CTEPH Journey: spreading awareness with Alice kirush

Dear me
Happy Mother’s Day to you, beautiful mama.
Today, I want you to celebrate the mother you are — with all your heart.
At just 32, you lost your womb after bringing two precious children into this world. Even in that pain, you chose gratitude. You thank God every day for the gift of motherhood, and that alone shows the depth of your heart. Not every woman gets the chance to carry, birth, and love her own babies — but you did. You became a mother, and no one can ever take that away from you.
Right now, it’s hard. Leaving your children in the care of your sister while you fight for your life in Israel has not been easy. The distance aches. The separation tests your strength daily. Yet even from miles away, you continue to mother them — through prayers, calls, love notes, and the quiet strength you send across the oceans. That is powerful, resilient motherhood, and I am so proud of you for it.
I also celebrate the miracles unfolding in your body. After struggling with breathlessness for so long, you are now tasting the freedom of breathing again. Every easier breath is a gift. Every day you wake up with a little more strength is proof that God is not done with you.
You are a warrior. A fighter. A woman of deep faith and unshakable love. You have survived death, palliative care, and impossible odds. And through it all, you have loved your children fiercely.
On this Mother’s Day, be gentle with yourself. Honor the mother you are — the one who refuses to give up, the one who mothers from afar, the one who keeps hoping even when it’s hard. Total healing is coming. You are already on the way.
Thank you for never quitting. Thank you for choosing life. Thank you for being their mom.
I love you. I admire you. I celebrate you today and always.
With all my love and deepest pride,
Yourself ❤️

LETS GIVE THANKS TO GOD FOR PROVISION OF BASIC NEEDS

Heavenly Father,
I come before You with a heart overflowing with gratitude. Thank You for Your faithful provision of all my basic needs. You have given me food to eat, clean water to drink, clothes to wear, and a place to rest my head. Even when I have worried or felt uncertain, You have never forsaken me.
Thank You for being my Shepherd, so that I lack nothing (Psalm 23:1). Thank You that You know exactly what I need before I even ask, and that as I seek Your kingdom first, You supply all my needs according to the riches of Your glory in Christ Jesus (Matthew 6:33, Philippians 4:19).
I am grateful for every meal, every roof over my head, every moment of health and strength, and every act of kindness from others that You have used to care for me. Forgive me for the times I have taken these blessings for granted or focused on what I don’t have instead of what You have so generously provided.
Help me to trust You more deeply, to live with contentment, and to share the blessings You’ve given me with those in need. May my life reflect continual thankfulness to You.
In the name of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Provider, I pray.
Amen.

Hi
My name is Alice Wanjiku Kirumba
If you’ve been following my journey, thank you for being here with me again.
I know the page has been quiet for a while… but I’m back, and I want to continue sharing my story honestly.
Living with CTEPH has changed a lot in my life.
There was a time when even simple things—like showering or walking short distances—felt incredibly hard.
But I’ve also experienced progress I’m truly grateful for.
I can now walk further, breathe better, and I don’t rely on oxygen anymore.
Those changes may seem small, but to me they are everything 🤍
And through it all… the one thing that keeps me going is what I’m working towards.
I’m currently preparing for my third balloon angioplasty procedure in July in Israel.
This treatment is another step in my journey to keep improving my breathing and my strength.
But beyond the treatment itself…
what I’m really fighting for is simple.
To be well again.
To be strong again.
And to be able to fully return to my life and my loved ones with more energy and freedom than before 🤍
I’m still on this journey, and I truly can’t do it alone.
If you’re able to support me in any way, I would be deeply grateful.
And if not, even sharing this means so much to me.
Thank you for walking with me again 🤍
You can channel your contribution via:
1.⁠ ⁠M-PESA
Payment Steps:
1.⁠ ⁠Go to Lipa na M-PESA and select Paybill.
2.⁠ ⁠Enter Business No: 542 542
3.⁠ ⁠Enter Account No: 257 199
4.⁠ ⁠Enter Amount and confirm with your PIN.
5. Alice wanjiku medical appeal

2.⁠ ⁠Mchanga

ALICE WANJIKU MEDICAL APPEAL | M-Changa Together, we can make a difference. Please donate and spread the word to make ALICE WANJIKU MEDICAL APPEAL a success. Thank you for your support!

