We pray for the recovery of our beloved brother warrior, Jitu Weusi. In our last visit to New York, we spoke with him on the phone. He was in the hospital but holding onto the rope of life.
--Marvin X
Dear Family/Community, For those of you who may not have seen this posting on facebook by Nandi, Bro. Jitu's daughter.... Thank you for posting it, Nandi. We encircle Bro. Jitu and your/our family with prayers for his continued recovery.
You can send positive thoughts and wishes for wellness to Bro. Jitu at jweusi@aol.com. He will also get the messages sent via his wife, Angela, at aweusi@gmail.com
This article was published by Our Time Press http://ourtimepress.com/2013/04/06/jitu-weusis-journey-in-this-journal-message-to-the-communitythe-education-activist-relates-his-biggest-struggle-ever/
Jitu Weusi’s Journey: In this Journal Message to the Community,the Education Activist Relates his Biggest Struggle Ever
- Saturday, April 6, 2013, 8:57
Jitu Weusi
Looking back to December 3, 2012 when I went for a routine doctor’s visit with my physician of 29 years, Dr. Oliver Fine, I would not have thought that three months later I would be incapacitated fighting my biggest struggle ever – to stay alive. The day after that visit I received an alarming call from Dr. Fine urging me to visit the colonoscopy specialist because I was experiencing a precipitous drop in red blood cells. I was anemic. Later, I underwent two exams: a colonoscopy and an endoscopy, both were very invasive procedures.
Subsequently, I was urged to do another exam, which required that I swallow a camera scope to obtain images of my intestinal tract. All of these tests were proactive attempts to diagnose the cause of the red blood cell loss, all to no avail.
Shortly after the camera-swallowing test (I remember it was December 10th because Kenny Gates performed at For My Sweet’s Jazzy Mondays), something strange happened. For about three minutes the right side of my brain felt sizzling-hot like an egg frying, and my hand and right eye were moving uncontrollably. It occurred while I was alone.
Although concerned and alarmed I chose to keep this incident to myself.
A month later, on Tuesday, January 15th , I experienced the same symptoms for a longer period of time. This too, I kept to myself. However, the very next day, I had yet another episode while in the presence of my eldest son, Kuzaliwa Kojo Campbell, and my wife, Angela. I was escorted home and immediately thereafter persuaded to go to the hospital. I was later told it was a seizure.
On Wednesday, January 16, 2013 at approximately 11:47PM I was taken – at my request– to the emergency room of the Cornell New York Presbyterian Hospital at 70th and York Avenues on the Upper East Side of Manhattan of which Dr.
Fine has affiliation.
After arriving and providing staff with a recent history of events, examinations began immediately. The staff conducted a CT scan of the head and a chest X-ray. While waiting for the results, I took notice of my surroundings for the first time. I observed a scene straight out of an episode of MASH. All around me were people—hospital staff and patients alike. Space was limited; there were beds in the hallways and the family waiting areas were transformed into makeshift rooms. The hospital was severely impacted after Hurricane Sandy hit, closing two other NY hospitals. It would be days before I would be assigned a bed.
A Mass in Brain Detected
At 2:45AM, reports from the first tests returned – a mass was detected on the right frontal lobe of my brain which was causing the seizures. Also, a large mass was seen on my lung. In the next few days, while still in the emergency room, I underwent more tests, which served to produce more questions. More CT scans were taken of my abdomen and pelvis as cancer was being speculated but the specific type of cancer was unknown. Cancer. “The Big C”.
This was a surprise to me. I was not in pain. How could I possibly have cancer? The hospital had their team of doctors that attended to me going forward. They started me on the drug Keppra to control the seizure activity. They arranged for a biopsy of the lung mass. The results were conclusive. The results were surprising. The results confirmed that which was mere speculation the day before. Malignant. Cancer.
