After a long and exhausting workday, Mawya began to feel some stiffness in her neck. When this stiffness persisted and started hindering her movements, Mawya sought medical help. After ruling out bone pathology, Mawya was prescribed muscle relaxants and advised to pursue physical therapy. Determined not to let her pain affect her work and productivity, Mawya continued to go to her physical therapy sessions despite noticing a progression in her pain. She completed several sessions before she began to feel a fever.

Mawya continued seeking medical advice, at which point she felt the pain spread to her limbs and pelvis. After several tests, scans, and conflicting diagnoses later, Mawya was referred to an oncologist, who recommended a mammogram. When a lump was found on her mammogram, Mawya was in denial. She was unsure how it spread to the lymph node and caused pain in her bones. Worried and confused, Mawya looked to the people around her for guidance. Many of her friends and family gave her suggestions on various therapies she could try– herbs, supplements, cupping, and acupuncture. Maya tried several of these alternative therapies but to no avail. Finally, Mawya contacted a few physicians to get her lymph node biopsied.

She was admitted to NCCCR, where her pain worsened exponentially, necessitating her taking potent analgesics and receiving intravenous infusions as she intensely disliked food. Still, without a confirmed diagnosis, Mawya convinced herself she had cancer. She remembers the biopsy vividly. It seemed like a simple procedure to the staff, but to her, it was enormous. She opted for local anesthesia, fearing the complications of generalized anesthesia, but she did not anticipate the impact her first procedure would have on her. She subsequently needed a psychologist to help her overcome this “simple” traumatic experience.

Before she knew it, medical personnel were talking about treatment plans. No one thought to stop and talk with her through the diagnosis. For some reason, everyone assumed she already knew. One doctor told her she was lucky to have a “good” variant of breast cancer. Maya did not feel lucky at all. She felt shocked. She had previously led a healthy lifestyle; she exercised regularly, ate healthy foods, did not smoke, and did not even own a microwave. She felt overwhelmed. She could not comprehend the huge amount of treatments and procedures she was supposed to endure later due to the spread of the disease in her body and reaching the fourth stage.

With time, Mawya realized this was a test from Allah, and her relationship with her creator grew stronger. Was this diagnosis a message? Was there a lesson she needed to learn? She began to see life in a new light, finding new meanings in every part of her journey.

Mawya also acknowledges that her journey would have been infinitely harder without the support of the people around her. She could not forget the kindness and care of her radiation therapy team and the medical team at  National Center for Cancer and Research NCCCR.

Even with their hectic schedules, they never failed to make time to ensure Mawya’s comfort in whatever way they could. She remembers a specific technician who, noticing that Mawya’s hijab was sliding off her hair, took the time to adjust it despite her identifying with another religion. Maya explains that such small gestures, though they might seem trivial to medical professionals, leave a significant mark on patients. Another encouraging part of Mawya’s journey was the inspirational stories of other cancer survivors that her sister would read to her throughout her treatment. She hopes that her story will serve the same purpose for others.

Ms. Mawya continued to go to the hospital and receive chemotherapy, where all the staff at Al-Amal Hospital were of the highest level of efficiency, helpfulness, and kindness, facilitating all stages of treatment.

Mawya started listening to her body well, preferring not to listen to unwanted and conflicting advice around her. She felt her body was asking for comfort, food, and mental health. She has realized the importance of self-care after years of believing that self-love and self-prioritizing are selfish. Now, she cares about the things she loves more; she read many books, learned the art of crochet and coloring while in bed, and practiced Meditative breathing and yoga; all these activities helped her a lot in the recovery journey.

The most important message she realized was to appreciate the blessings that seem small, but they are much more than we can thank God for them. During her illness journey, she lost the ability to walk alone, eat, taste, smell, shower, and many other things that man considers for granted, some of them because of the disease and others because of the medicines used. However, thankfully today, after three years of diagnosing the disease, Mawya regained her senses and ability to move, returned to practice her life naturally, and, most importantly, realized the value of life and learned that every day lived is a gift to be appreciated and celebrated. A man should remember to deal with body, mind, and spirit humanely and respectfully as she deals with the most precious loved ones. She realized that man should enjoy accompanying, appreciating, and understanding himself more. The most important thing is to forgive yourself and decide that every day will be better than the day before. When you love yourself and appreciate all your experiences, you can love and be grateful to your God and appreciate everything around you.