My CTEPH Journey So Far
There was a time when every morning I woke up with one simple, desperate wish: to feel normal again.
To be free from this condition called CTEPH.
To breathe without struggling.
To walk without the constant fatigue weighing me down.
To be free from the pain in my leg that reminded me daily of the DVT.
Most of all, I wanted to dance with my daughter, play with my son, and move around with them without feeling like my body was holding me back. Those moments felt like distant dreams.
But today, after two BPA surgeries, I can honestly say — I’m starting to live that life.
I’m not where I ultimately want to be yet. There are still two more surgeries ahead, and some days are harder than others. But I am somewhere. Somewhere better. Somewhere filled with gratitude to God for every small improvement, every easier breath, and every bit of strength returning.
I long for the day when this chapter is fully behind me — when I can run back to my children, take those walks in the mall, dance freely, and create new memories without limits. I hold onto that vision every day.
If you’re reading this and you’re in the thick of it — feeling exhausted, scared, or wondering if things will ever get better — please know there is hope.
Treatments like BPA (and other options) are giving people real chances to reclaim their lives. Progress may come step by step, surgery by surgery, but even small steps forward are victories worth celebrating. You are not alone. Keep holding on, keep advocating for yourself, and trust that brighter days are possible.
I’m living proof that somewhere can slowly become somewhere beautiful.
Sending strength, faith, and warm hugs to every warrior fighting CTEPH right now.
We’ve got this — one breath, one day, one surgery at a time. ❤️

Progress journey

Yesterday, I underwent my second balloon angioplasty — in a protected shelter setting, as I continue navigating treatment in the middle of an uncertain and challenging time 🙏🏽
This journey hasn’t just been about my health. It’s been about adapting, staying strong, and choosing hope even when circumstances are far from normal.
Lying there, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much this journey has asked of me — physically, emotionally, and mentally… and yet, how far I’ve come 🤍
This procedure is a big step forward, but my healing journey is not complete yet. I still need more procedures to fully recover, and each one costs Ksh 2,000,000.
I’m deeply grateful for every prayer, every message, and every contribution that has brought me this far. And I’m still asking for your support — to help me continue this journey to healing.
Brighter days are ahead… I just need a little more help to get there 🤍

On the outskirts of Tel Aviv, in Ramat Gan, stands a medical city that rarely sleeps.

The campus of Chaim Sheba Medical Center stretches across what was once a military base. Its history is woven into the story of a young nation finding its footing after 1948. What began near military barracks evolved into something far larger: a civilian medical center serving millions.

Today, ambulances pass through its gates carrying heart attack patients, newborns fighting for life, cancer patients in treatment, and soldiers wounded in conflict.

Inside its wards, the boundaries blur between civilian and military care. The hospital works alongside the Israel Defense Forces, particularly in trauma and rehabilitation. Yet its identity remains civilian, governed by the Israel Ministry of Health.

In one building, surgeons perform complex cardiac procedures. In another, children receive cancer treatment at the Safra Children’s Hospital. Across the campus, rehabilitation teams guide patients learning to walk again after spinal injuries.

It is also a place of research and experimentation. Through its academic partnership with Tel Aviv University, young doctors train, researchers test new technologies, and digital health innovators attempt to reshape modern medicine.

To some, Sheba represents medical excellence. To others, it symbolizes Israel’s infrastructure of emergency readiness. To many patients, it is simply the place where life was saved.

Hospitals often reflect the societies that build them. Sheba reflects a nation shaped by both civilian needs and security realities, balancing healthcare, research, and preparedness within one vast campus.

And every day, beyond politics and policy, it remains what it was built to be: a hospital where people come seeking healing. One of them being me seeking treatment for CTEPH.