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.

My name is Sheikha Al-Mannai, and I am a television and radio presenter. I started my career as a teacher in 1995 and served as a school principal until 2016. After finishing my tenure as the principal of an independent school, I decided to travel abroad for leisure and to find a new passion. Little did I know that this journey would begin another, more challenging journey in my life.

The Initial Discovery of the Tumor

While staying abroad, I noticed a lump on my upper shoulder. At first, I thought it was just a bruise from hitting the swimming pool wall before my trip. However, the lack of any bruising made me concerned and prompted me to conduct a self-examination, a skill I had learned in medical courses I attended in the past. I felt a small, ball-like lump under my skin, but I ignored it, believing it would disappear over time.

The Diagnosis Journey

After four months of the lump’s appearance, I decided to visit an ultrasound specialist upon returning to Qatar. Although the lump had shrunk after taking the medications prescribed by the doctor, it reappeared, increasing my anxiety. I then went to the health center, which referred me to Hamad Hospital. The next day, I received a call from the hospital requesting that I schedule an appointment with an oncology specialist.

Examinations and Tests

The doctor began with a clinical examination and suspected a malignant tumor. He asked about my family’s medical history and whether I had children. After the initial review, I was referred to the surgery department to remove some lymph nodes for testing. It took two weeks to get the test results, and during that time, the days passed slowly and anxiously. When the results came in, it was confirmed that I had stage one breast cancer. I was in shock and cried, not out of fear of the disease, but out of fear for my late mother, knowing how scared and anxious she would have been for me.

Starting Treatment

When I informed my mother of the test results, I noticed the worry on her face. My doctor was a great support, explaining that I needed chemotherapy followed by surgery. He informed me about the stages of treatment and the challenges I might face, such as hair loss and weight loss. Despite the physical and emotional pain, I decided to hold on to hope and faith.

Family Support and Faith

I began chemotherapy at the National Center for Cancer Care and Research. The smell of the treatment caused nausea and made me feel fatigued. My father and my doctor accompanied me to every session, waiting for me throughout the treatment. After each session, they would ask if I wanted to eat, but the treatment made me nauseous, and I had no appetite. I moved in with my parents during the treatment due to the side effects. I received treatment every 21 days.

Psychological and Social Challenges

What hurt me the most was seeing my mother cry when I returned from treatment sessions, as she could smell the treatment mixed with my scent and sensed my mood changes. I requested to be transferred to a hospital in Houston to complete my treatment, so my mother wouldn’t see me in my sick state. My brother accompanied me on my treatment journey, and I always tried to show him my strength so he wouldn’t feel pity for me.

Life in Houston

I considered the time I spent in Houston one of the best periods of my life, despite the challenges of the illness. I did not stay in inpatient housing but in a home away from other patients because I didn’t want to feel pitied. I focused on exercising, swimming, cooking, and keeping myself busy with household chores. I would wake up at ten in the morning and start my day by cleaning the house and doing laundry. These small details meant a lot to me and made me feel a great sense of accomplishment instead of feeling sorry for myself.

New Challenges

One day, I decided to live without wearing a wig, which shocked my brother when he saw me. He cried and left the house, but I told him that I had accepted my condition that it was temporary and that my health would return to normal in nine months. Despite the difficulties, I insisted that my brother and I go out before my treatment sessions to enjoy the weather, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to do anything the day after the treatment.

Lessons Learned

During my treatment, I realized the true meaning of family and the importance of having them by my side. My mother and father would call me several times a day to check on me. Despite my mother’s severe anxiety and deteriorating mental health, I always tried to show her that I was fine. This experience brought me closer to my children and siblings and gave me a chance to re-evaluate my life.

Conclusion

After arriving in the United States, my life changed completely. I became more faithful and consistent in prayer, and reading the Quran. I realized the importance of enjoying simple moments and stepping away from the pressures of daily life. I learned to allocate time for myself to maintain my health and connection with God and to appreciate divine blessings. The experience affected every aspect of my life and made me view things positively.

I went through a difficult experience, but I learned a lot from it. I realized that relying on God gives a person extraordinary strength to face any challenge. I consider my illness a test from God to see my patience and endurance. I became more humble before God’s greatness and more aware of the value of life, health, and family. Praise be to God for everything.

