يمكنك تعذيب نفسك بالقلق أو حرر نفسك بالتوكل على الله
“You can torture yourself with worry, or free yourself by trusting Allah.”
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
NASA
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Cosmic Funnies
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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Sade Olutola
Claire Keane

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cherry valley forever
Game of Thrones Daily
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

blake kathryn

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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
hello vonnie

⁂
d e v o n

JVL

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@ma-bediii
يمكنك تعذيب نفسك بالقلق أو حرر نفسك بالتوكل على الله
“You can torture yourself with worry, or free yourself by trusting Allah.”
life is way too short to spend it at war with yourself. beating yourself up over and over about every little thing will not magically make everything better. you must stop with the negative self-talk. it is getting you nowhere. what happened, happened, and you can’t erase that. no amount of self-hatred can. so today, start over. choose to move forward with your life. you are not a bad person, or a failure, or a disappointment. you cannot go back in time and change things. what you can do, is change the future. you can get through this. your pain won’t last forever. give yourself time to heal. take life day by day. every day you survive is a step forward. be patient with yourself. growth is painful. be proud of yourself for how far you’ve come. push through. keep fighting. this too shall pass.
لو سمعت صرير أقلام الملائكة وهي تكتب اسمك من الذاكرين،، ل مِت شوقاً لقول لا إله إلا الله ' ابن القيِّم 🌷🍃🍃
من حياء المؤمن ألا يحرج أحدا ، لا يخجله ، لا يضعه في زاوية ضيقة ...
- محمد راتب النابلسي
اللهم لا تجعلني ممن يرون في الذنوب فخرا ويجاهرون بها ويرون في الطاعة عيبا فلا يقومون بها
“سئل الإمام الشافعي رحمه الله: كيف يكون سوء الظن بالله ؟ٰ قال : الوسوسة والخوف الدائم من وقوع مُصِيبَة وترقب زوال النعمة. كلها من سوء الظن بالرحمن الرحيم.. قُل للذي مَلأ التشاؤمُ قلبَه ومضى يُضيِّقُ حولنا الآفاقـا سرُّ السعادةِ حسنُ ظنك بالذي خلق الحياةَ وقسَّم .. الأرزاقا . اللهم إنَّا نسألك حسن الظن بك وتمام النعمة ودوامها وحسن العاقبةفي الأمور كلها. طابت جمعتك وأسعد الله أيامك”
—
وكيف أهرب منه؟ إنُّه قَدرَي
هل يملكُ النهرُ تغييرًا لمجراهُ؟
يكسرك غالي و يجبر كسرك غريب.
How sad is it that a loved one breaks you and a stranger mends you.
“ربما أسوء لحظاتنا تلك التي نكتشف فيها أننا أشخاص عاديون، لا نثير إعجاب أحد ولا يأبه العالم لنا، لا يميزنا شيء و مؤهلون تماماً للرفض، لحظة تتكسر صورتنا الذهنية عن أنفسنا، أوهام التفرد فى الطفولة، مجاملات الأصدقاء التي كنا نأخذها بجدية، أحلام اليقظة لعنها الله التي طالما داعبت لاوعينا المسكين، لحظة نكتشف أن تبريرات الفشل لم تعد تجدي نفعا ويبدو أننا مضطرون الآن للاعتراف، حسنا أنا أعترف و لكن لا بأس، ربما يكفينا القليل من البشر، فقط القليل ممن يؤمنون بنا، خصوصيتنا لهم تغنينا عن العالم كله، وجودنا المتفرد في حياتهم يكفينا عناء اثبات جدارتنا للجميع ، نظرة الحب فى أعينهم المفتوحة تكفينا كل العيون المقفلة، دائما ما كنت أحب جملة لنيكولاس سباركس فى إحدى رواياته يقول فيها ..“أنا شخص عادي أمتلك أفكار عادية و أحيا حياة عادية لن يبقى لي أثر و قريباً سينسى العالم اسمي لكنني أحببت بكل ما يملكه قلبي من طاقة وبالنسبة لي، لطالما كان ذلك كافياً.””
—
من أظهر لنا خيراً أحببناه، وواليناه عليه وإن كانت سريرته بخلاف ذلك، ومن أظهر لنا شراً أبغضناه عليه، وإن زعم أن سريرته صالحة.
-عمر بن الخطاب
أما مظاهرنا وصورنا فنحن لم نختر ذلك، ولحكمةٍ ما مُنح كل أحدٍ نصيبه من الجمال، لكننا لسنا هذه الملامح ولا هذه الأجساد! نحن الشعور الذي نتركه في الآخرين، وهذا هو المكيال.
Allahu Akbar (Takbir) - الله أَكْبَر
Subhan'Allah (Tasbih) - سبحان الله
Alhamdulillah (Tahmid) - الحمد لله
La ilaha ilallah (Tahlil) - لا إله إلا الله
