sharing this post to also add that this blog and fundraiser were just vetted by @90-ghost
This fundraiser has been made to help baby Yousef and his parents, Dima and Samer to be able to escape Gaza, not only for their own lives, but also to seek treatment for Yousef, who has been struggling with esophageal varices since May 2023, and needs life saving surgery that had to be postponed due to the attacks on Gaza. Please help share and donate!
in between having taken a large break from tumblr for reasons from my personal life, the last i had seen, Dima's campaign was barely at 15 000 Euro, and now, many days later returning here, i see her campaign is STILL in the 15k range. Please don't let her campaign stagnate any more. She has come a long way since July and sorely needs the money to provide care for her son Yousef. Help her in sharing this and other posts in her blog, and please, donate something if you are able to. she is 10k euro from her goal and needs the help to keep going.
Thank you very much; you have supported me throughout my journey in this matter. @whompthatsucker1981
However, I know that society is now filled with campaigns, some genuine and others fraudulent. I urge everyone to ensure they know where their money is going. In some cases, even $1 can make a huge difference.
Please, do not neglect Youssef. The time to open the border is approaching, and I am afraid I won't have enough money for his treatment, and I don't know the exact cost of his treatment and travel.
However, your support makes it easier for me and gives me hope that there are people who believe me.
Help a mother from Gaza and her son survive during these hard times.
I come to make an updated post about Dima and Yousef. They are a mother & son from Gaza, Yousef is in critical condition since he has varices in his esophagus, and with the lack of medical attention centres in Gaza it has been hard to keep him fully healthy or cure his illness. Here is Dima's campaign for evacuating Gaza and taking care of her son Yousef:
Writing these words has been one of the most daunting challenges I've ever faced. Findi… Kamel Shahwan needs your support for Help
19,955 euro raised out of 50,000, long term goal as of Nov 25. Please contribute by donating, and if you cant donate, at the very least you can reblog and share this post, along with Dima's campaign.
If you'd like to get in contact with Dima on this website, her account is @sameryousef5
Same amount reached from last update (19,955 out of 50,000 euro.) No donations in a whole day for Dima's campaign. Please dont let them suffer any longer and donate for the love of God and help this mother take herself and her son to safety. If you can't donate, the least you can do is reblog and share in other sites.
Amidst the Ruins of War and the Pain of Illness: A Mother's Journey to Save Her Son
One morning, the sun rose like any other day… but it wasn’t just another day.
It was Saturday, October 7th, and I woke up early, filled with hope and excitement, ready to head to my new job as a pharmacist — a dream I had long aspired to. I had landed the job just a week before the devastating war broke out. It was 5 a.m., and my responsibilities as both a mother and a pharmacist intertwined. I was preparing breakfast and lunch at the same time, getting clothes ready for my young son, Youssef, who was only 17 months old. We were supposed to go together to the nursery next to my workplace, where I had planned for an ordinary day, filled with work and life.
But fate had something different in store for us.
Suddenly... the missiles rained down.
Everything around us turned into smoke and terror. All the dreams I had painted for myself and my son’s future vanished in that moment. It felt like the world had crumbled around me. I called my manager, apologized for not being able to go to work, and told him I had no choice but to flee. Our home in East Gaza was no longer safe. From the experience of four wars and six escalations, we knew the west was usually safer.
As I hurried to pack up and prepare Youssef for the evacuation, I saw the fear in his little eyes. He looked at me softly, with the innocence of a child who had never known war, and asked, "Mama, what’s that loud sound?" How could I explain to him that it was the sound of destruction? I gently said, "Sweetheart, that’s thunder, the sky is going to rain."
But the truth was, the sky wasn’t going to rain anything but fire.
Youssef, my son, suffers from a chronic illness.
Just four months before this war, doctors discovered that Youssef had grade four esophageal varices, a serious condition. The only treatment was available in Israel. I had been taking him there for treatment with medical and security permits. His next surgery was scheduled for October 29th, but now everything was in turmoil.