 

Roger Wickam, a 50-year-old musician from the UK, found his second home in the vibrant city of Madrid, Spain, before relocating to Doha with his loving family five years ago. As a saxophonist and flutist, Roger’s life revolved around his passion for music, punctuated by moments of joy with his wife and children.

Life in Doha was idyllic for Roger and his family, filled with hard work, holidays, and cherished moments together. Despite a generally healthy lifestyle, Roger encountered an unexpected hurdle when a seemingly innocuous sore throat and swelling in his neck led to a life-altering diagnosis.

When confronted with cancer, Roger’s world momentarily faltered, but his spirit remained unbroken. With the support of the Qatar Cancer Society and his loved ones, he embarked on a journey of healing and resilience. Reflecting on his experience, Roger emphasizes the importance of having someone to confide in and relate to during challenging times.

The road to diagnosis was fraught with uncertainty, but Roger credits the swift action of his physicians for setting him on the path to treatment early. Throughout the grueling process of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, Roger found solace in the stories of survivors and the unwavering support of his family and friends.

Despite the physical and emotional toll of his treatment, Roger remained steadfast in his optimism, finding silver linings even in the darkest moments. His journey taught him the value of open communication and the profound impact of human connection in times of adversity.

Today, as Roger celebrates two-and-a-half years in remission, he sees life through a new lens. Grateful for each day, he pours his heart into his music, determined to make the most of his second chance at life. His message to fellow cancer warriors is one of hope and resilience – lean on your support system, embrace the resources available, and never underestimate your strength.

Roger’s journey serves as a reminder that even in the face of adversity, there is music to be found – melodies of hope, courage, and the unwavering human spirit. As he looks towards the future, Roger’s notes of resilience continue to inspire those touched by cancer, reminding us of the power of perseverance and the beauty of the human spirit

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.

 

Mohammed Shabaan, a 55-year-old man, has always prioritized a healthy lifestyle, maintaining a balanced diet and regular exercise routine as part of his daily life. His passion for health extends to his small home farm, where he cultivates a variety of fruits and vegetables, recognizing the numerous benefits they offer. Among his crops is the Moringa tree, known for its medicinal properties in reducing blood sugar levels and providing anti-inflammatory and antioxidant effects.

In March 2017, Mohammed faced what he describes as a life-altering moment. Initially experiencing mild constipation, which he attributed to consuming pomegranates, his condition persisted for ten days, prompting him to seek medical attention. Despite efforts with laxatives, his symptoms worsened with sudden and severe vomiting, leaving him exhausted and unable to walk, leading to an ambulance call.

Following extensive tests, including CT and PT scans, Mohammed received a diagnosis of Stage 3 Colon Cancer. This news came as a shock, as he had expected his symptoms to be transient and quickly resolved. However, upon learning of his diagnosis, Mohammed was prepared to confront the challenges ahead, remaining steadfast in his faith and determination to overcome the obstacles brought by his illness.

Concerned about potential complications, including the temporary placement of a colostomy bag, Mohammed grappled with worries about his image and reputation among family and friends. Despite these fears, he remained resolute in facing the uncertainties of his condition.

After a prolonged discussion, surgical intervention became necessary due to bowel obstruction, with initial attempts to insert a tube proving unsuccessful. However, with the arrival of a determined surgeon, Mohammed’s faith in God’s will was affirmed as the procedure was completed without complications.

Following surgery, Mohammed underwent chemotherapy, enduring severe side effects, including weight loss and diarrhea. Nevertheless, he found solace in the realization that he was nearing victory in his battle against cancer, having weathered the storms of surgery and chemotherapy.

Throughout his journey, Mohammed found unwavering support and understanding from his family and friends, witnessing a positive shift in attitudes towards cancer acceptance. Despite the challenges, he remained hopeful and resilient, facing each obstacle with courage and determination.

Mohammed views cancer not as a defeat but a new beginning—a chance for personal growth and resilience. He actively participates in initiatives such as the “Step of Hope,” in collaboration with the Qatar Cancer Society and the National Center for Cancer Care and Research, advocating for cancer awareness and support.

In conclusion, Mohammed is grateful to the Qatar Cancer Society for pioneering efforts in supporting cancer survivors and raising awareness. His journey is a testament to the power of patience, faith, and community in overcoming life’s most significant challenges. Through his story, Mohammed inspires others to embrace hope and resilience in the face of adversity, proving that with patience and faith, living with cancer is possible and can lead to a life of newfound strength and purpose.

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