In an inspiring story of healing, Abdulrahman, a 13-year-old Qatari boy, recounts how his life changed drastically at age eight. He never anticipated that his innocent play with his cousins and brother would transform into a challenging journey.

The Difficult Start:

The days leading up to Abdulrahman’s eighth birthday were full of joy and laughter, but illness began to encroach upon his young body. After noticing his worsening health, his mother decided to take him to the pediatric emergency center in Al-Sadd. Abdulrahman thought this visit would be just another routine check-up, but little did he know it would drastically alter his life.

When the family arrived at the center, they were shocked to be asked to move to an isolation room, which caused great concern for his mother. Abdulrahman was too young to fully understand what was happening and felt a mix of anxiety and fear. His mother reached out to the doctors, but they did not explain the reason for the isolation procedures. Amid this uncertainty, she discovered through online research that Abdulrahman might have leukemia, although this was not yet confirmed by the doctors.

Searching for Hope:

Abdulrahman began his journey with chemotherapy at Hamad General Hospital, but this was only the beginning. After days of tests and diagnoses, he was confirmed to have acute myeloid leukemia, and his chemotherapy treatment began, lasting for years. Despite Abdulrahman’s pain and anxiety, his mother remained by his side, helping him understand the illness and cope with it in age-appropriate ways.

The Treatment Journey:

The family moved to a children’s hospital in Washington, D.C., where Abdulrahman started a complex medical journey. He experienced significant distress and sadness due to the chemotherapy, and losing his hair was among the most challenging aspects. Nevertheless, there were moments of support, such as his uncle comparing his catheter to Iron Man’s “arc reactor,” which gave him the strength to face his challenges.

Meanwhile, Abdulrahman’s mother worked tirelessly to ensure his education continued, with teachers coming to the hospital to teach him. Although it was difficult for him, he later realized the importance of continuing his education as part of his healing journey.

Overcoming Challenges:

Despite the numerous challenges Abdulrahman faced in the hospital, including graft-versus-host disease and repeated chemotherapy, his family’s support never wavered. His mother was particularly distressed by the lack of suitable donors, but hope was restored when a mother in Texas donated umbilical cord blood that matched Abdulrahman.

Returning to Normal Life:

After the transplant, Abdulrahman and his family moved to a new home instead of staying in the hospital. The new home had a large basement that Abdulrahman transformed into his playground, giving him a space for relaxation and fun. However, he was still under regular medical follow-ups. Over time, the family returned to Qatar, where Abdulrahman continued his recovery.

Returning to School and Community:

When Abdulrahman returned to school, he faced difficulties adapting to the new environment, including bullying due to the weight gain from treatment. However, with the support of his new school, he was able to overcome these challenges and make new friends. The school was welcoming and helped him reintegrate into a normal life.

Optimism and Support:

Abdulrahman and his mother have not forgotten the gratitude they owe to the doctors, nurses, and social workers who supported them throughout the treatment journey. Organizations like “Make-A-Wish” and “Panda Group” provided non-medical support, improving Abdulrahman’s quality of life. Gestures such as providing photos of children in the hospital or supporting them through nausea had a significant impact on his morale.

A Message of Hope:

As things settled, Abdulrahman’s mother wanted to share their experience with the community. She expressed her hope that society would become more open and understanding in supporting children and their families facing cancer. She said, “God tested many children with cancer, including my son. This topic should not remain taboo. Society needs to be more open and understanding to help children and their families, as mutual support greatly contributes to overcoming hardships.”

Conclusion:

Abdulrahman’s story is a powerful reminder of the strength of hope and the role of family and community support in overcoming tough times. His journey from pain to healing highlights the importance of empathy and cooperation in addressing health challenges.

Amid the melodies and harmonies that Roger Wickham long created with his saxophone and flute, he never imagined that life would one day play a different tune for him—a tune he didn’t choose, but one that became the key to a deeply human experience. This experience reshaped his outlook on life and inspired him to become a source of light and support for those walking a similar path.

A New Beginning

Roger Wickham, a 50-year-old British musician, spent much of his life moving between European capitals until he eventually settled in Madrid, Spain. But five years ago, he and his wife and their two children moved to Doha, Qatar, to begin a new chapter of their lives together.