Family Team Formed, Message to Community Drafted
The next morning, a team of doctors who reported to Dr. Fine gave me a complete analysis along with their suggestion as to a path to healing. My family (on the ground with me) included my wife Angela Weusi, Dr. Damali Campbell, Kweli Campbell and Kojo Campbell. They would form a team to help with the analysis and help answer any questions that I had. The additional tests that were taken revealed additional masses on the right hip and the kidney. The diagnosis was that I had advanced stages of kidney cancer that had metastasized to the brain, lung and my right hip. A message was drafted to send out to the family and community as to the diagnosis at the time.
The first decision I had to make following my diagnosis was to find an oncologist. Dr. Fine recommended Dr. Nannus, an oncologist who specializes in cancer of the kidney. Having been his patient for 29 years, I trusted his opinion. After consulting with a neurosurgery team, Dr. Nannus recommended that the first course of action was to remove the tumor on the brain because tumors on the brain don’t typically respond well to chemotherapy. The neurosurgeon, Dr. Schwartz, consulted with me and my family about performing brain surgery. Brain surgery! He claimed that if there was only one tumor near the surface of the brain, then its removal would be easy. Brain surgery—easy?! The neurosurgeon hypothesized that if surgery was done to remove the lesion on the right side of brain and if it was successful, it could slow the spread of the cancer to the other organs. Brain surgery. At this point I needed a moment. I needed to think. This was a lot to understand. I needed guidance. I spoke with my 86-year-old godmother and best friend of my deceased mother, Alma Carroll, who told me that I should go ahead and do what the doctors suggested because everything would be on my side. Hearing this is what I needed to make the decision to move forward and to get through the hurdle before me.
Soon after testing was done in the PET scan lab and MRI and all was approved for the surgery, I was taken to surgery at about 4PM in the evening. The last thing I remember was the head nurse explaining to me the effects of the anesthesia she was giving to me. She told me to relax and enjoy myself. Shortly thereafter, I was in dreamland. It was about 1:30AM the next morning when I awoke with a headache, feeling like I had a hole in my head. My wife was beside me. I squeezed her hand and told her that I had a headache. She called for the head nurse in the Neurosurgery ICU recovering room to come and deliver pain medication for the throbbing headache I was experiencing.
The drug of the day was Percocet, which allowed me to sleep
to the next morning.
Difficult Adjustments
I was told the following day that the surgery went well, and for a moment I felt like a rock star with a cult following, as various doctors and other medical staff routinely came around to ensure that my post-op experience was going along well. This feeling would soon fade as I began to understand the extent of the surgery. One of the earliest experiences was a complete loss of bathroom functioning. Bathroom functioning! Because the procedure was to the brain, the mobility of my legs and arms was affected. If I can’t move my legs, I can’t walk to the bathroom; something I didn’t bargain for. I became completely dependent on someone else to change my diaper at least a half-dozen times a day. Initially, I was constipated so my embarrassment went undetected. But four days later, I had a breakthrough and suddenly there was an outpouring of stool. While overjoyed for the intestinal evacuation, I was embarrassed and upset by my inability to better control the situation or participate in the cleanup.
It is needless to say that my stay at the hospital was a difficult adjustment. I rarely got any rest; there was a constant stream of medical staff coming to my room at all hours of the night and day to meddle in my medical business— drawing blood, checking my blood pressure and sugar levels, and giving me some kind of injection or another. Most were competent, getting it right on the first try; more than a few were not so competent—rendering my right hand to a most painful but legal form of abuse. A drug regimen began and was now in full swing: steroids to reduce brain swelling which causes blood sugar instability; Insulin to control the blood sugar instability; keppra for the seizure activity; a blood transfusion was needed on several occasions. Physical therapy would be needed to move again and a walker would be needed to preserve the strength of my hip which is weak and a fall could mean a hip fracture.
