11 #1.8 EARLY COVID-19 TREATMENT – PROOF Testimonial for Dr Ellapen ‘Robert’ Rapiti I understood their position—they were under immense pressure, working impossible hours, making heartbreaking decisions. But I couldn’t sit at home, knowing he was dying alone. He messaged me: he couldn’t walk to the bathroom. When he asked a nurse for help, she refused. Another nurse entered, dumped a plastic basin and washcloth on the table, and told him to wash himself. He was incapable of even sitting upright. He went an entire day without food. That evening, a Marmite sandwich and cold tea were left at the far end of his bed—out of reach. He had no strength to get to them. Medication was brought in a grimy old bottle lid. When he asked what it was, he was told, “Just take it.” Not once was he seen by a doctor during his time in the COVID ward. Nurses handed him pills. His room echoed with chilling apathy. He told me patients around him were dying hourly. Staff casually shouted over the beds, “Bring another body bag.” The atmosphere was devoid of compassion. Out of desperation, my father messaged me about a doctor he’d read about in the newspaper—Dr E. V. Rapiti . He asked me to contact him, in hopes there might be another way. I had never met this doctor. I doubted he would reply—we weren’t his patients, and the Delta wave was overwhelming everyone. Still, I sent a WhatsApp message early that evening explaining our situation. Within an hour, he responded. Testimonial, part I – A Daughter’s Fight for Her Father’s Life In August 2021, my father fell ill. As my parents were not on medical aid, I took him to their nearest hospital—Karl Bremer—where he was diagnosed with COVID pneumonia. At that stage, the Delta variant was raging across the country. People of all ages, health profiles, and backgrounds were succumbing to this terrible illness. Due to strict COVID regulations, neither my mother nor I were allowed inside the hospital. We managed to speak to the treating doctor over the phone, who confirmed the diagnosis and explained that my father, then 71 years old and battling COPD, had a poor prognosis. He would be transferred to the COVID ward for further treatment. Security told us we could wave to him from the hospital entrance as they moved him. When we saw him being wheeled toward the elevator, oxygen mask strapped to his face, an overwhelming wave of emotion hit us. My mother, my father, and I broke down in tears, realizing this might be the last time we ever saw him. We weren’t even allowed to hug or kiss him goodbye. The staff gave us no time. As the elevator doors opened, he was taken inside. I shouted for him to fight as hard as he could. He nodded. My mother and I stood in the foyer, crying, clinging to one another. We thought it was the beginning of the end. We managed to speak to him via WhatsApp whenever he had the strength. The COVID ward rarely answered the phone, but when they did, staff told us: “He is doing good.” But the truth was far from that. The doctor informed me that the ward was over capacity. Given my father's severe COVID pneumonia, his age, and his COPD, they had to focus attention on patients with better chances of survival. © The Nutrition Network - 2025