.

Anyway, back to the radiologist. I asked her:  “Is this clot thing a good thing or a bad thing?” And I half expected her to say, “I dunno, Jackson, why don’t you Google that? We have free wifi.”  Hehe. I swear I can be fired on my second day as a doctor.

She said, “It’s not a good thing and it’s not a bad thing, but you know it’s below your knees where the vessels are smaller and far from the heart, now that we have seen it on time, the doctor will decide the course of treatment…” I drifted off as she spoke. I will be honest, I panicked. I don’t want to die. There is so much to do.

Because of the pain the doctor put me on a drip. The IV was set up by a chirpy male nurse who explained that I might feel nauseous. He hooked me up and before closing the curtains to my cubicle, he said, Press this red thingy here in case you need help. Two minutes later, I wanted to test if the red thingy actually works and how long they take to get to my bed. I wanted to test if he can move faster than my clot, so I pressed it. He was there in a flash. “Yes, Jackson everything OK?” I swear if it was a female nurse I would have told her with a dramatic whisper, “Please stay with me, I’m scared, hold my hand, don’t go. I’m scared of this bloody clot, here let me put my head on your chest…” Hehe. Then see what she will do. But it was the damn male nurse again, so I said, “how do I recline this bed, boss?” And he reclined it. Then moved the red button so far away from me with that look that seemed to say, “This, Jackson, is not a toy.”

When you are told something like you have a clot, everything quiets down. Literally. The hospital ruckus behind the curtain quieted. I lay there, staring at the white ceiling thinking, shit, this is how people die. No warning. The first call I made was to the only mother I have left – Melvine, my big sis. (By the way Melvine can also be a chick’s name. And no, Melvine doesn’t look like a guy. She pretty).

Maybe it was the drug, but by this time I was so calm.

We go to bed at night already planning about the next day because we assume that the next day is assured. We forget to live because there is always something we have to do. Someone we have to see. A goal we have to achieve. Money we have to make. People we have to compare ourselves to. The daily rat race of life catches up with us and it makes us forget life. We forget to smell the flowers, figuratively of course.

All this while, a clot forms in your vein. Or a cancerous cell builds in your stomach.

That clot made me take a step back and say, “wait, slow down.”

As I lay there, Pharis, the comms guy for Bidco called. I had completely forgotten the interview with Vimal Shah, an interview that we have been talking about for ages. It was scheduled for 11am in Thika. It was 10am and I was hooked up to a drip in Parklands. It amazed me how quickly life changes and how when it changes certain things lose their urgency. I swear Obama would have called for an interview and I would have said, “Barry, not today, please.” I told Pharis that I was in hospital and that I would call when done to reschedule. He didn’t sound like he believed me.

I looked at my phone calendar. I had things to do. Tons of things. Things I was going to have to cancel. Money I was going to lose. There was a talk at The Village Market that Saturday. There was Safaricom’s 10-Day Capture Kenya trip for their 2016 calendar. There was a General Motors trip to Johannesburg and then the Johannesburg shopping festival at the end of the month which I was really looking forward to because they were inviting several bloggers across Africa to go down to shop at their expense! Then an Asia trip. And a Diani trip. (By the way, Leopard Beach Resort, Diani, has fantastic Christmas offer now, 30% off on all rooms, call 0701 772023)  Then of course there were the numerous copy deadlines that I had put in my phone calendar.

While lying in that bed, drugs coursing through my vein, staring at my calendar it all felt like someone else had made those plans.

A week later I decided to see this specialist I know. A cardiologist. An old professor with a stack of white hair. Professor Ogolla. The guru.  It’s always comforting to be seen by an old experienced doctor, isn’t it? They are always so calm, almost to the point of putting you to sleep. And they never consult those little books doctors are always consulting. You go to an old doctor and you feel like you have not only gone to a healer, you have gone to a father.

He did tests, an MRI, he studied my ultrasound results. He stuck a cold stethoscope on my chest. He listened to my lungs and my heart. He asked a ton of questions. He studied my calf. All tests came out great. My heart was perfect. So were my lungs. He said that he wasn’t convinced that the black dot in my vein was actually a clot. And in case it was too small to cause any significant damage. But he said he wants to err on the side of caution and asked me to continue taking the drugs for another month just to be sure.

