Children Cancer Stories by Rukh Yusuf - Blog # 259
I am Rukh Yusuf, Clinical Pharmacist, also specialized in Total Parenteral Nutrition and Bone Marrow Transplant. I have worked in the Pediatric Oncology unit of a public hospital. The mission of this blog is to bring to you the real-life stories of child patients suffering from cancer. Cancer is still a difficult disease to handle and treat. However, when it strikes the children, some so young that they cannot even speak, their agony is beyond expression and words. Let us pray especially for children suffering from cancer for early and complete remission. May Allah shower His Merciful Blessings upon them. Aameen.
There are days that divide life into two parts, before and after. For Asma Ali and her family, that day came quietly, without warning.
Asma is from Mardan. Her life was simple, familiar, and close to home. Like many families, their days moved around routine, school, meals, small conversations, and the comfort of knowing what tomorrow would look like. Nothing felt uncertain.
Until it did.
When Asma first started feeling unwell, it didn’t seem serious. These things usually don’t. A few symptoms, a few visits, some waiting. But slowly, concern replaced reassurance. The hospital visits became more frequent, the tests more detailed, and the waiting… heavier.
Then came the diagnosis.
Germ Cell Tumor.
For her father, Bahar Ali, it was not just a medical term. It was a moment that stayed still. Hearing that your child has cancer is not something anyone prepares for. It brings a kind of silence that is hard to explain. Questions come, but answers feel far away.
Asma may not have fully understood the weight of the diagnosis, but she understood enough. She could see it in her father’s face, in the way people spoke around her, in the sudden seriousness that entered their lives.
Treatment began soon after at KTH Peshawar under the care of Doctor Kashif Afridi, a very dedicated one. There was no time to dwell for too long. Decisions had to be made, and strength had to be found somewhere, somehow.
She went through six cycles of JEB chemotherapy, along with surgery.
Each cycle brought its own challenge. Chemotherapy is not just about medicines; it is about enduring what those medicines do to the body. There were days when Asma felt too tired to even sit up for long, days when eating felt like a task, and nights that passed slowly.
For her father, the struggle was different, but just as heavy. He had to be steady when everything felt uncertain. Sitting beside her during treatments, watching her go through pain he couldn’t take away, and still finding the strength to reassure her this is a kind of courage that often goes unseen.
There were practical difficulties too. Traveling from Mardan, arranging everything around hospital schedules, managing responsibilities back home, life did not pause, even when it felt like it should have.
But through all of this, they kept going.
What stood out during this journey was the consistency of care. Their doctor approached Asma not just as a diagnosis, but as a child who needed careful attention at every step. There was patience in decisions, clarity in guidance, and a quiet dedication that families notice even when nothing is said out loud.
That kind of presence matters more than it seems.
As the treatment continued, small improvements began to appear. Not dramatic changes, but enough to hold on to. In long treatments, hope often comes in small, almost unnoticeable ways.
And then, after months of effort, came a day that felt different.
17 September 2025.
The end of treatment.
It did not come with loud celebrations. Instead, it brought a deep, quiet relief. The kind where you finally breathe without realizing you had been holding it in for so long.
Remission.
For Asma and her father, it meant something simple yet profound—the chance to return to life without constant fear. The hospital visits became fewer. Conversations became lighter. The future, once uncertain, began to feel open again.
Since September 2025, Asma has been on follow-up. Today, she is doing well. There is a calmness around her now, a sense of normalcy slowly finding its way back.
But her story does not end with treatment.
It stays in the strength her father showed when he had every reason to break. It stays in the quiet resilience Asma carried through months of discomfort. And it stays in the effort of a doctor who showed up, day after day, for yet another patient who needed care, attention, and hope.
Not every story is loud.
Some, like Asma’s, are soft but they stay with you.
Prayers for these brave souls and their families who have to face this pain of cancer. May Allah make it easy for them. Aameen