“As a family, we are very happy here. We work hard and enjoy life,” Roger says. “Everything was going smoothly.”

He lived a healthy lifestyle—regular exercise, swimming, running, and never smoked. The only health issue he ever faced was a slight weight gain, which he considered a natural part of aging.

From a Sore Throat to a Life-Changing Journey

In late 2015, Roger noticed a mild sore throat and a small swelling on the right side of his neck. At first, it seemed trivial. His general practitioner prescribed antibiotics and told him to return if things didn’t improve within a week.

The pain subsided, but the swelling did not. At the follow-up visit, Roger’s doctor—whom he describes as “wonderful,” decided not to dismiss the persistent swelling and referred him immediately for further imaging, raising the possibility of cancer.

Roger then underwent a long series of detailed medical examinations, including a biopsy under general anesthesia and a PET scan. He recalls that phase as:

“The hardest part… The waiting was exhausting. Not knowing what you’re dealing with is terrifying. Every scenario seemed possible. Six weeks of uncertainty—swinging between fear and hope every moment.”

Although no one had used the word “cancer” at that point, Roger felt the fear deep within him. Eventually, the diagnosis came: throat cancer.

Despite the initial shock, finally understanding what was happening brought some relief. He could now begin his battle. He gave himself two days to absorb the news, then told himself“I can survive this. This isn’t the end of the road.”

He reached out to former patients, listened to their stories, and found hope. He saw people who had recovered and were living happy lives, and so his journey began.

In February 2016, Roger underwent major surgery followed by intensive chemotherapy and radiotherapy. He recalls the treatment in detail and spent three weeks in the hospital. Despite the challenges, the illness gave him no choice but to fight “I knew I was in a battle—and I had to face it with everything I had.”

The Strength of Family

Roger didn’t go through this alone. His wife stood by his side every step of the way, as did his children and friends. From the beginning, he chose honesty.

“We told our children because they were old enough to understand. You can’t hide something this serious from them. Being honest with them was a necessity. Every conversation with my family was like a lifeline. The more I spoke about my condition, the better I felt.”

He speaks about the immense emotional support he received from those around him:

“Words of love, care, and compassion were just as healing as the treatment I was receiving in the hospital.”

Even the moments of weakness, like when he broke down in front of his wife upon entering the hospital, were softened by the arms of his family and the waves of empathy that surrounded him.

Music as a Path to Healing

Despite the hardship, Roger held on to his musical spirit. Even if he couldn’t play, he would dream and plan. After his recovery, he composed two music recordings, and he hopes to complete five albums over the next five years—a symbolic tribute to life and healing.

“I want these next five years to be the best of my life. After everything I’ve been through, I don’t want to forget any of it—it’s a constant reminder that I’m one of the lucky ones.”

A Message from the Heart

Having completed much of his recovery journey, Roger refuses to stay silent. He wants his voice to reach every person facing cancer:

“You are not alone… and every moment that passes brings you closer to healing.”

“Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Don’t underestimate what you’re going through. Accept support, and give it in return. Life doesn’t end with illness. We are stronger than we think.”

Gratitude

Roger expresses his deep appreciation for the Qatar Cancer Society, which supported him during different stages of his treatment:

“This organization plays a powerful humanitarian role. I shared my story with them because I want it to be a guiding light for anyone walking the treatment path. The joy of giving far outweighs the pleasure of receiving.”

In early spring of 2017, a short visit to the doctor changed his life forever. He had begun noticing a small mass on the left side of his neck in April, but I didn’t think much of it then and initially dismissed it. Fahth only decided to get it checked out when prompted by his friends and family. Fahth said, “I conceded for their sakes, but I wasn’t worried; it was flu season, and everyone in my family was in good health. I remained oblivious as I took sick leave, so I avoided them like I had the plague—which wasn’t so far from the stock-keeping company I worked for and made my way to the hospital. The doctors poked and prodded, hunting for a diagnosis and scouring my body for information. The doctors decided on a surgical removal of my thyroid, and in June 2017, I underwent surgery and a biopsy. They then told me that I had papillary thyroid carcinoma, a type of cancer that affects the thyroid gland.