I’m on blood thinners. That isn’t actually as serious as it sounds. I only use to elicit sympathy. Case in point:

Cop to me on Ngong Road: “Mbona unafanya right turn hapa? Leta driving licence haraka!”

Me: Niko on blood thinners officer.

Officer: Ati nini??

Me: Blood thinners…niko na ka clot kwa mguu.

Officer: Leta drivers licence bwana, wacha mambo ya clot.

Me: Lakini wewe huna huruma, officer?

Officer: Kwani clot ndio imefanya illegal turn? Basi nipe driving licence ya hiyo clot.

Haha. Nobody cares for my blood clot-o.

Let’s try again.

I skip a queue at the bank. A guy with a shady moustache behind me cries wolf. A bank attendant shows up with his bad tie and reports me: this asshole here thinks he has more important things to do than everyone else here so he is jumping the queue.

Me to the bank attendant: Look, I have a clot. I can’t stand in the queue for too long.

Bank guy: I’m sorry, you have a what?

Me: A blood clot.

Banker: Oh, and where is this clot?

Me: On my calf.

Moustache guy: Oh please. And I’m pregnant!

Me: With that potbelly, yes you are – with twins.

Suffice it to say, I’m forced to go to the back of the queue.

More.

You guy, kwani you don’t return people’s calls nowadays?

Pole, guy, But I have a clot.

Ah, pole.

*

Biko, you can’t show up home at this time of the night, two days in a row. It’s bullshit.

Come on, cut me some slack here, do you know how it feels like to have a clot in your leg?

*

Editor: Biko, It’s Tuesday and I haven’t seen copy from you, you are missing deadlines!

Me: It’s this clot…

Her: Has it moved to your finger?

*

OK, one last one, I promise.

At a cocktail shindig, me introducing myself.

Hi, my name is Biko, and this here is Imelda, my clot.

Hohohoho!

OK, I’m done.

Don’t google the side effects of some drugs like Xarelto. It will make you feel like you are dying. Going to Google sometimes feels like going to a dodgy palm reader. Or that psychotic quack who raped unconscious women. Google is like dating a girl who writes you five long continues SMSs when she is mad at you and naming them, “part one, part two..”

I’m functioning normally. You either wait to die or you live and die.  We are all going to die of something we didn’t see coming or something we saw coming (like drunk driving or eating junk daily). We are the walking dead. You would imagine that having a scare like this would shift something in me. It hasn’t. But when you get a scare you pray.

Prayer being a conversation with God here is how I picture God when I speak to him.

Because he created us in his likeness, some days I picture God to be wearing this striped blue polo shirt with collar half turned up, blue jeans and black sandals. He has long nails which he has been meaning to trim for ages but he hasn’t gotten round to it because he is dealing with your numerous prayers. He’s slim and neat and has like a small sprouting beard. So when I talk to him, I always talk to him like you would to any other guy, but a guy you respect. Which means I told him, “you guy, please don’t scare me with stuff like that again bana. Don’t be that guy who puts a clot in people’s legs just for kicks.”

In my head, he laughs and shakes his head and tells Angel Gabriel, “OK, Gabby, you have made your point, achana with Biko for now, the message is received, now be easy. By the way, how’s that thuggish pastor who can’t speak English doing?”

The moral of this story is simple: If you have pain, don’t be a ninja about it. See a damn doctor!

And don’t make a right turn on Ngong Road.

Get yourself a medical cover, work with God here.

In the meantime I will avoid things that can make me bleed because with blood thinners, you cut yourself you bleed and bleed and bleed.

Which means I can’t run my hand through a weave. Doctor’s order.

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254 Comments
    1. Hahaha…You have no idea how frustrating it is to treat a patient who has been on google for two days! And, Dr Ogolla was my teacher, awesome guy!

    2. Hahaha…You have no idea how frustrating it is to treat a patient who has been on google for two days! And, Dr Ogolla was my teacher, awesome guy!