My wife, my children, a rock of support
During this crisis my spirit was bolstered by midnight visits from my sons, Toure and Kojo. It was refreshing to open my eyes at midnight to see Kojo reading over his lesson plans or Toure with insomnia cookies in hand. My daughter Kweli took some time off from work and would read the NY Times so I could keep abreast of such issues as Obama’s battle with Congress, Hugo Chavez’ health (now deceased) and updates on the Nets and Knicks.
I spent very little time alone as my wife was at the hospital daily giving me solace and confidence to deal with all the machinations as we dealt with modern medicine in a big hospital. We would often lament about how medicine today operates on a factory-type model (system with various pieces to carry out order and assignments: many employees, doctors, doctor assistants, nurses, nurse’s aides, technicians, janitors, transporters, etc.). Over a period of six weeks, I could identify hundreds of jobs that would be available for people to work in a comprehensive medical center or hospital.
During this time I had visits from all my children who live in other states: Nandi Campbell, Makini Campbell, Taifa Graves and Hazina Campbell-Dorius. They all came in at various times to attend to my health and well-being. My sister Shirley Clarke came in from California and showered me with attention. I had weekly visits from my brother and his wife, Job and Muslimah Mashariki. Visits from concerned nephews and nieces also served as a source of comfort.
Condition stabilized, Chemotherapy commences
Once my medical condition was stabilized, the medical team transferred me to the Baker Pavilion wing of the hospital where I would receive intensive physical therapy 4 hours a day, five days a week. The occupation and physical therapists managed to get me out of bed and into a wheelchair every day, helping me to regain some of the basic functions I had lost after the surgery. Meanwhile, I was given a battery of tests such as X-rays, eye exams and other specialty tests for eye, nose and ears. My medical team advised that I start receiving radiation treatments for the brain and begin an intravenous form of chemo once a week. The radiation treatments were an experience I struggled heavily with as it required the most discipline. I was prescribed 3 sessions of radiation treatment to my brain where the mass was removed and 3 more to another area where an earlier test discovered a small mass. The procedure called for me to be fitted for a device that would allow the technicians to get radiation to a targeted area in my brain. I had to be strapped down with my head stationary while they zapped my brain.
The chemotherapy is to slow down the progression of the cancer in all areas of my body. While I have been told that I am holding up surprisingly well for a chemo patient, I have struggled at times. After my second week of chemotherapy I experienced fever and chills. It was discovered that this reaction was a result of a urinary tract infection (UTI), which was qualitatively the worst pain I had experienced since arriving at the hospital. On the night of the 23rd, I awoke no less than 20x crying in pain from the burning that accompanied my urination. The next day, because of my persistence, I was moved to a floor that specialized in infectious disease— fifth-floor MASH unit. They employed a team of nurses to analyze and treat the problem. In order to cure the UTI, I had to undergo a series of tests to identify the type of infection and proper treatment. Here, I received more effective antibiotics.
My UTI soon went away.
Not cured, but strong
This has been a difficult ordeal, fraught with lows and lower lows. I have been faced with difficult decisions regarding treatment options. I have had to confront head-on the aftermath of brain surgery and the debilitation that follows.
Since my arrival in the hospital I have had to daily engage in a battle, a war, against cancer. It may have temporarily taken away my ability to stand and walk to the bathroom on my own, but it has not taken away my resolve to fight. And each battle that I have faced, I have not faced alone. My family has been a constant source of support and companionship, giving me strength to face each battle head-on. I have also been blessed with home-cooked meals from my daughter-in-law Debbie Campbell and my daughter Dr. Damali Campbell that greatly aided in my food consumption and kept me strong during the chemotherapy.
I am not cured, but I am feeling stronger. I don’t know how many days I have remaining in this life. I feel great and have no pains at the current moment.
Outpourings of Love
I thank God. I thank my entire family, 8 children, 12 grandchildren, my wife and friends and relatives for the support given to me in making this journey possible.
I am thankful for the many calls, letters of concern, words of encouragement and overall outpouring of love.
