THE SHINE IN HAKIM’S EYE: A MOTHER’S FIGHT AGAINST THE UNSEEN
The First Sign — A Glimmer No Parent Should Ignore
I still remember the exact moment my heart first stumbled — the moment something inside me whispered that my little boy was in danger. It was early 2023, and the afternoon light was drifting gently through our living room window when I saw it: a strange yellowish shine reflected from Hakim’s eye. It was subtle, almost easy to dismiss, yet it didn’t feel right. A mother always knows. A mother always sees beyond what the world tells her to ignore.
Hakim was only six then — our youngest child, our calmest, the gentle soul of our home. He was the child who rarely complained, who found joy in the smallest things, who could turn even quiet days into warm memories. He laughed easily, loved deeply, and moved through the world with a softness that felt like a blessing. So when even his daycare teacher pulled us aside and said, “Something looks unusual,” the fear in my chest sharpened.
For days, that little shine haunted us. We searched online, hoping with all our hearts to find reassurance — something simple, something harmless, something that matched what we wanted to believe. But the search results did not comfort us.
The Words No Parent Wants to Read
“Cat’s eye reflex,” we read.
“Possible eye cancer.”
I remember staring at the screen, refusing to breathe for several seconds. It didn’t feel real. The words felt too heavy, too foreign, too terrifying to belong to our little boy. Eye cancer? That couldn’t be Hakim’s story. Not him. Not our sunny, smiling six-year-old.
Doctors in Yogyakarta examined him carefully. They were gentle, thorough, and honest with us, explaining that Retinoblastoma — a rare eye cancer — often begins quietly. It starts in the part of the eye that helps children see, growing slowly and silently until one day a light catches it just right and reveals what has been hiding beneath the surface. Many parents don’t notice it early. Many children show no pain until the cancer has grown too large.
The Diagnosis That Broke Us
When the doctor finally said the signs strongly pointed to cancer and recommended removing Hakim’s eye, our spirits collapsed. I felt the room tilt, my breath thin, my heart aching in a way that didn’t feel survivable. We asked about options. We begged for alternatives. But at that point, there were none — not if we wanted to save his life.
The months that followed felt like living in two worlds at once. On the outside, Hakim continued life as normally as he could. He still laughed, still played, still tried to pretend that everything felt the same. But we could see the change. His eye grew more sensitive to light. He squinted more. He shielded his face from the brightness he once loved. And we? We tried everything — ointments, warm compresses, gentle prayers whispered late at night.
But nothing stopped the slow, steady worsening.
When Pain Arrived, Everything Changed
In April 2024, everything shifted.
That was when the pain began.
At first it was occasional — a wince, a tear, a small cry he tried to hide. But pain has a way of unraveling even the bravest hearts, especially when the body behind it is so small. By September, when we returned from Umrah, the decline was frighteningly fast. Hakim’s body weakened to the point where he spent weeks unable to be active. His little legs, once always running, now trembled. His smile faded more often. The swelling around his eye worsened, and the pain became a shadow that lived with us daily.
There are moments in parenthood when you feel helpless, but nothing compares to holding your child as he cries from pain you cannot fix. No medication, no home remedy, no whispered prayer could stop the hurt. All we could do was cradle him and hope for guidance — hope for a miracle.
A Door Opens in the Darkest Moment
And then, unexpectedly, hope arrived through another family.
A dear friend connected us to a parent whose child had survived the same illness after receiving treatment in Singapore. Their story felt like a door opening — a lifeline thrown into the storm we had been drowning in. For the first time in months, we felt the air clear around us. If another child had survived, then maybe — just maybe — our Hakim could too.
But the cost terrified us.
Treatment abroad meant bills we had never imagined facing.
Still, what choice did we have?
When it is your child’s life on the line, fear becomes smaller than love.
Singapore — The Place Where Answers Finally Came
In December 2024, we arrived at NUH Singapore, exhausted but full of hope. It was there, under the careful hands of specialists who examined every detail of Hakim’s eye, that everything became heartbreakingly clear.
Hakim had Stage 3B eye cancer.
The tumor was very large.
And while it had not yet spread to the rest of his body — Alhamdulillah — it was serious enough that he needed urgent life-saving treatment.
The specialists didn’t waste a single moment. They moved swiftly, mapping out a plan that would give Hakim the highest chance of survival. He underwent chemotherapy. He underwent enucleation — the removal of the eye that could no longer be saved. He endured proton beam therapy. And through it all, he carried himself with a courage that humbled us.
Some days he cried.
Some days he was too tired to walk.
Some days the world felt impossibly heavy.
But even on those days, Hakim remained gentle, brave, and patient. He allowed the nurses to work. He trusted the doctors. He held our hands tightly, and somehow, even as he suffered, he reminded us to breathe, to hope, to fight harder.
The First Rays of Recovery
Alhamdulillah, after months of traveling, treatment, and painful recovery, Hakim made strong progress. His later test results brought relief that felt like rain after a long drought. But the journey is not over. Cancer does not simply disappear; it must be watched, monitored, guarded against.
Hakim still needs regular MRIs to ensure the cancer has not returned.
He needs adjustments to his prosthetic eye so he can grow comfortably and confidently.
He needs continued follow-up care with the doctors in Singapore — specialists who understand his condition better than anyone else and who have walked beside him through every step of this long battle.
A Miracle in Motion: Hakim Returns to School
And yet, in the midst of all this, a miracle has unfolded quietly in our home.
Hakim has begun going back to school again.
Not full days — not yet. His energy isn’t strong enough, and his body still tires easily. But on selected days, he puts on his uniform, takes a deep breath, and walks through the school gates with a mixture of excitement and pride. The first time he went back, I stood there watching him, feeling something warm and overwhelming rise in my chest.
When he came home that day, he was exhausted — but smiling.
A real, bright, genuine smile.
It was more than a milestone.
It was a glimpse of the childhood cancer tried to steal from him — a childhood he is slowly, bravely reclaiming.
What Hakim’s Journey Has Taught Us
Hakim’s journey has taught us many things: that early signs matter, that awareness can save lives, that hope sometimes arrives through strangers, and that a child’s strength can surpass even the deepest fears of a parent. But most of all, it has taught us the power of community — of people willing to help, support, pray, and stand beside a family fighting the unthinkable.
Hakim is still healing.
He is still fighting.
But he is here.
He is alive.
And every day he returns a little more to the world that loves him.