  1. The guys who date or are married to doctors should tell us how it is to be with a doctor after they have spent the whole day with sickness, suffering, pain and death. I always wonder if they wake up in the middle of the night with a stat (sic) screaming, “THAT IS AN ENZYME DEFICIENCY!!! ENZYME DEFICIENCY!” and you have to hug them and shoo them back to sleep while saying soothingly, “sshhhh it’s OK…it’s OK, babe, it’s only a bad dream…there are no enzymes here. The bad enzymes are gone.”
    Great piece Jackson haha

  2. I had to sit up straight for this… For the first time no one looked at your fore-head seeing that you were in a wheel chair. Quick recover though. I laughed though… That’s a good thing right?

  3. hahahahahahahahaha! Aki Biko, am i glad i dropped everything to read this. I was having a very crappy morning but thanks to you, this smile aint fading away anytime soon. This piece for me rates up there with the 3-am man and just wear clean underwear….now i have 3 favorites. Keep up the good work, and while at it get well soon.

  4. Hehehe mayyyeeen nice piece right there….and you are lucky. have a pal who had a clot in his balls. Cant wait for the next post
    Great Day Jackso…Oohh sorry ment Biko

  5. I am a blogger myself, and I must admit Biko you are my greatest inspiration when it comes to writing. Hope to meet you someday. Great article. Totally enjoyed reading, and always with constant little sneaky smiles and laughter. Keep up the good job, you have no idea how many people you are positively impacting.

  6. Pole Biko.
    Reading this from my hospital bed,been here last 2 weeks due to a back injury gone bad. Hope I won’t develop clots coz all av been doing is lying down.
    That guy up there though, he is amazing and he heals. So get well too Biko.we need you to keep us entertained.

  7. You have made me realize how sometimes we go through life without
    appreciating what is important, smelling the flowers like you put it.food for thought..
    On a lighter note I love how you bring humour to just about anything. you are lucky you don’t have enzyme deficiency hehe sounds like one hell of a disease!

  8. Being a medic… I encounter that shit when patients google their symptoms…and whatever tests they have been told to endure. I totally hate this crap.
    P.s Get well soon Biko.

  9. What really is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare. Biko, a thought provoking read this is. I wish you a speedy recovery.

  10. Eine Gute Besserung Biko. Get well soon. That death is a side effect of life is one of those poignant but matter of fact phrases in The Fault in Our Stars. Don’t quote sad books when talking about a clot you guy. It’s a clot!! Ha! Take care.

  11. Hahahah Biko….Yes,I am a medical doctor and i don’t wake up screaming enzyme deficiency.Anyway keep up the good work and get well soon

  12. Biko, you made me laugh so loud today when I was feeling real sad. Am glad I have read this, your humor can heal I tell you. Am glad you responded and went to hospital, and Aga khan usually respond very fast especially if it’s a blood clot on the leg. I know a youth girl who died of pulmonary embolism, the result of that blood clot that starts from the leg to the heart. Basically you choke to death. It comes masaa and if you don’t act fast you are gone in a flash. People shoul be aware it kills fast if you don’t get the right help fast. Am glad you got treated. Heck, ingekuwaje bila our dose of serious laughter? Get well soon.

  13. Boss! you just gave me a better persepective about life and put the smile back on my face! Hillariously narrated. Get well soon Biko, we need you!

  14. Hilarious piece as always. Especially the part where we google any ailment we get (or our kids). Then after we’re given medication, we google it to see if we can still take alcohol with them only to read horror side effects lol.
    Keep ’em coming, sir.

  15. Pole Biko!
    People should learn that Mr Google is not a doctor and some of the information available there is not verified.

  16. Biko, you made me laugh so loud today when I was feeling real sad. Am glad I have read this, your humor can heal I tell you. Am glad you responded and went to hospital. I know a young girl who died of pulmonary embolism, the result of that blood clot that starts from the leg to the heart. It comes masaa and if you don’t act fast you are gone in a flash. Am glad you got treated. Heck, ingekuwaje bila our dose of serious laughter? Get well soon.

