A Journey I Never Expected
A Journey I Never Expected
Seven years ago, I donated my kidney to my sister, Ayesha. Among all our siblings, I was the one who matched. At the time, I didn’t fully understand why the Almighty chose me for this role, but I felt it in my heart—I was meant to help her. By the Almighty’s will, this gift gave her a second chance at life.
Even after the donation, I often wondered: Why me? Why was I chosen to be the match? There had to be a deeper reason. I didn’t have the answer then, but that moment planted a seed in my heart that would grow in ways I never expected.
How It All Started
Years later, I visited Sohawa in Punjab, Pakistan, hoping for a simple trip to reconnect with an old friend Anjum, whom I hadn’t seen in 30 years. I’d never been to Punjab before, and I didn’t know much about the place or have any real ties there.
One day, I got stuck in a political rally that lasted two days, with roads completely blocked. The whole time, I couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if someone needed dialysis right then. Kidney patients often need it three times a week, on a tight schedule—so how would they even reach the hospital in Rawalpindi if nobody could move? That question weighed on me until I searched my phone for nearby dialysis centers and found one in Gujar Khan. On a whim, I asked my friend Anjum to come along so we could check it out. I wasn’t sure why it felt so urgent—especially since I knew nothing about how their system worked—but I had to see for myself.
When we arrived, I saw a young girl named Kashaf hooked up to a dialysis machine. Coming from a non-medical background, I always thought of kidney disease as more of an adult issue, so seeing a child in that situation was both heartbreaking and eye-opening. Yet Kashaf had this bright, captivating smile that drew me right in. Talking to her mother, I learned how far they’d traveled for treatment and how uncertain they were about what came next.
That image stayed with me long after I returned to the U.S. Families like Kashaf’s were traveling hours for care, not knowing if they could afford it next time. It really shook me. That’s when it clicked—maybe there was a bigger reason behind my own journey as a kidney donor. Helping my sister was only the beginning. I realized I was meant to do so much more.
Learning From the Patients
Back in the U.S., I knew I wanted to do more—even though my background was in IT, not healthcare. I started reading everything I could about dialysis and kidney care, trying to figure out where I could make a real difference. One day, I noticed DaVita was hiring, so I went for it. I still remember my interview: three people, including my Facility Administrator Liza. I shared how my time in Pakistan shaped my passion for kidney health, and how I believed my unique perspective could help patients. Despite not having a medical background, they believed in me and hired me as a Patient Care Technician (PCT).
Working at DaVita was eye-opening. Every day, I met patients from all walks of life, each dealing with the same heavy burdens—constant treatments, financial worries, and the emotional toll of kidney disease. It didn’t matter if they were in a modern U.S. facility or a remote village in Pakistan; the struggles were universal. That’s when it truly hit me: this isn’t just a local concern—it’s a global one.
Building Hope
Today I’m working on establishing a dialysis center in Sohawa, and it never ceases to amaze me how the Almighty has guided this journey. I wasn’t born in Punjab, had no family ties here, and barely knew anyone at first. Yet doors kept opening, and people stepped forward to help in ways I could never have imagined.
I traveled to Sohawa alone because I didn’t want my sister, Ayesha, to make those long, exhausting trips. My plan was to check out the situation first, handle any urgent issues, and make sure everything was safe before she joined me. During my visits, I met several patients who desperately need care, and that’s when my friend Anjum and her family stepped in to support me. As I dug deeper—talking to locals and hearing their stories—it became crystal clear that a dialysis center is urgently needed here. What really surprises me is how neither local authorities nor politicians ever made this a priority.
But building a healthcare facility in a place where I have no personal roots comes with plenty of challenges, from navigating local regulations to getting legal approvals and meeting strict medical standards. It’s been a year since my sister and I started our U.S.-based nonprofit, Voices for Kidney Patients, and we’re still waiting on our official registration certificate in Pakistan. Until that’s ready, we’re teaming up with local groups to keep the project moving.
Even though we’re setting up a separate nonprofit in Pakistan, it’s still guided by the mission of Voices for Kidney Patients. It’s not just about another dialysis center—it’s about creating a full-scale kidney care facility with early prevention, regular checkups, and labs. Since becoming a Kidney Health Coach, I’ve realized how important it is to tackle kidney disease at its roots so people can catch problems before they become emergencies. Sadly, I’ve already seen four deaths that could have been prevented if patients had access to emergency dialysis closer to home. Every hurdle I face reminds me that when we follow a purpose bigger than ourselves, the Almighty finds a way to guide us through.
A Parallel Journey
I’ve spent the last year focused on a dialysis project in Sohawa, but my thoughts keep drifting to Gaza. Around that same time, conflicts in Palestine erupted, and each time I opened my phone, I saw horrifying images that made me wonder how, in today’s modern world, humanity could reach such extremes. Like so many others, I felt helpless. I went to protests, raised awareness on social media, and watched people everywhere condemn the cruelty. Yet deep inside, I kept thinking about the patients already fighting for their health—especially those who rely on dialysis in the midst of all this. It’s like they say: when you’re deeply involved in something, you spot its importance everywhere you look. All I could see was how urgent kidney care becomes when everything else is falling apart.
My sister Ayesha showed me a post about the urgent need for dialysis support in Gaza and it hit me hard. Are there enough centers? How do patients manage when chaos surrounds them every day? Could it be possible that one day I can build something there? The more I think about it, the more I realize I have to try. Even if I don’t have all the answers yet, I believe that if the Sohawa dialysis project once felt impossible, the Almighty can guide me toward Gaza, Palestine, too. These questions run deep, and a voice inside me says yes. But first, I need to finish what I started in Sohawa. Families here depend on me, and I’ve promised myself I won’t back down, no matter the obstacles.
Final Thoughts
I am grateful that the Almighty gave me this purpose, and I pray that I stay guided on the right path. My days are filled with constant searching, writing grant proposals, updating donors, taking calls, and endless problem-solving matters. As the work is still in its early stages, every step feels crucial. Yet each hurdle reminds me why I started this mission. Once the Dialysis Center in Sohawa is up and running, I’ll listen to that inner voice urging me toward the next phase. I pray this mission eventually reaches every kidney patient who needs it—no matter how impossible it might seem.
Working at DaVita in the US and volunteering at a dialysis center in Pakistan opened my eyes to how vastly different healthcare can look. Equipment, hygiene, and professionalism may vary, but patients’ hopes, fears, and daily struggles stay the same. At the end of the day, they all want a normal life where dialysis isn’t in control.
We’re truly one global community. Race, religion, or background doesn’t matter when you’re fighting for your health. Part of strengthening that community is talking openly about organ donation. As a living donor, I know how cultural beliefs and misconceptions can hold people back. This year, I plan to explore these beliefs in local and international communities and share what I learn. By breaking the silence and clearing up misinformation, I hope we can build a future where no kidney patient feels alone.
— Naima Khan, Living Kidney Donor and Founder of Voices for Kidney Patients
