Mohammed is dying in my arms... and I can't save him 💔
How does a father cope with the moment when he sees his child slipping from his grasp, suffocating in front of him, trembling, groaning in pain, while he can do nothing but cry? How do I bear Mohammed's gaze as he stares at me with eyes filled with fear, silently asking, "Father, why are you letting me die?" And I have no answer. All I have is my tears falling down his little face, as if they're an apology for not being a father capable of saving him.
My son is dying in front of me.His breathing is fading. His body is trembling. His eyes are fading.
And the doctors are looking at me with merciless looks: "Either surgery immediately... or prepare to say goodbye."
His goodbye? How can a father hear those words and live? How can I stand helpless and watch my child slip through my fingers, knowing there is a chance to save him, but it isn't mine?
Mohammed is suffering from severe lung infections, and his tiny body can no longer resist. He needs urgent surgery, but I am poor, destitute, and unable to afford life. How can money be the barrier between me and saving my child? How can I accept that disability is the reason I lose him?
I feel like I'm living an endless nightmare... trapped in a moment that repeats itself mercilessly, a moment in which I see him in pain, unable to do anything. Don't let me bury him, knowing that I could have saved him if only a compassionate hand had reached out to me.
Please, don't let him die.Don't let my shroud be in my little one's hands.Don't let his voice fade forever while you still have a chance to save him.
Every passing minute steals him further from me... every moment brings me closer to disaster. Any support, any sharing, any heart that moves to save him could mean the difference between life and death for my child.
💔 Please... Save Mohammed before his name is written among the departed... before this plea turns into an elegy. 💔
#MyChildIsDyingBeforeMyEyes
