Sejal's Kidney Transplant Fund

Hello. My name is Sejal Jobanputra. I’m a 35 year old woman from Mumbai in India and I need a kidney to save my life.

Here’s a little about my situation:

I come from a once well-to-do family. My Dad had a small firm that would export custom-made bedsheets to hospitals around the world. It was a happy and protected life.

But things rapidly went downhill in Dad’s business and he wasn’t able to handle the pressure and got into debt.

In 2003, both my kidneys failed and my sister donated a kidney to me.

In 2004 we had to sell off virtually everything we owned to clear our debts. We literally went from an 8-bedroom home in the city to a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a far suburb.

This shock was a huge blow to Mom, and she passed away within 3 weeks of us moving home due to multiple organ failure. She was already unwell and I guess the stress of losing and leaving home was something she couldn’t take. I have two older sisters who live closeby who are busy with their lives.

After Mom died, Dad and I lived for each other.

My transplant started giving trouble. The medication to make it work was quite expensive and we just didn’t have the money. Dad and I made a few attempts to raise money, but we failed. I tried every kind of anti-rejection medicine, but had to stop as we ran out of cash. In 2007, my transplanted kidney gave up.

I then got back on dialysis. The doctors then suggested a second kidney transplant, with my Dad being the donor. Apparently our tissue types were a perfect match.

But we just didn’t have the funds for the surgery right away. We worked hard, and over 4 months were able to raise funds – but during this time, my Dad’s health deteriorated under all this stress to the point it was medically impossible for him to be a donor.

By now I had tubes in my neck, tubes in my chest and tubes under my ears. I would cover it all up with a scarf and try to go with Dad from pillar to post looking for money.

I registered myself on the wait list to get a kidney in 2007. Several of my friends offered to donate theirs. But Mumbai and Maharashtra have strange laws that do not make it easy for non-relatives to donate a kidney to you when they’re alive. (This is for fear that they may be selling their kidneys to you – it is strange how the law is set up to stop a few crimes but it stops a lot of good too.)

I had no other direct blood relatives to get a kidney from – so I was put on the last category – the list of people waiting for kidneys from accidents or other cases where the donors suddenly got brain-dead and their tissues also happened to be a perfect match. Eight years later, I'm still waiting, nothing has happened on that list, yet.

Back to 2008. We kept getting advised that one choice was that we could wait for Dad to recover till he became healthy enough again to give me his kidney. But the money was running out. There was the dialysis to pay for, a home to run, food to cook. Often Dad and me had no money for meals.

Then, as a side-effect of the high dose of antibiotics I was taking to control the infection around the tubes in my body, I became deaf. Permanently and irreversibly deaf.

Dad was in severe depression and as was I. I tried to still keep a bright outlook through these times. Not many of my friends had an idea what I was going through.

April 15, 2008 was a terrible day. My wonderful, wonderful Dad jumped into the water tank in our building and committed suicide. His last message for me was “You are my fighter, don’t give up.”

Here I am, seven years later, and I’m not giving up.

Things are difficult. I live alone, and work from home. I make just about enough to pay for dialysis, rent and food. 

I can get a cochlear implant to hear again, but that’s not a priority for me right now, especially as I’m quite broke.

I’d like to get a working kidney first. My friends are ready to see if their kidneys can tissue-match for me, but I understand from helpful doctors that I will probably need to get the procedure done in the state of Kerala instead of Mumbai, because the laws there are a little more friendly to patients like me.

But I am informed the procedure will cost Rs. 12 lakhs (around US$19,000) and I’ve been told the post-operative care will cost another Rs. 4 lakhs ($6,500). This adds up to $25,500. GoFundMe charges fees totalling 8%, so I need to actually raise $27,500 in order to get $25,500 to pay for the procedures.

I’ve been trying everything, and now I’m trying this online donation method too. So far, as of April 28, I’ve raised about 13% or 1/8th of the amount I need. Some anonymous donor gave $1,500. Wow – and a big thank you! Some of you gave even $50. Thank you too, just as much! Every little bit helps me.

I really appreciate if you can spare a little. Even if you can’t, I’d appreciate your blessings and request you to share this with others on your Facebook and Twitter accounts, or via email with your friends and colleagues.

I send this message out to all of you out there. I’m trying to be the fighter Dad asked me to be. But a little help from you can make it easier.

I want to win this battle. I’ve been fighting it for 12 years now, since I was 23.

Maybe this time, with all of you on my side, I have a better chance.

Thank you so very much!


Sejal Jobanputra