My name is Ramesh, and my heart sinks every time my phone rings; too often, it’s from my children’s school. Sometimes it’s their teacher, and sometimes it’s one of the kids themselves: panicked, shaking, desperate. “Daddy, my nose is bleeding again. Where are you?”. Whenever that happens, I drop everything and run. There’s never time to waste in moments like these. If I’m even a few minutes late, the blood loss could be too much. And what makes it worse… what makes it unbearable… is knowing there’s no one else they can call. Their mother left us years ago. I’ve been alone in this fight ever since.

I was the happiest man in the world back then. I didn’t know our lives would turn into a series of hospitals, needles, and fear. First came fevers; relentless ones that didn’t go away. Then doctors discovered hypertension in my daughter. Her nerves were under pressure, and they rushed us to the ICU. We spent weeks in different hospitals, and each place gave us a different answer. It wasn’t until one of the hospitals sent her blood samples to Mumbai that the truth came out: Fanconi anemia. A rare disease that slowly breaks down the bone marrow. They said it affects everything: her immunity, growth, even organs. When they found it in my daughter, they tested my son too. I prayed he'd be spared. But his results came back just as bad.

She couldn’t handle the stress, maybe. Or the sadness, or maybe the responsibility. She walked out and never looked back. Since then, I’ve done everything alone: being their father, mother, caretaker, and nurse. I go to work as a daily wager in construction during the day and care for them every other moment. I make 10k INR a month, and somehow that has to cover rent, food, medicine, and emergencies. There’s no backup. No insurance. No relatives helping. When one of the kids bleeds, I rush. When they catch a fever, I spend nights on hospital floors. I still remember one day when I was just a little late… my son had blood all over his clothes by the time I got there.

Doctors have told me the same thing, again and again, that both children need a bone marrow transplant. They’re nearing their last stage, they said. The final one. There’s hope, though, because I got tested and even though I’m only a half-match, I’ve been cleared to donate to both of them. I am their only viable donor. It’s the one thing I can give them that no one else can, but I can’t afford the cost. I’ve already borrowed up to ₹10 lakh over the years, just to keep them alive this long. There’s nothing left to sell except my soul.

I’ve been begging everybody I meet for help, while my children are slipping away. They both try to stay strong for me. Sometimes they borrow their teacher’s phone just to ask if I’ve eaten. At night, they see the worry on my face and wipe my tears. “Why are you crying, Daddy? We’re okay. Don’t be scared,” they say. But I am scared. Every single day. I don't sleep. I barely breathe. And all I can think is: what if I lose them?

Even now, they try to live like normal kids, but they aren’t. They live in pain, bleed without warning, and face the kind of danger no child should ever face. They need urgent treatment, they need a transplant, but I can't do this alone anymore. I’m begging you: please help me save them. I can give them my blood, my marrow, even my life if needed. But I can’t give them the money it takes to survive. You are my only hope now.