  17. what was this word count 10,000 words, I feel like I literally spent my whole lunch break reading this. I’ll blame the clot…THIS TIME. Keep it short n sweet Biko.short n sweet.

  18. As usual The Man himself, Biko never disappoints. Pole boss. May the clot realize that you are taking undue advantage of it and leaves you immediately.

  19. ‘Kwani clot ndio imefanya illegal turn? Basi nipe driving licence ya hiyo clot’ hahahaha woi my ribs! my day is made cant stop laughing.

  20. Big mistake i have done of reading this while at the reception of a doctor waiting to be seen other than laughing my lungs out and other patients thinking i have a laughing disease….it made made me scared of what the doctor will say…still waiting..hope it isn’t a clot.
    Pole Biko…u should go to Meru there are magical curtains that can make your clot disappear

  21. Great piece…I was at the village market that day by the way…waiting to hear ur talk(read confirm the size of your forehead)anyhow….I thought u just ditched the gig…but imelda has saved you!
    Now am over the forehead and all I want to see now are the hard thighs….hehehe…

  22. Lol…great piece as usual…..always makes my day, pole Biko, reminds me of that saying; men plan, God laughs. Get well soon.

    PS. I Cant still read you from my desktop.

  23. Life is brief at best.
    Funny, you wrote something that’s been weighing on my mind for weeks. The complete lack of guarantees that life has – well, all except for death.

  24. Great piece Biko as always.
    This is my first comment here. I felt the need to. I guess it’s because you have a clot (hehehe….that actually works).
    Get well soon.

  25. im the guy who dont read shit exceeding one paragraph…. but i read all this from first to the last line and i laughed most of the time… you guy, can write and write, while keeping the attention of your reader

  26. When we heard you were not joining us for Safaricom’s Capture Kenya 2015 edition, our hearts broke. But the coast was joyful. They got me so used to eating a la carte and then after ten days, I am back to githeri and avocado.
    Here is how it went http://www.magunga.com/tag/thisismykenya/

    P.S. Yaani you were to go shopping in Jo’burg on THEIR tab? And then say what? Boss, si you tell them there is this a kablogger over here.

  27. “This legion of guys who graduated from Grey’s Anatomy School of Medicine, Class of 2010 and feel they know medicine.”
    HAHAHAHA

    Ps: Get Well Soon Biko!

  28. Thnx Biko and keep it up. Your stories always have me giggling and cracking up with laughter. Keep ’em coming. I think some gang members will now forgive you for “Nduta getting her groove on”. LOL. Smell the flowers and give hugs and kisses; Dr’s orders.

  29. This is nothing to laugh about.It is one of the largest causes of sudden death.I lost a friend some months ago over this and i feel this article comes across as insensitive.

    1. Biko has actually raised awareness on the issue and has been gracious enough to be transparent in sharing his PERSONAL experience in the way he does best, satire and humour.

    2. well, just pick this very important message Biko has passed … “The moral of this story is simple: If you have pain, don’t be a ninja about it. See a damn doctor!…Get yourself a medical cover, work with God here.”
      i don’t know how you find that insensitive.

    3. I guess the only way some people know ho to deal with their fear s through writing , satire and humour just loosen your tie sit back and read in between the lines . It takes a man to admit his pain..and he has done that through this piece albeit humorously .

  30. “You can’t run your hands through a weave. Doctor’s order.” Hilarious,
    Biko feel better, so that i can guiltlessly laugh about all this.

  31. Clots ride up to your heart and just when you are ordering a drink you will fall off your stool and die with the words, “…on the rocks, plea…” on your lips. phahahahaha awesome read.Quick recovery!

  32. We go to bed at night already planning about the next day because we assume that the next day is assured. We forget to live because there is always something we have to do. Someone we have to see. A goal we have to achieve. Money we have to make. People we have to compare ourselves to. The daily rat race of life catches up with us and it makes us forget life. We forget to smell the flowers, figuratively of course.

  33. Imelda is a nice clot name…so is clottana
    Thanks for this piece, made my afternoon.

    P.S Gabby sounds like someone Ross from friends would love.

