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It began like a common malaria fever- chills, body weakness, and fatigue. But within days, a persistent cough developed. At first, it was mild, something I could manage. Then it grew worse, each cough bringing up blood. Fear gripped me. For the first time, death felt like a real possibility.
With no money for a proper medical check-up, I visited a local chemist who prescribed some tablets. Instead of improving, my condition worsened. I stopped the medication, confused and desperate. Rumors spread, some said it was tuberculosis, but I refused to believe it. Though fear lingered, I held onto hope.
This was in 2023, the same year my brother Abel and I co-founded a robotics company. Our startup focused on building smart home devices and teaching robotics in schools. The demand was high, students were eager, parents were supportive, and our training sessions were always full. Abel, a brilliant technician, handled product development while I managed marketing and business operations. I also taught digital marketing under our brand. Everything was falling into place until illness struck.
After weeks of suffering, I was diagnosed with bronchiectasis, a chronic lung condition where the airways widen and fill with mucus, leading to persistent infections and coughing up blood. No treatment seemed to work. My strength faded. Simple tasks became impossible. I could no longer work, and our company began to crumble.
Abel, still a student, couldn’t shoulder the burden alone. Between his academic responsibilities and the business demands, something had to give. Reluctantly, we laid off our staff and halted training sessions. We redirected our remaining funds to my treatment, believing that without health, nothing else mattered. Our production wing went dormant, and the robotics classes ceased, we couldn’t even afford transportation for our team or the kits needed for training.
Determined to survive, I returned to the hospital for proper treatment. I followed every prescription, but progress was slow. Then, Abel brought a pastor to pray for me. For seven days, the pastor came. By the third day, the blood stopped. By the seventh, I was healed. I could walk, eat, and laugh again. It was nothing short of a miracle.
Yet, the aftermath was painful. Our company, once thriving, now struggles to regain its footing. The financial strain was immense, and rebuilding feels like an uphill battle. But if there’s one thing this ordeal taught me, it’s resilience. Just as my body fought and recovered, I believe our business will rise again.
This experience reshaped my perspective on health, faith, and perseverance. This sickness nearly took my life, but it also revealed the strength within me. Now, with renewed hope, I move forward, trusting that just as healing came, success will follow.
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@ritaetim