When Jyothi got sick this time, she was turned away several times from the government hospital. She weighed about 25 kg (60 lbs) and could barely walk, but even in that condition she was not able to find a doctor willing to help her -- being HIV+, this still happens in India. We took her to a non-profit organization specializing in HIV patients, where she finally got medical attention. She was started on atiretrovirals, as her CD4 count was only 75. Another complication was the hospital's requirement (as all hospitals in India require) that a family member stay with her the entire time she was admitted -- for Jyothi, this was impossible as her brother refused, her niece often disappeared to work to earn money for her dad, and Jyothi had no sister or mother to help out. We cobbled together a solution that included help from our other street women, but the hospital's frustration over the situation didn't help matters. Jyothi's condition never really improved and she took a turn for the worse after a couple of weeks in the hospital, when she started hallucinating, failed to properly take her medicine, and lost her appetite.

After being diagnosed six weeks into her hospital stay with tuberculosis, she began treatment but by that time it was too late. Who knows if she would have survived if she had been diagnosed earlier. It was a sad ending for an Indian woman who had lived a very hard life. She simply wanted to make ends meet in a society that has little compassion for women abandoned by their husbands. In the end, we found an excellent terminal care facility for HIV patients in Bangalore (about three hours away) for Jyothi, and although she lasted only a few days there, she was at least comfortable and with caring people when she passed away. The day before, we had visited her and although she was unconscious, she fluttered her eyelids when we talked to her, so we hope that she knew we were there with her to say goodbye.