Single-Mother Can't Afford Surgery for Tumour that's Blinding Daughter

People stare, point, and sometimes even run away when they see my daughter.

My daughter Anami is 21 years old, but she has never lived like other girls her age. Since childhood, she’s had a tumour on her face—a large, painful mass that has only grown worse over time. I’ve seen her suffer every single day of her life. 

Anami has a condition called recurrent plexiform neurofibroma, with a large tumour growing on the left side of her face. They’re saying it’s dangerously close to her carotid arteries. We’re sharing our story today because we desperately need your help. 

 

 

Doctors have told us that her treatment will involve neurosurgery and plastic surgery, and will cost around INR 25,00,000.00. We don’t have that kind of money. We don’t even have anything to sell.

She has to physically lift the sagging skin just to see from her left eye. Her head and neck hurt all the time. She can’t sleep properly, can’t brush her teeth, and struggles with basic activities at home. 

And now, the tumour is growing again. She lives in constant pain and fear—what if one day, she can’t eat or drink at all?

When she was very small, we lost my husband, her father. Since then, it’s been just the two of us. I work as a laborer, earning barely enough to feed us. There is no one else to help, no savings to fall back on. 

Everything I earn goes into our daily needs. Treatment for her condition is beyond anything I can manage. But it’s her only chance.

Anami says, “Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I didn’t have this tumour. I’m tired of being stared at—I just want to be seen as a normal girl.”

 

 

She had to drop out of school in Class 8. The stares, the whispers, and the cruel rejection from people broke her spirit. Even now, people avoid her, and no one wants to marry her because of how she looks. 

That pain, I cannot describe. As a mother, it’s heartbreaking to watch your child live in loneliness, to hear her cry about how left out and isolated she feels.

She tells me often, “I long for a day when I can look in the mirror and not feel ashamed, when I can walk outside without fear or judgment.”

 

 

Anami dreams of a normal life—of being healthy, of building a future, of having someone to love and support her. I had those dreams for her too. But all I can do now is cry when I see her suffering, knowing I have no means to help.

I am begging you with all my heart—please help my daughter. Help her live a life free of pain, shame, and fear. 

She deserves that chance. We’ve come this far on hope alone. 

Please help us hold on to it