Upon learning my condition, I was shocked. The cancer had been the last thing on my mind. The lump in my neck now felt like a noose, and my diagnosis was a death sentence. But my initial fears were put to ease by the doctor’s reassurances that this type of cancer is the most common, amongst the most curable, and my chances were fantastic. Despite my initial reactions, my mind was surprisingly straightforward, and I worked with my doctor to draw up an elaborate plan to overcome my illness. I knew exactly what I had to do and was determined to beat the cancer.

The following month, the doctors performed a surgical removal of my thyroid gland, which was thoroughly colonized by cancer cells. The surgery was declared a success, but the doctors advised me to do high-dose radioactive iodine therapy, as opposed to the standard dosage. The higher dosage would almost guarantee that the cancer wouldn’t come back, at least not for a while. However, it wasn’t offered here in Doha, so I had to travel to another country to receive the treatment. So, in September of 2017, I had high-dose radioactive iodine treatment.

I was also given a lifelong prescription of thyroxine supplements and a tiny scar to remind me of the victory. I was satisfied and ready to close that chapter and move on. I could return to enjoying my time by video-calling my family and shopping with friends. I felt carefree again. Every three months, I had routine follow-up appointments. The doctor also gave me a regular follow-up appointment, and it was during one of these that they found a 6mm mass that, thankfully, wasn’t cancerous.  I had low-dose radioactive iodine therapy in June 2018 as part of my treatment.

As time went on, I was no longer thinking of obscure masses on my neck or anything cancer-related. The routine follow-up appointments every three months and the regular follow-ups with my doctor were the only reminders that I had even gone through that experience. Every visit felt like a small victory. Every time the doctor told me that there was no sign of cancer, I let out a small sigh of relief. As the months passed and I continued testing negative for any recurrence of cancer, the follow-up appointments began to feel redundant, and I felt confident that we had warded off the tumor. So, during a follow-up appointment in November of 2019, I failed to notice the unusually long ultrasound, the doctor’s careful manner, or the nurses’ sympathetic expressions. With an almost guilty expression on his face, the doctor informed me that he had found a new 3mm mass in my lymph nodes, which was a new recurrence of the cancer. Again, the medical staff tried to reassure me that this was a fairly common phenomenon, that 75% of patients with thyroid cancers exhibit metastasis to the lymph nodes. They advised me to complete another round of high-dose radioiodine therapy.

I felt sorry. I had followed through with the plan and had done everything right. I had already beat the cancer. How could it be back? I tried to trace my habits, searching for clues in my lifestyle. I needed answers to find logic in my illness. I came up blank. I began to blame myself at this point. Not just for this complication but for getting the cancer in the first place. Was it an unhealthy diet? Was it bad luck? Or perhaps a neighbor’s evil eye? I felt responsible, convinced that I might’ve prevented it if I had done something differently. But the truth is that nobody can control or predict cancer. It took me a long while and much heartache before I realized this, but when I finally did, it became easier to modify my action plan and move on to the next phase of treatment.

I returned in February 2020 for another round of high-dose radioactive iodine treatment. This would help eradicate the cancerous tissue migrating to my lymph nodes. As standard protocol, they had asked me to stop taking my thyroxine medication in the weeks leading up to the therapy, so I was constantly fatigued and in pain. The pills they gave me for my symptoms only replaced my lethargy and pain with overwhelming nausea. My hormones were all up and down; some days, I would be shivering, while other days, I would be sweating so much that I would have to take up to three showers. These were the most difficult times of my cancer journey. My life became bland, and it had little to do with the low-salt diet that was prescribed to me. I expected that the radioactive therapy must have felt agonizing, like my insides were burning. But I don’t specifically recall that pain. Thinking back, I wonder where I drew the strength to endure a treatment that felt like being nuclear bombed. I suspect that perhaps it was because I had no choice. I didn’t have time to dwell on the details of my discomfort as I just needed to be done with it to proceed to the next phase of the plan.

