Care That Doesn't Stop When The Money Does

In Niljuria, a small village in Jamtara, Jharkhand, Purnima's days revolved around simple routines; helping her husband, a small farmer, and supporting their modest household. It wasn't much, but it kept the family going. Their two sons were married, with children of their own, and the house was often filled with the soft chaos of a growing family. Their sons ran a tiny shop that sold everyday items to villagers.

Life was steady. Until one day, about two and a half years ago, when Purnima noticed something unusual: stiffness in her right breast. It didn't feel alarming at first. She set it aside thinking it would pass. It did not. Like many in her village, she tried alternative treatment first, hoping to manage it quietly.

The diagnosis arrived, and with it, a different kind of crisis. Not just medical, but logistical, emotional and financial all at once. Her husband speaks only Bengali and had rarely stepped outside their region. Suddenly, he was expected to navigate the hospitals and corridors of a distant city. Their sons stepped in, becoming her companions and decision-makers through everything that followed.

The doctors in Dhanbad advised treatment in Ranchi, but the family chose the Tata Memorial Hospital, Mumbai, where they believed she would receive the best possible care. It was a decision made out of love, and it came at a steep cost.

For nine months, Mumbai became their temporary world. Sometimes, they rented a small room near the hospital paying ₹10,000 for just 20 days, a huge expense for a family like theirs. Other times, when money ran thin, they found shelter in an ashram. Each move meant adjusting again with new surroundings, new routines, and new uncertainties amidst her treatment.

Her sons took turns, one staying by her side in the city, the other returning home to keep the farm and the shop running. Purnima underwent chemotherapy and then surgery, one difficult chapter at a time.

When treatment in Mumbai was complete, she was referred back closer to home, to Ranchi Cancer Hospital and Research Centre (RCHRC), a unit of Tata Cancer Care Foundation established by the Tata Trusts, for radiation therapy. Her treatment there was covered under the Government of India's Ayushman Bharat Yojana. Under the care of a competent medical team, she completed her radiation therapy between February and March 2025.

For a few months, things seemed calm again. She believed the worst was behind her. Then, in September 2025, a follow-up scan told a different story. The cancer had returned. She would need chemotherapy again, and this time, targeted therapy alongside it.

Clinically, it was the more precise path. Financially, it was out of reach. The family's savings were gone. Two and a half years of treatment, travel, and lost income had seen to that. The next phase of care carried a price tag the family simply could not meet. 

Purnima received ₹3.95 lakh, enabling her to begin the targeted therapy without delay. She started travelling to RCHRC every 14 days for chemotherapy. The hospital became a familiar part of her routine, the corridors, the other patients, the families in waiting rooms who understood without needing to be told. There was a quiet solidarity in those spaces that those who have never sat in them cannot fully imagine.

For Purnima, the support meant one thing above all else: that her path to recovery did not stop when the money did.