The Donors…
Yaseen’s white blood cells – his fighter cells – needed a boost.
Our doctor had tried the conventional treatments to fight Yaseen’s infection, and he was now considering the less conventional. He proposed that we do a white blood cell transplant in the hope that this would boost Yaseen’s immune system.
Since it was a transplant, we needed a donor.
Mujeeb, Waseem and I were the first to get tested as potential donors for Yaseen’s O+ blood type. As we speculated on what the results of the tests could be, a proposal was put forward – should all three of us match, Mujeeb would be first in line to donate, second in line would be Waseem (who actually wanted to be first), and I was nominated to be third.
The doctor also suggested that a few additional family members be tested in case none of us immediate family matched. Time was critical, and he didn’t want to waste time by first testing and eliminating one group of donors before moving on to the next.
It was the afternoon of 23 December 2021 when the bloods were drawn from the three of us and sent off to be tested. I stayed with Yaseen that day of the 23rd, and as I was leaving the haematology ward for the evening, Mujeeb called with news that surprised us all.
The only match to Yaseen’s O+ blood type, was me. And then he rattled off a list of things that I urgently needed to get done before leaving the hospital, as the procedure was scheduled to start early the next morning.
The following moments were a whirlwind of meeting with the nurse who would oversee the procedure, having my veins checked to make sure it was strong enough to handle the blood flow during the procedure, administering something to boost my own white blood cell production, and then finding out that my veins were too narrow – I needed to have a port line surgically inserted from which my blood could be drawn.
The next day – 24 December – was Waseem’s 18th birthday. Early that morning, I was admitted into hospital and the port line was inserted. And then, a few minutes later, the machine was attached and the white blood cell collection began.
The procedure itself was easy, with hardly any discomfort. But while the procedure was underway, the plans changed. The doctor suggested that instead of me doing one session of donating cells, I would do three sessions. This would give Yaseen enough supply for three transfusions, and hopefully it would give his immune system a greater boost.
To be able to donate that much white blood cells, I needed to stay over in hospital for two nights. And since I was already in hospital, in the haematology ward, I was told to simply remain.
As I settled into my hospital room, I realized that it had been exactly 18 years since I was last admitted into hospital, to that very day. Eighteen years ago on 24 December, Allah SWT chose for me to bring life into the world when Waseem was born. Now, on 24 December, I was back in hospital, trying to save the life of Yaseen.
Besides me, there were three other family members who were selected to be donors – my sister and two of my cousins. I firmly believe that Allah SWT selected the four of us for this purpose specifically. As to why, Allah SWT knows best.
When the first bag of my white cells was administered to Yaseen, his white blood count went up considerably. This gave me so much hope, and I became eager for the second transfusion. But when day two came and the second bag was given, the transfusion failed to make any significant difference. And day three’s results were similar to day two’s.
But still, we persisted. My sister went next as a donor, and then my one cousin. But in all of these instances, with all of these transfusions, there was hardly any change in Yaseen’s blood results.
This news wasn’t good. And I knew if things didn’t turn around soon, we were in serious trouble.
My World, Crashing Down…
It was Friday, 31 December 2021, and Mujeeb did hospital duty that day. I had already been discharged by then, and I chose to stay home. I needed to pray.
I needed to try my best to convince my Lord to spare my son. I begged. I pleaded. I felt like I was caught in a loop, one moment hoping, and then the next feeling absolute fear.
I had a feeling about how this was going to end. And in my mind, I already started imagining what my life would be like if I lost Yaseen. I knew I would be absolutely devastated. I cried for Yaseen, and I cried for me.
I cried as a mother. I cried because the ‘impossible life’ I had been dreading was making its way toward me, and I was powerless to stop it. I cried because I knew I would be losing a piece of my heart. But almost as much as all of this, or maybe even more, I cried because I didn’t know how such a loss would affect my relationship with Allah SWT.
Someone once told me that a person would never leave this world until all of the sustenance that was allocated for them in this world, had made its way to them and was completely depleted.
The sustenance allocated to Yaseen for this world was about to run out. And the angels who had been assigned to protect him his entire life were about to move aside and be replaced by different angels, with different instructions.
This was the moment in my test where I stood at a crossroads. Would it still be a journey towards Allah SWT if I lost Yaseen?
To have a good opinion of Allah SWT in the hardest of moments is a blessing from Allah SWT. Like the words of Ibrahim (AS) when he described Allah SWT by saying: (He is) The One Who created me and He guides me; and it is He who feeds me and gives me drink; And when I am ill, it is He who cures me.
Ibrahim’s (AS) opinion of Allah SWT was so high, that he would attribute being created and guided and sustained to Allah SWT. But when it came to illness, something negative, he attributed that to himself, even when Allah SWT had decreed it.
For me to maintain a good opinion of Allah SWT, I needed to see His mercy in everything.
I needed to accept that because Allah SWT had promised it, I wasn’t being tested with more than I could bear…even if in that moment it felt like I was.
I needed to make peace that He was not about to take away what belonged to me, but to claim back what truly belonged to Him. And I needed to be grateful for His mercy in sharing such a special gift with me.
Allah SWT, in His wisdom, had created a bond between me and Yaseen. And even if, in this world, the mom and son bond would only span 20 years, in the Hereafter, that bond will exist through eternity.
It was now, at this junction, where every moment I had spent trying to build a relationship with Allah SWT, those moments needed to come forward to save me from the darkness that threatened to overwhelm me. Every salaah. Every Monday night spent trying to understand Qur’an. Every charity given to try and please Him. Every quiet moment alone with Him, sobbing on my prayer mat.
I needed every moment I had ever spent getting to know Allah, to keep me close to Him. To keep my trust in Him. In those moments when it felt like my world was crashing down, I needed His help to make the crashing pieces fall around me, and not upon me. I needed His help.
Do you think you will be admitted into Paradise without being tested like those before you? They were afflicted with suffering and adversity, and they were so shaken that ˹even˺ the Messenger and the believers with him cried out, “When will Allah’s help come?” Truly, the help of Allah is (always) near.
[Translation of Qur’an 2:214]
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Saturday, 1 January 2022…
Mujeeb called me that morning, and he was emotional. That’s unlike Mujeeb. Emotional displays were my reactions usually, not his.
I phoned my sister who was at my parents’ place, and I told her to put the phone on speakerphone so my parents could hear. I told them that things were not looking good for Yaseen. I remember my mom saying, in a voice filled with so much anguish that I can still hear it today, ‘Don’t say that…’. My dad said nothing – he was just quiet. I asked for the family to be informed. We were in need of prayers like never before.
I put down the phone and got ready to leave home. Qur’an in hand, I walked to the building’s elevator. On this particular morning though, the elevator was out of order.
I then walked toward the stairway and pushed open the door leading to the stairwell. As I pushed, the door opened slightly, but it wouldn’t open completely. If I remember correctly, there was a box that I had stored in the stairwell area that had become lodged behind the door. I suspected there was enough room for me to push my way through, but I didn’t. Something stopped me.
In this journey through cancer, I had experienced so many inexplicable things that I can only describe as signs from Allah SWT. Some I’ve shared in this blog, like Yaseen’s miraculous recoveries; and some I haven’t, like personal experiences that I can only describe as amazing and unusual. I can’t explain why, but to me, on this particular day, what was happening felt like one of those signs.
So, I turned back and walked into my home, sat down on the couch, opened up the Qur’an, and I started to read. And I waited for the help of Allah SWT, which He said was near, to arrive.