Every harsh experience takes you to a higher level of self-awareness, where you rearrange your being, make yourself a more affluent person on a spiritual level, and create a masterpiece that adds a magical touch to your life.

 You may be depressed by the hurricane of pain you pass through. Instead, you should fly with the wind as a feather and speak to Allah with your soul; Allah will send you a light that takes you out of the storm; try to be flexible and practice something new that you love to forget the pain until the crisis passes quietly and creates you as a newborn man like a stone of diamond that shines and become brighter and charming as it is refined.

Muneera Essa is a 20-year-old Jordanian girl living in Qatar and a cancer survivor. Before I got diagnosed with cancer, I used to play all kinds of sports, with a particular preference for running and gymnastics. Among my family and in my school, I was always known as the troublemaker. I had just reached puberty when I was first diagnosed with cancer. Like any other girl at that stage, I underwent changes in my body and personality. I was no longer that loud, troublesome kid; instead, I turned into this quiet, shy teenager. When I went to Jordan that summer, when my journey with cancer started, my relatives were all quite surprised with the new person I became. They all told me that I looked all pretty and grown up now.

After a long night of family talk and catching up with friends, I slept. But I could not sleep throughout the night, as a very severe pain in my right leg woke me up and had me crawling to my parents’ room for help. All the doctors I had seen told me it was probably a cold or a muscle cramp.

Not long after I returned to Qatar though, I found out that the pain had returned. In school, the administrators did not believe me when I told them that I was not feeling well and that I needed to go to the hospital, as they knew what troublemaker I used to be. Even when my mother took me to the hospital, the doctors never pointed out anything serious, and nothing was ever shown from the MRI scan results. One day, I went to an orthopedic clinic, where they checked on me and transferred me to Hamad General Hospital, where I stayed as an in-patient for two weeks, during which they took a biopsy twice. After the second biopsy results confirmed the diagnosis, a doctor, whose very red face I cannot forget, approached me, kissed my forehead, and asked to talk to my mother privately outside.

When my mother returned, her eyes were all puffy and her face red. When I asked what was wrong, she told me that she was happy that I was finally discharged. I did not buy it, but I had no reason to believe my mother would lie to me, so I went with it. She did not tell me that I had cancer; instead, she told me I had a sebaceous cyst. My parents did not want to accept what was coming, so they took me to Jordan to meet the doctor. They had hoped it was all some nightmare we would wake up from, but my diagnosis was no. It was real, ugly, but real. The doctor in Jordan confirmed the diagnosis and told my parents that the treatment plan was the same as in Qatar. Having lived all my life in Qatar, my parents knew I would not want to stay away from my home and my friends unnecessarily, so we returned to Qatar. All the while maintaining the act my mother performed when she first knew about my tumor. I understand today that all my mother did to try to protect me from the dreadful truth. But like all truths, this one had to come out eventually.

I had an appointment scheduled at National Center for Cancer Care and Research “ NCCCR “

in Qatar. Coming for the meeting and reading the title, “ NCCCR ” on Al Amal hospital’s building freaked me out, as I have always associated “cancer” with death. I immediately looked up at my mother in shock, asking her why we parked in front of a cancer care center. However, my mother told me with a calmness that, to this day, still dazzles me that this was a big hospital with many specialties and was not limited to oncology. My mom, as usual, came to meet the doctor individually before I went in to ask him not to disclose any information on my diagnosis to me. However, the doctor deemed it necessary that I know and get informed about my diagnosis and prognosis. At the time, I had no clue what the word “tumor” even meant. We stayed for more than seven hours that day in the hospital, and all I could see was the darkness of what my future would bring me.

