It started as “just fever.” Body pain. Weakness. Headaches that felt like someone was squeezing my skull. I thought it would pass. But it didn’t. It kept coming back. Again and again. Like a curse sitting on my name.
My home changed.
Before, I was the strong one. The organized one. The happy one. Suddenly I became the tired wife. The irritable mother. The woman always lying down.
Nights were the worst.
While everyone slept, I would be awake — sweating, shivering, my stomach cramping, my heart racing. I would turn from one side of the bed to the other, fighting pain and frustration. Sometimes I would just stare at the ceiling and cry quietly so my husband wouldn’t hear.
He tried to be patient. He really did.
But it was serious.
There’s only so much a man can understand when his wife is constantly weak, constantly in pain, constantly unavailable. I could see the worry in his eyes. I could see the frustration too. The hospital visits. The drugs. The injections. The lab tests. Over and over.
Nothing lasted.
For three years, my children watched their mother disappear slowly.
“Mommy, are you okay?” “Mommy, why are you always sleeping?” “Mommy, are you sick again?”
I missed school events. I missed family outings. I missed being present. Instead of cooking and laughing in the kitchen, I was on the bed counting tablets and praying for relief.
And the money…
So much money.
Hospital bills. Pharmacy bills. Herbal mixtures. Antibiotics. Injections. Different doctors.
Each time I had hope. Each time I was disappointed.
It felt like I was pouring money into a pit with no bottom.
I was exhausted — physically, emotionally, financially.
Then someone told me about Vivora.
To be honest, I didn’t even want to try again. I was tired of “solutions.” But something in me said, what if this is different?
I started taking it consistently.
Gradually… things changed.
The fever episodes reduced. The constant weakness eased. My sleep improved. My appetite came back. That heavy, drained feeling started lifting.
For the first time in years, I woke up without fear.
I began cooking again. Laughing again. Sitting at the dining table without feeling like I would collapse. My children stopped asking if I was sick. My husband started smiling at me the way he used to.
Peace returned to my home.
I’m not saying life became perfect overnight. But I finally felt like myself again. Strong. Present. Alive.
After three years of suffering, I found relief.
And the joy that typhoid stole from my family… I finally got it back.