BY USMAN MOHAMMED, JANUARY 08, 2026 | 11:29 PM
On 26 August 2025, I accompanied my sister, Aisha Arafat Mohammed, to Amrita Hospital in India for a life-saving heart surgery. It was a journey built on faith, sacrifice, and the overwhelming support of kind-hearted individuals from different states and countries, including as far as China, who contributed in cash and in kind toward her healing. What followed, however, was an experience I never planned for—one that tested my strength in ways I could never have imagined. Alhamdulillah, through many ups and downs, we overcame it not by our own power, but by the mercy of Almighty Allah.
My sister had been battling heart complications for over ten years, enduring repeated hospitalisations and constant medical care in Borno Nigeria. Her surgery in India marked a turning point in her long struggle. By Allah’s grace, the operation was successful, and preparations were made for her discharge. But just as hope was at its peak, my own health suddenly failed.
I fell seriously ill and was hospitalised in the same facility where my sister had just undergone critical surgery. I spent one week in the hospital, including five days on admission. The pain was intense and unexpected. During that difficult period, it was my sister—fresh from surgery—who became my source of comfort. Despite her fragile condition, she was the one who stayed awake with me, ensured I took my medication, and gently woke me for Fajr prayers when the time came.
Concerned about her recovery, doctors advised that we should not stay together, warning that my illness could affect her. As a result, her discharge was delayed, and we were separated. For two painful days, I could not see her. We communicated only through video calls, which deepened my anxiety and emotional distress.
My most frightening moment came when I reluctantly contacted a hospital staff member—later discovered not to be a doctor—to ask about facilitating my sister’s discharge. His response shattered me. He told me to calm down and focus on getting well, claiming I was battling a liver problem and that discharging my sister could put her at risk. The words struck fear into my heart. My thoughts spiralled: Is this the end? If I die here, who will take care of my sister? Who will take her back to Nigeria?
That night, I did not sleep. Fear and uncertainty consumed me as I waited anxiously for the results of several medical tests. In the midst of that darkness, a close friend, Mr. Khalil, reached out. He reassured me, encouraged patience, and even recorded a video solely to calm my fears. His support meant more than words could express.
Determined to know the truth, I approached one of the doctors directly and asked her not to hide anything from me. She calmly explained that aside from malaria fever, there was nothing wrong with me. The following day, the test results confirmed her words—everything was normal. Alhamdulillah, relief washed over me, though my heart still longed to see my sister by my side.
After persistent pleas to the doctors on both sides, permission was finally granted for Arafat to join me under strict medical supervision and social distancing rules. The moment she arrived, we forgot every restriction. We embraced with tears, smiles, and gratitude to Allah.
From that moment on, my sister took full charge of my care. Despite still being on medication and under close monitoring, she showed remarkable resilience and courage. She monitored my condition closely, consulted doctors whenever my pain increased, managed my medications with precision, and even knew the timing of my injections before the nurses arrived. She ensured I ate properly, reminded me of prayer times, and stood by me through fever, headaches, vomiting, and weakness.
Her presence brought me peace, and my recovery accelerated. Strength slowly returned, especially after a visits from Nigerian friends studying postgraduate courses in India, including Usman and his friend, who came with fruits, encouragement, and prayers. Their visit rekindled my energy and gave me the confidence to request my discharge.
This experience taught me the true meaning of sacrifice, sibling love, and unwavering faith. When strength failed, Allah provided help through people, patience through trials, and healing through hope. What began as a journey for my sister’s survival became a shared lesson in gratitude, resilience, and the power of faith. Alhamdulillah for everything.
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