My case was quite rare. I was the first minor in the Middle East to get the type of pelvic cancer I had. I was also the youngest patient in National Center for Cancer Care and Research “ NCCCR “, as children up to 13 years old are treated at Hamad General Hospital, and I had just turned 14 at the time. The course of treatment was 18 sessions of chemotherapy over two years and a half. I underwent an excruciating 24-hour pelvic exenteration surgery to remove diseased tissue from the lower body cavity. I stayed in the intensive care unit for two weeks after surgery. When they pulled the last needle off me in preparation to discharge me, I did not know what I was supposed to be feeling or saying. I stared at my mother, who was gazing at me. We both smiled widely, with tears filling our eyes and not even a single word coming out of our mouths. What I felt at that moment was indeed something beyond words. Leaving the hospital and returning home for the first time in what seemed like forever, I was the happiest person in the world. I was contemplating the landscape out of the window with so much joy. Although it was a barren desert, it was a beautiful world in my eyes.

Despite all the excruciating pain that I felt during the entire course of my treatment, I was always determined to fight. I wanted to fight cancer and win against it. Because of that, I did not give in. I wanted to live for those who believed I could and even more so for those who thought I could not. I wanted to show everyone that I was stronger than cancer and that cancer was not just another synonym for death. My family was very supportive of me. They stood by me all the way. My mother and one of my sisters even wanted to shave their hair to make me feel better, but I did not allow them to, of course. However, many people did not think I would make it out alive; they believed it was a lost battle. Many people I loved gave up on me and never even asked how I was doing, as they knew the answer would be one that was unfortunate or tragic to hear. This made me all the more stubborn and determined to fight and win. The day I left the hospital cancer-free, I declared to my mother that I was intent on being a new person, living a new life.

I remember I was expected to retain my ability to walk after one year, but it only took me six months to walk again. My hair grew back. I developed a new, healthier lifestyle. I met new people and became more social. My cancer journey was painful yet insightful. I have come a long way and learned many valuable lessons. I am thankful for everything that has happened to me. I am a resilient person because of it. I am now in my first year of college, turning 20 soon. I am hopeful for what the future holds. Whatever is coming my way, I believe I have the strength and stamina to face and beat it because my cancer made me stronger.

I could name three traits that helped me in my journey: determination, patience, and strength. And if I could give any cancer patient one piece of advice, it would be never to let those three attributes go and never to give them up because the battle against cancer, without a doubt, is not easy. It is hard. That being said, brave warriors need to give themselves a reason to live and need to hold on to the things that help them endure. I also want to remind all cancer patients in the world that they are the strongest people I know who exist and that they are the champions. Cancer is another enemy we can fight if we leave fear aside and face it with strength and hope. I have beaten cancer, and so can you, and you, and you! Let this evil monster not take us from ourselves and our loved ones. Let us all fight cancer and win the battle with “determination, patience, and strength.”

“I was stronger than cancer”; these were the first words of Mrs. Marwa Adel, who expressed her journey with breast cancer.

A strong 39-year-old lady defeated breast cancer in a battle that lasted for two years. “I was stronger than my disease.”

Marwa came to Qatar in 2006 after she got married at the age of 25. She was blessed with her three kids. In April 2014, they were moving houses, and she was involved in the process. One day, when she was taking a shower after an exhausting day, she performed a breast self-examination. This is when she felt a ball-like mass in her right breast. After discussing it with her husband, he recommended she get it checked at the health center.

In the health center, the physician assured her everything was fine and gave her an imaging appointment at Hamad General Hospital. With her concern, she went to a private hospital for the checkups. On the same day, she did lab tests and mammography, and she was instructed to come back in 2 days for the results. After two days, the physicians told her that the mammography showed “something,” and she needed to do a biopsy for the mass.

Before the biopsy, Marwa was not bothered by the mass at all. “It was not painful, absolutely no symptoms,” Marwa said. However, after the biopsy, she started to feel pain at the biopsy site. “The pain was unbearable … I had to wait with it for one week to follow up with the biopsy results.”

“Three days before the follow-up appointment, the doctor called me to come and talk with him. I knew this meant the results were out.” Marwa went to the doctor with her husband. She did not know what the results might have to say about her mass, but she was not anticipating what the doctor would tell her, nor did she want to hear it. “It is cancer,” the doctor uttered.