La hawla wa la quwwata illa billah (Hawqala) - لا حول ولاقوة إلا بالله
Imam Hussein shrine in Karbala, Iraq
Alen Palander
@airpixels.
Coming full circle
In the midst of this coronavirus pandemic, as our positive cases continue to climb (and our unresulted tests do too), I had a patient today come in for something unrelated.
He’s an older gentleman, in his 80s. He had some abnormal lab tests last week - a double-digit bilirubin, and a quadruple-digit alk phos - for which his cardiologist stopped his amiodarone. He saw his PCP today who saw the labs, looked at his newly yellow skin, heard his complaints of fatigue and poor appetite (but no pain), and had him directly admitted to the hospital - to me.
For those med students reading, he sounds like a textbook case - pancreatic cancer.
For me, he sounds like my mom. She was admitted to the hospital for back & abdominal pain and weight loss. Her GI doctor called me, a state away in my last year of med school, and told me to come to the hospital. I get there, 3 trains and a taxi ride later, and see the hospitalist has left her number. I call from my phone, and with the poor reception in the hospital, all I can make out is “pancreatic malignancy.” My mom is sitting on the bed, a foot away, and I don’t know if she knows this yet. So I ask, “Is that what you think this is?” and hear a definitive “yes.”
I hang up the phone, and turn to my mom, and ask her, just like I was taught in med school, “What have you been told about what’s going on?”
She tells me, “They think it’s something with my pancreas, it might just be inflammation.”
I tell her, “Mom, they think it’s cancer.”
She cries. I cry. Neither of us stops crying for quite a while. Her first question for the oncologist is, “Will I make it to her match day and graduation?”
They tell her yes.
They were 50% right.
Between all the chemo, the nausea and vomiting and diarrhea, the begging her to eat, the intolerable side effects, the second line chemo, the failure of the second line chemo, and finally, finally the decision to do home hospice - and all the horrors we dealt with therein - I still think the most awful part was having to tell my own mother that she had cancer, because none of the doctors who saw her were willing to do so.
And now, almost two years later, I look at the man in front of me. He knows he’s doing poorly - he described the last two weeks as “a steep decline, like a ski slope.”
I ask him, “What have you been told about what’s going on?”
He tells me, “My doctor thinks it’s something with my liver or my pancreas. Some kind of rubin?” - I smile, say, “Bilirubin” - “Yeah, that’s it! Anyhow something with that so he wanted more tests. I don’t know if it’s my liver, or if it’s cancer, or what.”
A small part of the knot in my chest unwinds. I explain, the best I can, about how there’s something blocking the flow of bilirubin, which is why it backed up. “It could be a stone from your gallbladder, but usually you’d have pain then; that’s why we’re worried it might be cancer, maybe in the pancreas, blocking the bilirubin and causing these symptoms. That’s why we want to get this CT scan, to see what’s going on, and it can show us if there’s a cancer.”
He nods - he has an excellent primary care doctor, and he wasn’t blindsided by the news. He starts to ask a question, then stops himself, and says, “I’ll wait til we have more answers. Thank you.”
He’s here alone. We have a 0 visitor policy because of the Covid19 pandemic. I’m wearing a mask, hiding half my face, because I’m worried I’m asymptomatic but infected and don’t want to spread it to any of my patients.
But at least I told him the truth. I didn’t keep him in the dark, or dance around the diagnosis.
I’ll see him in the morning. We’ll have some answers then. And he’ll have more questions, and I’ll give him all the answers I can. I can’t do anything else.