  34. Which means I can’t run my hand through a weave. Doctor’s order…..you have nailed it!
    P.S lost a great friend and mentor just the other day as a result of a blood clot….I agree with you Biko If you have pain, don’t be a ninja about it. See a damn doctor!

  35. “Now doctors have to deal with modern wiseass patients asking modern wiseass questions based off their extensive Googling skills. This legion of guys who graduated from Grey’s Anatomy School of Medicine, Class of 2010 and feel they know medicin”
    Pole sana Biko. My friend Wambui must read this so she stops playing ninja

  36. Great piece as usual..I am one of those googling patients! Am sure my doctor rolls his eyes when he sees that he’s seeing me next teheheeh..Get well soon.

  37. The last sentence has killed me….Lol…I have had a similar experience recently wea I woke up to tinnitus…am yet to find a cure..I practically live on google now!

  38. I loved this. As one daily involved in taking care of the sick…thank you for talking about prof. Google and the risks of blood clots. Aaand… no I don’t wake up at night screaming ‘enzyme deficiency’….LOL!

  39. you just had to name the clot imelda!!!! enyewe women are catastrophic!!! no wonder the anti-weaves campaign. but at the rate that guys are doing girl stuff like piercings and hair braiding,soon they might just invent male weaves,lol!!! great story 🙂

  40. Greta piece Biko..just curious..your opening line-which or where exactly is your right left leg??love the clot jokes.

  41. Beautifully crafted………..you will live Biko because of the humour in everything. Stick to the doctor’s orders, and remember nothing on the rocks for a while. He he he

  42. All in all, live long. I still want to be reading you when you have a head full of grey hair, when clots will scare the living daylights out of you for real. Alafu this story has reminded me of that movie “Last Vegas”

  43. “In the meantime I will avoid things that can make me bleed because with blood thinners, you cut yourself you bleed and bleed and bleed.
    Which means I can’t run my hand through a weave. Doctor’s order.”
    Buda, wapashe wabadilike!

  44. Biko Biko, I am laughing in the office like a mad woman. Get well soon. Those conversations about the clot are just the bomb. So you can’t ran your hand through a weave? Are there some made of steel wool? Keep it up!

  45. Biko thank you on behalf of all doctors. Google is mathogoz and having to try convince y’all that its not Prof Ogolla is such a headache. Get well soon. That piece has finished me with laugher

  46. Hahaha…laughed so hard that my ribs are sore..:-) Great piece..”He didn’t say a word for a while, and when I sort of turned to see if someone was still pushing me or I was on cruise control…”
    Meanwhile, the bible says we are just a breath, here one day..gone the next,..we are advised to live our lives wisely, redeeming the time because the days are evil…

  47. Nice read, full of humor as usual. I am a new member here but I am already hooked and I have read all your previous posts.I only used to follow you on Saturday Nation and only knew about this blog during the Jadudi thing.
    I bet if the guy up there decided that you cross over to the other side, given a chance, you will still make us laugh about your demise and how you spent your last minutes here.By the way, how does your missus know when you are serious? You so funny man! When I grow up, I wanna be like you.

  48. Lol.. I want to say quick recovery and all those sorry words we tell a sick person,but the humour! Haha… I’d feel sorry ib one sentence then laugh in the next…get well soon Biko!

  49. Get well soon Jackson haha…visualized you in your green garb with a long slit at the back may our good Lord hear our prayers for your healing..

  50. Ha ha ha I know girls who type long texts when they are mad, but naming them part one and part two, that was a good one. But seriously though Jamaaz stop playing ninja, do not wait for a bleeding hole in your head to go to hosi. Jackson, you will be just fine…

  51. Good summary for YOLO.reminder to always take care of u.I admire your life Biko.full of adventure and being able to view life in a writers point of view is fascinating. great piece as usual.u got me in stitches when u introduced Imelda your clot.also agree with u on working with God point not being an irresponsible believer who leaves everything to God

  52. u can imagine laughing out loudly while scrolling all the way down not minding ppl around u as they wonder wat’s gotten into u..i luv this. bt get well soon

  53. …………But I’m always curious at what people do and I can’t shut up in the morning, so I asked him, “Who is the one patient you pushed on a wheelchair that you remember the most?” He didn’t say a word for a while, and when I sort of turned to see if someone was still pushing me or I was on cruise control, he sort of mumbled, “eeh, hiyo lazima nifikirie.” I believe he’s still thinking about his answer. You cracked my ribs yet again, but on a serious note I do hope it all clears up, 2 months ago I lost my best friend to a blood clot just like that she collapsed and she was gone!

