Hello, my name is Aygün.
I am breathing today with the lungs of a deceased person who donated five vital organs. I am endlessly grateful—truly, a thousand times grateful—to my late donor and to the generous family who donated their organs.
I was born with lung disease. It continued throughout my childhood and into adulthood. Although the names of the diagnoses changed, I lived with one lung condition after another until, by chance, at the age of 33, I was diagnosed with a genetic lung disease. I will never forget what the professor told me: “If you can stay connected to an oxygen machine for three years, a lung transplant may be possible within five years.” Exactly one year later, lung transplantation began in Türkiye. When I first heard this, no lung transplant had yet been performed in the country.
More than receiving my diagnosis, what troubled me most—as a healthcare professional—was how little I knew about organ donation. The first thing I did was donate my organs, regardless of whether they would ever be usable. It was not about whether my organs would be healthy enough. It was about setting an example and raising awareness. I am someone who is even allergic to Parol tablets. My intention was not based on thinking that I might one day need a transplant myself. Out of that sense of embarrassment, I immediately began researching organ transplantation. With God’s help, I joined a certificate programme run by the Ministry of Health and later completed my master’s degree on organ transplantation.
During the COVID-19 period, I suddenly became much worse because of an attack I had experienced, and I was urgently placed on the lung transplant waiting list. As I said, I am allergic even to Parol tablets. I remember often saying, “I wish I were ignorant—ignorance is bliss,” because knowing everything made the situation harder. I worked in the field and understood what was happening. I would not say that I prayed for an organ to become available, because I was always thinking about the fact that someone would have to die.
I waited exactly 11 months.
Seven days before the transplant, I had lost my mother. That night, I prayed for her. While praying, I felt that I had reached my final condition too. I was using an oxygen machine that weighed 17 kilograms and had a hose. Your freedom is limited to the length of that hose. You can move the machine from the living room to the outside, but only as far as the hose allows.
I was in such a poor condition that I could not even attend my mother’s funeral. On the seventh day after her death, I prayed intensely and said, “My God, either grant me the healing of the Prophet Job, or take me to my mother.”
Five minutes after I went to bed, my coordinator called and told me that an organ had become available. I could not even go home. While my husband and my sibling went to take a COVID test, I placed the will I had prepared on the table, prepared food for my cat, tidied the house a little so it would be clean for the funeral gathering, and went to the hospital.
I woke up one day later. I thought, “I must have died. I am probably in heaven.” I could not believe it. I could not believe it.
The first breath was difficult, but the rest came very easily. An incredible team welcomed me—an absolutely wonderful team. They performed my operation using a technique that broke a record in Türkiye, and today I am breathing thanks to my late donor.
I know very, very well what it means to take one enormous breath.
There are approximately 30,000 people waiting for an organ in our country, and around 4,000 of them are children. Any one of us could suddenly become one of those waiting—almost like a lottery. This is a matter of common sense. Do not wait until it happens to you. Become an organ donor and hold on to life.