Her immediate reaction at that point was to ask about the nature of cancer: “What does this mean? Benign or malignant?” “Malignant,” the doctor said. She did not know how to react after that, and she did not control her rush of emotions. Her husband held her hands tightly to calm her in a way she could not forget. Her husband asked about the next step, to which the doctor replied that another biopsy was needed to determine the extent of the malignancy. It was done on the same day.

Marwa was booked to do the surgery the following week. In the days before the surgery, she slowly accepted the shocking news and came to terms with her diagnosis. “I kept saying alhamdulillah (Thank God) repeatedly, and I accepted God’s fate. I was spending more time with my kids playing with them and kissing them as if I would not be able to see them again after the surgery.”

In the surgery, they removed the mass: 3 cm around its margins and 14 axillary lymph nodes. Reconstructive breast surgery was also done, and she was discharged the following day. The doctors told her that she needed chemotherapy. Since chemotherapy costs are significant in private hospitals, they referred her to the National Center for Cancer Care and Research (NCCCR) to continue her treatment. By that time, she fully accepted her diagnosis; “it’s like any disease, anyone can be susceptible, and it can come and go.”

In NCCCR, Marwa started her chemotherapy. She took six cycles, with two different types together. Before beginning chemotherapy, the doctor informed her that she might or might not lose her hair, and her response was, “it is okay; I do not care about my hair.” Right before her first session, she decided to cut her hair short; to this day, she keeps the hair with her. The first night after her first chemotherapy session, she played with her short hair and noticed it falling off. Then she decided to shave her whole head. She said, “my hair is going to grow back and even better than before. I am not sad about it.”

Marwa finished her last chemotherapy session in December later that year. A workup revealed a new tumor in the same place as the old one. She was referred to a surgeon at Hamad General Hospital. After reviewing her records, the surgeon told her that during his time, the whole breast needed to be removed, followed by an implant insertion. She proceeded with that. After her second surgery, the doctor told her that the other unaffected breast needed to be removed prophylactically due to the aggressive nature of her tumor. She did her third surgery and then scheduled a fourth plastic surgery on her breasts. After that, she started radiotherapy sessions.

For radiotherapy, she had 36 sessions in total. She used to have her session daily, except on weekends. After her 2^nd or 3^rd radiotherapy session, her implant site started to get inflamed, with lots of pus oozing out from the breast. She went to the ER, where they told her she probably had a hospital-acquired infection, and they quarantined her for ten days. During these ten days, an ambulance would take her from her quarantine to NCCCR  to receive her radiotherapy. After ten days of quarantine, she was moved to the medical city, where she continued receiving her therapy for 1.5 months.

Since her implant got infected, the doctor recommended changing it to a silicon-based implant. However, even after changing the implant, the new implant got infected. The 2^nd infection episode was more severe, and she stayed in the hospital for one month. The doctor informed her that her body was not accepting the implants, and they needed to be removed. She underwent another surgery to remove the silicon-based implants, but nothing else was placed. That was at the end of 2016, and she has been doing fine since then.

During hardships, having support from close people can be crucial, and, in some occasions, the patient can be the one offering support to people close to them. Luckily, Marwa had huge support from her parents, who supported them too. Before starting her chemotherapy sessions, she worked on getting her parents from her home country to visit Qatar. They knew nothing about Marwa’s diagnosis at that time. Right before starting chemotherapy, she informed her mother. She was shocked since no one in the family had breast cancer before, let alone having it at a relatively young age. Marwa was the one trying to comfort her mother.

In the same way, the mother came with Marwa to her first chemotherapy session to support her. Marwa’s mother was shocked by how strong Marwa was. The mother used to ask her, “where did you get this strength?”

Marwa’s husband was also very supportive of her. He supported her during her disease, and they came closer. “He showed lots of love, and I appreciate it.” Sometimes after her chemotherapy sessions, she used to be fatigued and in pain. She secretly would see her husband crying alone for her, even though he acted tough in front of her. She would crack jokes to make him feel better and show her strength. He told her, “you were the one supporting us, not us supporting you.” She says his new relationship with her makes it difficult for her now to do or say anything that would upset him.