  54. And don’t forget to get yourself a good pair of Antiembolism stocking for use during long flight. ……helps with circulation hence preventing clot formation. #Dr.Sally#

  55. I can understand what you have been going through. Just been diagnosed
    with an ailment. Been asking myself is this it ? Is this all? Now, I
    appreciate the small things in life. Wishing you a quick recovery.

  56. Great piece..! I was diagnosed with the same last year Dec and have been on warfarin ever since after a two week stay in hospital.

  57. Get well soon dude and thank you for reminding me how badly I want to retort to wiseass patients.lol.I’m laughing my toots off.Keep off Dr.Google .it helps.Talking of Xarelto,have you heard it has no antidote yet? another laugh.Don’t let the clot travel to your fingers though….

    Enjoy life.No spare parts you know…hugs!

  58. you got a Midas touch for everything biko,the way you laugh through life…you’ll go order a double on the rocks,as you lift you head your eyes will meet the bush and you’ll want to run you hands through her weave hehe

  59. Nice comment except the part you didn’t include your blog address, he coulda clicked and checked your work. If he would’ve been impressed he would endorse it after a meet(maybe, hopefully). Back to reality I woulda clicked on it and read ur blog posts. I also think atleast 10 others woulda read your blog posts. 2 would share on social media I think you know how this work.

  60. Biko Biko Biko… (with a nigerian accent). You should be dropping these pieces on Mondays as well to get us to a good start to the week!!!

  61. How is your right leg now, Biko? Get well soon. Tuesday is truly my favorite day! Your humour is so good for the soul! Love it!

  62. Hohohoho
    great is an understatement for this piece. You are super awesome at what you do Biko. Most of the time as I read through your blog all I could do was laugh and salute other than pity you. You so gonna be fine.

  63. Hahaa you come home late on two consecutive nights and you blame the poor clot. Nice try buddy.In other news how can you make jokes out of anything? is there somewhere i can Google that? i have free wifi

  64. I was in the same situation a month back. and the way you have given us your story I have felt my own sympathy disappear. Thanks for a good read. Us who have diagnosed and treated with the same can really afford to laugh on those sneaky bastards now.

  65. When you started ati” my right left leg” thought you were talking abt something else….hehehe.And the word for the day was “wiseass” & “shit”…..at one point I started replacing wiseass with smartpants to avoid monotony….. Hehe

  66. Biko thanks for writing this story!Spot on!!I totally relate to it.The red button,the constant drip,the wheelchair,the radiologist and the anaesthesia.I was discharged from Aga khan last week. God bless Dr Jumba and the medics @Aga Khan!!
    Key lesson – when in pain go see a doctor.

  67. hehehehe…that is a good read…ati you are being asked for licence and you start telling cop about the clot…I totally relate with your story.am also on blood thinners…the clot had moved from my leg and found on both lungs.on xarelto drugs.What i know is that God is faithful and he always watchers over us.

  68. “you cut yourself you bleed and bleed and bleed”
    Biko I thought you exaggerated this part so I googled and
    found out its a side effect of the blood thinners.
    And yes I too google every ailment.Thing I do these
    days I wear all my clothes,I enter every place I can afford
    I give out what I no longer need.
    In short I try to live life with no misgivings daily.
    When I die I want people to bring me roses lots of them.
    We shall all die someday…I like the Death is a side effect of life
    part.

  69. Biko I feel you totally, was diagnosed with Chronic Cholecystisis 3 weeks ago, (yeah I know, google it!)got surgery a week later,moral of the story? what you said. Good read.

  70. Biko……….I can accuse you of the stitches on my ribs. I have laughed like not before and now need a doc. Quick recovery brother.

