My name is James, and I’m writing this with a heart full of fear, love, and hope for my partner, Kafair.

If you’ve ever met her, you’ll understand why it feels so impossible to be writing something like this. Kafair is one of those rare beautiful souls, like a real life Snow White. She moves through the world with kindness, healing animals, people, and hearts without ever drawing attention to it. She’s a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and the kind of person who makes the world feel safe just by being in it.

At just 23 years old, Kafair has been diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of thyroid cancer. What started as a lump in her neck last year quickly turned into something far more frightening. After months of travelling between hospitals, undergoing painful biopsies, and chasing answers in a medical system that often moves too slowly for the poor, we finally got the diagnosis. By the time she was wheeled into surgery in early April 2024, the cancer had already begun to spread, and we were told it was already Stage 4.

The type of cancer Kafair has is rare and aggressive, and it can’t be treated just anywhere. It requires specialist care, advanced treatments, and a team experienced in handling complex, late-stage cases. That’s why every step, every appointment, scan, and treatment has to happen in major hospitals, often far from home, and always at high cost.

The operation was supposed to take one hour. It lasted four.

The surgeon, a top specialist in Bangkok, told us afterwards it was one of the most advanced cases they had seen. They had to remove her entire thyroid and surrounding lymph nodes in an emergency procedure. We hoped that would be the end. But just weeks later, scans showed something we weren’t prepared for: the cancer had already reached her lungs.

Within two months of surgery, nearly 100% of her lungs were affected by metastases.

She was rushed into a course of radioactive iodine therapy - a brutal treatment that left her isolated and vulnerable. While she could technically be around others, she wasn’t allowed near her son or grandmother for four weeks. On top of everything, the surgery and treatment damaged her body in irreversible ways. She now lives with a lifelong hormone imbalance and will be dependent on medication and regular monitoring for the rest of her life.

Because Kafair didn’t have insurance before her diagnosis, no insurer would cover her after. We had to pay for everything – surgery, tests, travel, childcare – out of pocket. The surgery cost around 400,000 THB (around £8,500), and that was just the beginning. Her family poured in everything they had. We borrowed. We sold what we could. But eventually, the money ran out.

By high season, the only time people in Pai can reliably earn, Kafair was still sick and recovering from treatment, but went back to work. She was doing 10+ hour days while managing exhaustion, hormone crashes, and the lingering effects of cancer that had never truly gone away, just to help pay the bills. Her mother tried to sell their family business. Everyone around her gave what they could, quietly, and with so much love. But it still wasn’t enough.

And then came the smoke season.. February to April. At this time, we knew the cancer had spread to her lungs. But still, Kafair had no choice but to stay. She had to work, had to survive. So she endured day after day of polluted, choking air that posed a direct threat to her already damaged lungs.

And now, the cancer is growing again.

Doctors have told us that if the next steps (surgery and follow-up treatment) are not started very soon, chemotherapy may be the only option left. And once we reach that stage, her chances of long-term survival drop significantly. The toll on her body and quality of life would be immense.

A new lump appeared on her neck earlier this year, and recent scans and biopsies confirmed what we feared: the cancer is back and spreading quickly, less than a year after her first course of radiotherapy. Her doctors have urgently recommended another surgery, which is now scheduled for this Sunday. After that, a new treatment plan will be made, either radiotherapy, chemotherapy, or possibly both, depending on how her body responds. These next steps are critical. But they are also expensive.

Thanks to the generosity of friends, our own fundraising efforts, and a donation from the leftover funds of someone else’s medical fundraiser, we’ve managed to raise enough to cover her surgery this Sunday.

But all the other costs, medication, recovery, travel to and from Bangkok, hospital stays, and whatever treatment comes next, are still far beyond our reach. We have no idea yet what the second round of treatment will cost. But we know none of it can be delayed.

We’ve exhausted every resource. We’ve done everything we possibly can. And now, I’m asking for help on behalf of Kafair, her family, her friends, and myself - not only as her partner, but as someone who cannot imagine this world without her in it.

Kafair is not just her diagnosis. She is a mother to a beautiful four-year-old boy who adores her. She is an aunt who cares deeply for two beautiful nieces. She’s the one who rescues birds from the roadside, helps injured dogs, and brings tea to sick neighbours, often at the expense of her comfort. She never asks for anything. And yet, she’s given everything to everyone.

I am asking on her behalf now.

We are trying to raise £15,000 to cover Kafair’s next course of treatment, any additional surgery that may be needed, post-op medication and recovery, travel to and from Bangkok, and the childcare she’ll need while she is in isolation again. Every donation, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to saving her life. Every share of this fundraiser might be the one that reaches someone who can help.

Please, if you’re reading this, help us save her. Help us give her the chance not just to survive, but to grow old with her son, to keep spreading love wherever she goes, to wake up and not wonder what horrors she has to go through next.

She deserves that. She deserves so much more.

With love and all the hope we have left,

James, Kafair, & Leo