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I still remember the day we lost my father. He had been battling prostate cancer for over six years. We sold what little we had, borrowed where we could, and fought alongside him until the very end. In 2016, he passed away. And though I stood beside my mother at the funeral, I knew part of her had died that day too.
Now, almost a decade later, she’s watching me fade in front of her eyes. Only this time, she’s older, more fragile, and in pain herself. I see the fear she tries to hide as I'm battling kidney disease yet again.
‘My mother's kindness was what saved me the first time...’
In 2018, I was 25—just beginning my journey as a teacher—when the diagnosis came: kidney failure. My body betrayed me. The fatigue, the swelling, the confusion—it all hit too quickly. My mother didn’t hesitate. She gave me her kidney. She was already in her 50s, but she simply said, “You’re my daughter. Of course I will.” That transplant in 2019 gave me back my life… at least for a while.It wasn’t easy—recovery was slow and painful—but I survived. I was alive. I was grateful. I returned to my job, started rebuilding. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. We had been through the worst… or so we thought. But in November 2023, I fell ill again. I experienced shortness of breath, swelling in my legs, constant fatigue. We rushed to R N Tagore Hospital in Kolkata. After 11 days, the doctors said the words we had hoped never to hear again: the kidney was failing.
'The job I loved, the sense of independence it gave me—all of it slipped away'
Doctors said the words again—“Kidney damaged.” I had reached Stage 5 chronic kidney disease. The transplant had given me four years, but now my body was shutting down again. I could hardly process the news—how could this happen a second time? On December 9th, I began dialysis. Since then, I’ve been going three times a week. Each session lasts hours and leaves me drained, sometimes unable to even get out of bed.
I was once a teacher. From 2020 to 2023, I taught at KE Carmel School in Sarisha—those were my best years. The classroom gave me energy; my students gave me purpose. I felt like I was rebuilding my life. But when my health declined, I had no choice but to resign. Now, instead of preparing lessons and grading papers, my days revolve around hospital visits, test results, and the uncertainty of what comes next.
‘My mother can barely walk now. But she’s still the one carrying me’
As if watching me go through this wasn’t enough, my mother now struggles with severe arthritis. Some mornings, she can’t even hold a cup of tea. Yet she still helps me bathe, cooks my meals, and walks slowly beside me on hospital days.She gave me life twice. Once when I was born, and once when she gave me her kidney. But I see her aging faster now. I see the toll it’s taking. And I can’t help but feel guilty that she has to carry this burden again.
‘I want a chance to restart life – won't you help me?’
We’ve spent ₹40 lakhs—everything we had, and more. Over the last seven years, between my father’s cancer treatment, my transplant, hospital stays, medications, and countless follow-ups, we’ve exhausted every resource. Our savings are gone. We’ve borrowed from friends, knocked on every door we could. And now, even the ₹30,000 we need each month for dialysis, tests, injections, and medicines feels out of reach. Some weeks we delay blood work. Sometimes we skip medication. Every rupee we don’t have costs me a piece of my health.My doctors have now said I need a second transplant—my only real chance at living a full life again. A family friend has offered to donate a kidney, which feels like a blessing in the middle of all this darkness. But the surgery and post-operative care will cost ₹15 lakhs. And we have no way to afford it. But I want to live—not just for myself, but for my mother, who has already lost so much. I want to walk again without help. I want to return to the classroom. I want to feel like I belong to life again. Please help me get this transplant.
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EIN 20-5139364