  71. A friend of mine just sent me this . I don’t normally read long blogs but this was amazing and had me hanging on every word. Great read. I definitely have to find ur other work. Get well soon

  72. Great piece as always, may you get well soon. But I do hope no one is taking Xarelto, recently I have been seeing it in bad drug commercials. Those that always start ‘ if you or your loved ones have taken Xarelto please call 1800BAD-DRUG’

  73. Doctors orders..lol! Pole lakini. If I may be kidogo selfish here..glad that the clot (If it is indeed a clot) isn’t in your finger. Get well soon man.

  74. My friend is always raving about Biko. Wasnt interested untill i read that ‘visa’ piece. I swear, i cant stop laughing. Your work is everything i want a blog to be. You are something else.

  75. Nice raed. You have however made me kinda feel old. Proff Ogolla was my year mate in college, and i do not feell like iam an old mann

  76. You cheered up my otherwise crappy day old boy. Fantastic piece, the humour and sarcasm rivals that of my former girlfriend. Excellent JACKSON.

  77. So what happens if you were a female and had to have your menses? Would you bleed to death? Just wondering.
    Get well soon. In the meantime, form a support group with Janet Kanini Ikua.. You two are such good writers you make it seem as if it’s the blood clot wrote it!

  78. you know you are in for a long haul when you are the doctor you are consulting on your clot in stead of seeking a second opinion is consulting google the same place you were before!

  79. LOL….pole Biko but i got to laugh,’ ….and this here is Imelda, my clot”—- i have died laughing in the office. Everyone thinks am crazy but i keep telling them to read your write ups. Is this why you did not show up for that talk at the village market? and the way i had rushed there so that i can laugh– at your sense of humor of course, am sure you would not have missed humoring all those ladies who showed up. Enyewe, pole sana and quick recovery.

  80. Hilarious, it’s great to see the funny side of things. Hospitals are boring and being sick just doesn’t go down well with our plans…even uncle Barry can wait! And yes, we had to add weaves in there!

  81. I really get the guy thing where we see sickness as an inconvenience and shun from doctors for we don’t want to appear weak. Plus, hospitals are boring and being sick just doesn’t go down well with our plans…even uncle Barry can wait! And yes, we had to add weaves in there!

  82. Google is like dating a girl who writes you five long continues
    SMSs when she is mad at you and naming them, “part one, part two..”
    Hahahaha

    I like how you make comedy off of anything. It’s inspiring!

  83. you”ve given Gabby material. may your next check up be full of nurses with weaves and may they tell you to touch the weave for healing…..

  84. I wish you a quick recovery and honestly the clot Jokes really cracked me up. And God telling Angel Gabby to go easy on you… Lol, Biko, i love your sense of humor.

  85. Biko I never comment on yo kickass stories bt i guess theres always a first time and life is too short to live it on the sidelines….dont u say :)#UgandanInLove#DoUHaveABrother…lolest.Apreciate the Amazing Writing

  86. Quite a vivid description of Ms Imelda,and yes avoid life threatening activities like running your fingers into em wigs..FUNNY!

  87. Hahaha! Biko you are silly.
    “Do they wake up in the middle of the night screaming, ‘ENZYME DEFICIENCY!!! ENZYME DEFICIENCY!!!’ “

  88. Such a great read.wanted more.Lesson: Kenyans have too many problems to care about yours…The clot made the turn? Hahahaha

  89. I was there at the Village market for that talk and was so bummed you weren’t there.Pole.And aki you missed out on a shopping trip ,i am SO sorry.Get well soon

  90. I started following your Saturday Nation column when i was a small boy. I’m so happy today to at last get your blog man. Check mine at guruwrote.wordpress.com. And well, comment.
    Nice article right there

  91. I am in the house recuperating after an illness and reading this piece made me laugh severally and guys here are looking at me like “arw you sure you are sick?”

    Hilarious, well presented and awesome.

    Hooked

  92. Yet again I have laughed secretly and loudly.
    What you do with A-Z is anything under the sun. Amazing!
    Random clicks and scrolls and it’s fresh on a leash, the new, the old.
    Gangwagon.