The Day Everything Changed
The Sunday before it all happened was one of the best we’d ever had as a family. We are a family of five—Mom, Dad, and our three children. Fareedah, our eldest, is 11 years old. She has a 10-year-old sister and a little brother, just 4. We spent the evening grilling, watching movies late into the night, and enjoying ice cream and cookies. It was carefree and joyful, especially knowing the next day was a bank holiday.
Monday was the May bank holiday—a day that would soon be etched in my memory as one of the most dreadful of my life. Normally, I’d take the day off, but my company had given us the option to work from home, even on bank holidays. So I decided to work that monday.
I spoke to my husband briefly, who was away on a business trip. We caught up on what we’d had for dinner the night before and our plans for the day ahead. I asked Fareedah to take the trash out since Monday was collection day, and she did so without complaint.
A little while later, Ameerah, our younger daughter, came to me, clearly worried. “Mom, Fareedah’s in the bathroom throwing up,” she said. “I asked her what’s wrong, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. You should come.”
I rushed downstairs and found Fareedah in the bathroom, vomiting. I asked if she was in pain, but her response was unintelligible. My concern deepened. I asked how she felt, and though she tried to stand, her words were still garbled. As she stood, she suddenly collapsed backward and began to convulse.
Her sister let out a scream that pierced the air. Fareedah wasn’t responding to her name. In a panic, I called an ambulance and ran to our neighbors for help.
Everything after that is a blur. I can’t even remember who came to help, but somehow, we started performing CPR. All I know is we kept going, over and over. The fire department arrived first, followed by the police and then the ambulance.
By the time we were en route to Temple Street Children’s Hospital, Fareedah had regained consciousness, though she was still confused and disoriented.
Two days later, we received the news that would shatter our world—Fareedah had a brain tumor, and it needed to be removed immediately. The surgery was just the beginning. As we waited for the biopsy results, I tried to stay hopeful, but nothing could prepare us for what came next.
A week later, we were told she had Grade 3 ependymoma. It was cancerous. I’ll never forget the crushing weight in my chest when I heard those words.
Since that day, we’ve been navigating the journey of treatment and recovery. Throughout this ordeal, the Gavin Glynn Foundation has been a beacon of kindness and compassion. They reached out to us without ever having met us, offering support in ways we could never have imagined. They provided tremendous financial relief, covering travel expenses for treatment and supporting our entire family. Their generosity has been a lifeline.
We are forever grateful for the work they do and the love they’ve shown us. Our lives have changed, but we’ve found hope in the darkest of times, thanks to their unwavering support.