After everything was over, she says that she turned a new page in her life. This experience has made a huge change in her life; she became a different person. She did not use to have a job, but now she works. She used to spend most of her time at home, and now she is more social and takes her kids out more often. She says her faith and trust in God’s decisions are huge; she became closer to God. “I have changed my lifestyle for the best. Nothing in life should make anyone feel devastated. Even if something sad happens, I turn it into something happy. I refuse to allow myself to feel sad.”

Feras’s story is not simply the story of one child. Feras’s story is one of family, resilience, and kindness in the face of childhood cancer. This is a story of how he, along with his mother, father, and brother, faced the diagnosis together and overcame what they believe is a test from God.

Feras is a gentle, shy 8-year-old. He’s in the 2nd grade, and his favorite subject is math. When he grows up, he wants to be an astronaut. He loves playing with his brother and is the best goalie on the team. His mom says he has always been a gentle soul, but you can see his excitement as he teases his older brother.

The story began when Firas had spiked fevers every few weeks that would then subside on their own. On Friday, February 26th, 2016 (his father remembers the day vividly), they took Feras to the pediatric emergency center because he had developed a stiff neck along with his fever. Blood was drawn, and Feras was kept for observation overnight.

From February to October 2016, Feras went into and out of the hospital. He suffered through the side effects of the chemotherapy and steroids and developed a central line infection that required four procedures to place and replace the port. His final chemotherapy doses needed him to sit still in bed for 36 hours straight.

While the doctors expected an infection, the blood results revealed otherwise. A doctor came in to explain that the blood results showed an alarming abnormality in the number of white blood cells; the body’s major line of defense against infection with Leukemia was among the most likely explanations. Feras was transferred to Hamad General Hospital. With Feras on his lap in the ambulance, Ashraf, Feras’s father, tried to make sense of his son’s diagnosis, hoping it was all a mistake.

The family made it to Hamad General Hospital, where they were taken to the hematology ward. Touria, Feras’s mother, immediately noticed the children with IV lines and those who had lost their hair, and the sight of it all overwhelmed her. Within a day, their world was turned upside down.

Feras and his family also remember the good parts of their journey. They remember a special doctor, Dr. Salwa, who explained their son’s condition most kindly and delicately. She sat beside Feras in his hospital room as she went through the course of treatment to come, which included months of chemotherapy, multiple lumbar punctures and scans, and surgeries to place a central line. She listened to their questions. She listened to Feras. Having received bits of information throughout the evening, she finally put the family at ease. “She was a person before she was a doctor, and it showed in her actions,” Ashraf explained.

They remember the speed at which they received a diagnosis and treatment for their son here in Qatar, for which they are grateful. Anywhere else, getting a hospital bed and starting treatment would have taken weeks, if not months.

They remember the social worker who helped them with the financial burden of the diagnosis. Ashraf recalls from his colleague soon after the diagnosis that the treatment would cost him thousands of riyals. The financial burden added colossal stress. However, this burden vanished once their social worker connected them with the Qatar Cancer Society. “Qatar Cancer Society relieved 75% of the stress we were going through,” Ashraf explained, and “we could truly focus on helping our son get better, rather than the logistics of providing his day-to-day treatments. We are so grateful for their help,” he continued.

And they remember the people who stood beside them–the colleagues, neighbors, and family who went out of their way to help care for Feras and his brother, Tamim. They helped cover shifts for Touria when she missed work, cooked for Tamim when no one was home, and took turns visiting the hospital. They made spending two very lonely Eid holidays a little better while Feras was scheduled for chemotherapy. It was only through visits with friends, who came with food and high spirits, that they could get through this.

Now, four years on, Feras remembers a few details. He remembers making a friend at the hospital, a young girl with same cancer. He also remembers the toys his brother would bring him, the pain of the central line, and spending a lot of time in a hospital bed. But even as he describes these painful memories, he is a cheerful young boy. When his mother tears up, he whispers to her: “Don’t let sadness destroy you, be patient.”