After the radioiodine therapy in February, I was in one-month isolation. The radiation that I was emitting would harm anybody in my vicinity. Those few weeks where I was entirely on my own reinforced my sense of alienation; my physical isolation reflected the mental isolation of my cancer diagnosis.  But there was light at the end of the tunnel. Soon after this period, my doctor gave me the good news. I had cleared the last hurdle: I was once again cancer-free.

From then on, I was wary during my follow-up appointments. I was careful not to be overconfident about the status of my cancer this time, cognizant that my papillary cancer had already spread to my lymph nodes before and that it could happen again. Like clockwork, a couple of months later, they found more cancer sprinkled in my lymph nodes. With every encounter, my cancer grew more robust and more persistent, but I was unfazed; I was evolving alongside my cancer and felt prepared for it this time. No longer naïve, I was ready to attack the next course of treatment.

The treatment was the same radioactive iodine ablation therapy that was used against my cancer the last time. However, I was advised to seek a higher dosage, as opposed to the standard dosage that was previously administered. The higher dosage would almost guarantee that cancer wouldn’t come back, at least not for a while: a new battlefield, the same old enemy. Where I had been supported financially and emotionally by the Qatar Cancer Society (QCS) in Doha, I would have to look for new solace wherever I decided to seek treatment. I decided to continue my treatments back home in Sri Lanka so that my family and friends could surround me; it seemed like a fair enough trade-off.

Before I left, QCS gave me a booklet called Story of Hope, which detailed the experiences of many cancer survivors. While reading through the stories, I was filled with the strangest feeling. Although the individuals in the stories differed from me—their backgrounds, types of cancers, and individual experiences — I still could relate to bits and pieces of their journeys. Until now, I remained strong because I felt I had no choice. I had to go on. But reading through the stories in the booklet filled me with extraordinary hope and inspiration. It helped me realize there is no cookie-cutter cancer experience, only a rich variety unique to every patient. Finally, I could make sense of my experience and take control of my narrative. It was hard to constantly hear that I had the “good” or “easy” type of cancer because while I respect that many others have had more difficult journeys, it undermined the fact that my experience was far from good or easy. Cancer is still Cancer. It was now as straightforward as the doctors would tell me, as the websites reassured me. I constantly had to modify my action plan; I had to be determined yet flexible, hopeful but not naïve. Reading the QCS booklet helped me realize that cancer is not the monolithic disease that the label suggests. Instead, it is a continuum experienced differently by every cancer patient. Suddenly, I felt liberated from any expectation of how this process was supposed to go and drew strength from the fact that cancer could be beaten even in all its different forms. I began to see the unpredictability of cancer as predictable and felt comforted that no matter how the cancer presented itself, I would be able to overcome it. Now that I have finished my treatment, I hope that my story can similarly inspire other cancer patients who felt as lost as I did. I hope they can find clarity and see themselves in my story. But I would expect even more for them to be able to create their own story on their terms.

Mr. Mohamed  Mawloud was living normally until he began to experience some strange symptoms one day. After undergoing all the necessary tests and a colonoscopy, he was found to have rectal cancer. He was told then that the next step would be to undergo surgery to remove the tumor. Having no previous knowledge or predetermined notions about rectal cancer, Mr. Mohamed approached this news with the ideology that it was like any other condition that could happen to any person. His faith and trust in Allah dissipated doubts about what the future may hold for him. Even though the procedure was painful, he drew strength from the incredible support of his family, especially his sister. He went on to take a 1-year leave from his job to complete his chemotherapy course. Unfortunately, the body aches, fatigue, and loss of appetite he experienced as byproducts of the therapy forced him to leave his job.

Despite everything, Mr. Mohamed is relieved to have completed most of his treatment course. He is looking forward to his very last session, after which he can look for a new job.

Mohamed received radiotherapy and chemotherapy through the Qatar Cancer Society, which he got in touch with through Hamad Medical Corporation. He was delighted with the psychological support he received from the medical team, which positively influenced his well-being as he went through this challenging journey. While recalling what he learned, Mr. Mohamed pinpointed that patience was the most critical lesson he acquired from going through treatment. He advises everyone going through the same journey to comply, continue the treatment, and face it without fear of the temporary side effects that eventually go away. Finally, Mr. Mohamed reiterated that what helped him the most was praying and reading a daily verse of the Qur’an, which he described as “God’s cure to people.”

