Dear compassionate souls,
I come to you today with a heart full of pain, humility, and a desperate hope that there are still kind people in this world who care.
For the past 20 years, my mother — the woman who raised me with love and sacrifice — has been unable to walk properly. Her knees are severely damaged, and she lives in constant pain. Every day, I watch her struggle just to stand, just to move a few steps — and most days, even that is impossible. She often remains confined to a chair or a mattress, robbed of her mobility, her freedom, and her dignity.
We live in a country that lacks even the most basic essentials of life. Healthcare is a privilege only the wealthy can afford. Clean water, reliable electricity, safe transportation, and basic medical care are not guaranteed here. There are no social services. There is no health insurance. There is no safety net for people like us — the poor, the forgotten.
When my father died in 2015, our fragile world collapsed completely. He was the only provider we had, and since then, my mother and I have been living in extreme poverty. Every day is a fight to survive — to find food, to afford medicine, to simply keep going. I have no steady income, no job security, and no help from the government or local institutions.
The doctors have told us that surgery and physical therapy could allow my mother to walk again — that she could live without constant pain, maybe even be able to leave the house on her own for the first time in decades. But the cost of treatment is far beyond anything I can afford. It feels like watching a door to hope open… and not being able to walk through it.
That is why I am here — reaching out, humbly and vulnerably, to strangers with kind hearts. If you are reading this, please consider helping us. Your donation — no matter how small — can change my mother’s life forever. It could mean the difference between a lifetime of suffering and a chance to stand, to walk, to live again.
If you are unable to donate, I ask you from the bottom of my heart to share our story. Someone out there might be able to help. Someone out there might hear our cry.
My mother has spent her life giving, sacrificing, and enduring — now, I want to give something back to her. I want to give her relief. I want to give her dignity. I want to give her hope.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. Thank you for being the light we’ve been searching for in these long, dark years.
With all my heart,