“Growing up in a military family meant a life of constant movement. My father served in the Military Engineering Services (MES), and his frequent transfers took us to different corners of the country. Each relocation brought new schools, new friendships, and new challenges, shaping my adaptability from an early age. Eventually, we settled in Hyderabad, where my father hoped I would follow his dream of becoming a doctor.
It wasn’t just his dream; it became mine too. After completing my schooling, I pursued my MBBS at Sri Venkateshwara Medical College in Tirupati, graduating in 1998. I went on to earn my MD in general medicine from the same institution. Back then, medicine was still a challenging field for women, and expectations often pushed female doctors toward gynaecology. But I chose general medicine—a path less common for women at the time. People warned me it wouldn’t be enough unless I pursued a super-specialty.
By then, I was married and caring for my one-year-old child. Balancing motherhood with medical studies felt overwhelming. I vividly remember standing outside exam halls with my baby in my arms, shifting between the roles of mother and student—two identities I carried with pride and exhaustion.
When it came time to specialise, I faced yet another decision. Cardiology, endocrinology, and nephrology, each path had its challenges. I chose nephrology, partly because my husband was a urologist. While he handled the surgical side of kidney care, I wanted to manage the medical side: transplantation, dialysis, and long-term care.
Securing admission into Nizam’s Institute of Medical Sciences (NIMS) for my DM in Nephrology was one of my proudest achievements. At the time, NIMS offered just one seat per year in nephrology, and to earn that seat, you had to rank number one in the state. The residency was gruelling—72-hour shifts with barely any time to rest. But I persevered, knowing I was exactly where I needed to be.
In 2011, an unexpected opportunity came my way, one that would define my career. The newly launched Jeevandan Telangana program, designed to facilitate deceased organ donations, needed someone to lead it.
I remember sitting at my desk when the government order (G.O.) arrived. The papers landed in front of me, and with them came a responsibility I couldn’t ignore. The program was still in its infancy, just an idea on paper. There were no clear policies, no structure, and no awareness campaigns. But I believed in the cause and took up the role of Nodal Officer.
Starting from scratch wasn’t easy. We had to build an entire ecosystem—from drafting policies and designing transparent organ allocation software to training hospital staff and counsellors. Sensitising doctors about brain death, an unfamiliar and misunderstood concept, was especially challenging.
I remember standing before teams of skeptical doctors, explaining that brain death was irreversible even though the heart continued to beat. Convincing families was even harder. Grief-stricken and overwhelmed, many struggled to accept that their loved one could still save lives.
One case still haunts me. A 15-year-old girl had tragically taken her life just before her 10th-grade exams. Her father, devastated yet determined to create meaning from his loss, agreed to donate her organs. Days later, he returned to me and said, “My daughter appeared in my dreams. She was smiling… thanking me for saving lives through her donation.”
Moments like these reminded me that our work wasn’t just about medical procedures. It was about hope, compassion, and finding light in the darkest moments.
Over the years, our team worked tirelessly to address religious misconceptions, educate communities, and streamline legal procedures to ensure swift organ retrieval. We collaborated with police teams, navigated post-mortem requirements, and coordinated between donor and recipient hospitals—all within narrow timeframes. Today, the Jeevandan program stands as a role model for organ donation in India.
Telangana has consistently recorded the highest organ donation rates in the country, reaching 5.4 to 5.5 donations per million, far exceeding the national average. Our efforts earned recognition from NOTTO (National Organ and Tissue Transplant Organization) for three consecutive years.
Throughout my journey, I witnessed the unique struggles faced by women in medicine. Many women who started strong in MBBS dropped out before completing their post-graduation or super-specialty studies. Marriage, childcare, and family expectations often forced them to step back from their careers.
That’s why I became actively involved in Women in Nephrology India (WIN India), an organisation dedicated to empowering women nephrologists. As the Secretary of WIN India, I’ve worked to create opportunities for female doctors, mentor those returning after career breaks, and advocate for women kidney patients.
Women are often the silent caregivers, putting their families’ needs first. In many households, women are the ones donating kidneys, yet they struggle to access dialysis or transplants themselves. Through WIN India, we are working to change that narrative, ensuring women have equal access to life-saving care.
Today, I serve as a professor at NIMS, leading one of the country’s largest nephrology teaching programs. When I first joined, NIMS had only one residency seat in nephrology. Today, we have ten seats, with 30 students in training at any given time. Our department has grown to include 120 dialysis machines and has successfully performed over 130 kidney transplants in a year.
Watching my students flourish has been one of my greatest rewards. Many have gone on to establish nephrology departments in cities across India, from Madhya Pradesh to Kerala and Tamil Nadu.
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s this: Women must prioritise their health. Too often, we eat last, rest less, and delay seeking medical care. But like the oxygen mask rule on airplanes, where you’re told to secure your own mask before helping others, women must care for themselves first. Only then can we care for our families and contribute fully to society.
My journey has been filled with challenges, but each one has taught me resilience. Whether it was standing in front of an exam hall with my child in my arms or helping families find hope in the face of tragedy, I’ve learned that strength is not just about enduring hardships—it’s about finding purpose within them.”
- Dr. Swarnalatha Guditi, Nephrologist
(… To be Conti