My name is Sami. I come from Jordan. I moved to Doha in 2016 to start my own business and improve my children’s and my family’s material and social conditions. I was a kind father, responsible for the happiness and welfare of my family. I was an athlete, never smoked, and paid great attention to my health.

After I arrived in Doha, I began to feel a change in my right eye, although the external eye examinations did not explain why! However, an MRI scan did.

Here was my first shock when it turned out that the reason was the presence of some tumors in my brain. Later, cancer spread to different parts of my body: the liver, the adrenal glands, the lungs, and the spine, and a terrible nightmare began.

I never thought I’d start counting the number of days left for me in the world, and I never imagined myself in bed, waiting to die; I’ve had mixed thoughts about everything: parents, children, work .. etc.

Should I give in to sickness and death just like that? Should I open the door so easily for that monster to eat my body and my ability to live? During those days, I saw only death in front of my eyes. Death did not faint in my mind, so I was exhausted of this feeling until I stopped myself and asked, why do I think about death while I was still alive? Therefore, I resisted; I decided to co-live with it and put away every negative thought or slight idea that meant my life was ending. I would hide this dilemma from my parents and family. I did not want to overburden them or make them feel pain or sorrow for knowing my disease, so I decided to leave them to their lives and studies. Even my wife has burdens and responsibilities against kids and their studies.

I started the journey of radiotherapy, then chemotherapy. Have you ever heard about chemotherapy and its adverse effects? It has severe impacts on the body and psyche. It causes delirium, weakness, inflammation, diarrhea, depression, and several significant side effects.

Cortisone and radiation left their prints on my face and frail body. Questions by colleagues at work began to increase. My capability to work was decreasing. I found that people surrounding me offered their help. However, my decision not to inform anyone has never changed. I did not stop working, refused all assistance despite suffering from fatigue and pain, and endured all with love and conviction about God’s fate.

I continued with the chemotherapy for a while and liked to stay in the hospital despite seeing patients suffering everywhere around me. Nevertheless, I succeeded in making these hard times an opportunity to create a peaceful and thrilling atmosphere. I used to sit in the hospital garden to enjoy the open air and chat with nurses and patients. I was grateful to God that the center was free of sick children because I couldn’t bear to see a sick child.

I followed the treatment patiently and effortlessly, resisting and insisting. Little by little, disease began to decline, and victory was overcome. Medical reports showed positive results after the chemotherapy. In contrast, the stage of immunotherapy has started. Hope, vitality, and strength returned to my tired body, which was exhausted by the treatment.

I have become more upbeat and optimistic and look forward to the prospects of a better life free from cancer and treatment.

All this happens without telling anyone about my family. I endured a great deal of physical and psychological fatigue.

During that period, all excuses for not returning to my country and seeing my family during holidays and vacations are running out. My wife was inquiring why her husband was changing, so I had to tell her about my status and everything that had happened. She had never expected that I and death would be at a close distance.

My wife asked me to come to Doha immediately, but I refused and asked me to leave everything back and go to me. Still, I declined and convinced her of the necessity and importance of our stay in the same situation and continued my treatment, and she continued to take care of the children.

Thank God, I became better and better under the treatment I follow at the National Centre for Cancer Care & Research.

My advice to those afflicted by this disease is to adhere to treatment, not give up hope, and not heed other advice that others believe will cure cancer.

Having achieved an excellent result with immunotherapy, my presence in the center became less, and I recovered successfully. After a short period, I visited my family. I told everyone, especially my mother, but I reassured her that I was being treated in safe hands and that it was much better than being in any other place or country.

At this time, I decided to end this line of my life and start over another bright line and page. I came out of that experience a new human being reborn after my recovery, and my view of life was renewed, so that time became more valuable, as well as in the evaluation of relationships and work, and God only determines that death. Determination, will, desire to live, and trust in God is the way to recovery and not to think about death for as long as we live.