“It is not the eyes that are blind, but the hearts within the chest that are blind” – Qur’an 22:46.
The days were hard.
We had met with the haematologist assigned to handle Yaseen’s treatment, and it seemed like history was repeating itself. Once again, Mujeeb liked the doctor, and once again, I felt some reservation. Regardless of our attitudes toward doctors though, the next round of treatment was scheduled and began.
We were vested in this Brentuximab treatment, hoping and praying that it would yield much better results.
Yaseen was struck with side effects very similar to those of ABVD – and then some. He was often tired and he had developed mouth sores.But as time passed and the treatment progressed, we found the physical side effects became overshadowed by the bigger challenge of the psychological ones.
Yaseen became anxious in the days leading up to his chemotherapy sessions, and even the simple act of entering the hospital on his treatment days brought about severe nausea and vomiting.
I was grateful, though, that my son rarely complained. Actually, thinking back, I’m struggling to think of a single time where he did complain. When I asked Yaseen how he was doing, his thumb would go up, even though, as his mom, I could clearly see it had been a challenging day.
The Brentuximab treatment, despite our best hope, wasn’t effective in treating Yaseen. Or at least it was to some degree, but once again not to the extent we had hoped for. And the degree of success we had with the treatment did not compensate for the havoc caused by its side effects.
I changed. I comprehended that Yaseen’s recovery journey wasn’t our ‘best case scenario’ version, but one that involved multiple strategies and challenges. Hope still remained inside of me, but with all the challenges, optimism was starting to fade and desperation was starting to grow.
Our doctor then suggested a third form of treatment, one designed to specifically target the cancer cells. And she also suggested a bone marrow transplant to try and limit the chances of the cancer recurring in future.
I accepted the need for the treatment to specifically target the cancer cells, but voiced strong opposition to the bone marrow transplant. If I wasn’t particularly inclined towards the doctor before, then her intense preference for the transplant made me even less inclined towards her after that.
A bone marrow transplant presented serious life threatening consequences. The transplant would involve 7 days of intensive chemotherapy treatment designed to kill off Yaseen’s bone marrow. Then his own bone marrow, which was harvested prior to the transplant process, had to be reintroduced, in time spurring on his body to create new bone marrow.
This procedure would mean that for a period of time, Yaseen would have zero immunity (and this during the time of Covid). His immune system would be defenceless and any risk of infection could be life threatening. He could die.
Our history with chemotherapy had taught me that Yaseen’s body clearly had an aversion to any form of the treatment. The side effects, physically and emotionally, were harsh. Was it worth all the risk? Especially when the transplant could reduce the risk of the cancer returning, but it could not guarantee that it would never return.
All things considered, I felt justified in raising some strong opposition to the transplant. We seemed to be in a situation where a doctor’s expertise was squaring up against a mother’s intuition, and the situation wasn’t pleasant. The consultation on that day ended with our family having to make some crucial decisions.
I had never in my life felt as powerless as I did. I was calling upon my Lord with utter desperation, thinking that if only I could show how truly desperate and committed I was in my worship, my Lord would make things easier for us.
But whatever point of desperation I thought I had reached, I had not yet reached that point where Allah SWT removed the test and blessed me with my son’s miraculous recovery.
The days following the consultation were nerve-racking to say the least. Conversations flowed between myself and Mujeeb, us parents together with Yaseen, and each of us individually with Yaseen. And then a decision was made.
As much as I stood opposed to the transplant, I had to concede that the cancer in Yaseen’s body was stubborn to eradicate. The results of the ABVD and Brentuximab showed us this. And if the cancer ever had to recur in the future, it was highly likely that we would face an uphill battle in trying to eradicate it. So I reluctantly relented, accepting that the transplant, even with all of its risks, appeared to be the lesser of two evils.
And then, something in our situation changed. Allah (SWT) reminded me that He hears everything, sees everything and knows everything, and that He is in complete control. Just when I had resigned myself to the situation as it was, the Best of Planners, planned differently.
Yaseen’s transplant was due to commence early June. It was the end of May and just a few days before the scheduled transplant when the unforeseen happened.
Mujeeb and I were sitting in the oncology reception area, and he knew that I was feeling a bit despondent, both with the doctor and the upcoming treatment. He told me, with a smile, that I should see it as Allah SWT’s plan that we were led to this particular doctor for Yaseen’s treatment. My response made him laugh. I said maybe Allah SWT had been showing us in different ways that this doctor wasn’t the right one, but we were acting blind to the signs in refusing to acknowledge it.
I can’t remember if it was that very same day or thereabout, when I got a call from Mujeeb with some unanticipated news. He had received an email from Yaseen’s doctor advising that she had accepted a research post in the United States and would be departing South Africa by August. And that she was resigning from her position at the hospital by the end of May. As a result, she would not be overseeing Yaseen’s transplant and we needed to be assigned another doctor.
I felt relieved. Some people might see this as a coincidence, but I certainly didn’t. I don’t believe in coincidences. I saw it as my Lord’s plan unfolding.
When Musa (AS) was caught between two great difficulties – the sea in front of him and Firaun’s army behind him – he said: “Surely my Lord is with me, HE will guide me through.” [Qur’an 26:62].
And how did Allah SWT respond? Allah SWT parted the sea, caused the water to tower like two huge mountains on each side and allowed Musa (AS) and his people to pass safely through.
So how easy was it then for my Lord to pacify my heart, when every day I would sit on my prayer mat, saying so many prayers, and also pleading: “Surely my Lord is with me, HE will guide me through!”
Allah SWT removed doctor number two and was about to replace her with doctor number three. And Allah SWT made it so, that this time, not even I would have reason to complain.