We fled to the home of relatives in the west of the strip, trying to adjust to our new reality, gathering food and preparing ourselves for the worst. But the worst was yet to come. One day, on a Thursday, the house next to us was bombed, and the rubble fell on us. I screamed his name, searching for him through the debris. But God was merciful. Youssef emerged safely from the wreckage, and in that moment, I knew I would do anything to protect him.
The next day, came the order to evacuate from the north to the south.
My only thought was: How will I treat Youssef? How will I secure his needs amid this chaos? We fled to the central part of the strip, beginning a new chapter of suffering — finding food, water, gas for cooking. Everything became a battle.
Youssef couldn’t eat normally because of his illness. He survived on boiled eggs and fried potatoes, and I desperately tried to get him to eat some tahini to stimulate his appetite. With every bite he took, I exhaled a sigh of relief, knowing that my strength as a mother wasn’t just about feeding him but keeping him alive in the midst of lethal circumstances.
But time was not on our side.
Weeks passed, and his symptoms began to show again.
On December 17th, Youssef started vomiting blood. My heart jumped out of my chest as I rushed him into my arms and headed to the only central hospital. They did what they could with their limited resources, but they refused to refer him for treatment abroad, claiming his case wasn’t urgent enough. There were cancer patients, children with amputated limbs, and thousands of similar stories, all fighting for the same scarce medical attention.
But I wasn’t going to give up. We submitted the request for a referral and waited for our turn and a chance to travel, but the fear never left me.
Youssef, with his innocent nature, asks me every night, “Mama, when will we go back to our beautiful home?”
How do I answer? Do I tell him that our house no longer exists, just like everything else we lost? I would tell him, "Soon, my love, soon." He would then ask for his favorite green car. I promised him I’d buy him a new one when we found it, but each night he would fall asleep, and the car never came.
As I lived through this daily anxiety, the painful decision arrived.
My husband and I decided to sell everything we owned and borrow what we could so we could travel before the border closed and Rafah was overtaken. Travel was our last hope for Youssef’s treatment, but what we didn’t know was that fate was already reshaping our tragedy.
The border was closed, Rafah was completely destroyed.
The dream of treating my son now seemed unreachable. I watched him grow before my eyes, suffering — not only from his internal bleeding illness but also from the destruction that surrounded us from all sides. Every day, I see the pain growing in his innocent eyes, and I feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness, as a mother, as a pharmacist, as a human being, unable to save him from this nightmare.
I cannot describe the weight of the pain that resides in my heart now; Youssef, who should be playing and laughing, is living every day under the weight of his illness and the fires filling the skies above us. Every night, after his questions about his green car and "when will we go back home?" I try to stay strong, but inside, endless tears of helplessness flow.
I am fighting to keep my son alive, but each day, I see the hope slipping further away…
Writing these words has been one of the most daunting challenges I've ever faced. Findi… Kamel Shahwan needs your support for Help
I'm not sure why Tumblr keeps malfunctioning for me;
this is the fifth time in a row.
It won’t send comments, and it won’t allow me to send asks either. I don’t know what more I can do. After changing accounts so many times, my engagement has become nonexistent, and I can’t connect with friends.
I've lost the supportive followers I had, and now, there’s almost no support left for me and Youssef. Please, share my account widely and advise me on what I should do.
I know you’ve seen countless campaigns and may feel overwhelmed or even fed up with sharing them, But I still hold onto the hope that you might be able to support my family 😥🙏💔
my name is Samer, and I am from the city of Gaza. My beautiful home and thriving business were once symbols of a good life, but now, they lie in ruins due to the ongoing war. I am reaching out to share my story, hoping to find compassion and support for my little boy, Yousef.
Yousef is only 2.5 years old and suffers from a critical liver condition that causes sudden and dangerous bleeding, leading to him vomiting large amounts of blood. His situation is dire, and he urgently needs lifesaving treatment outside of Gaza.
His scheduled surgery in Jerusalem set for October 29,2023, was disrupted by the conflict, leaving us in a state of desperation. 💔😥
In the attached pictures, you'll see the stark reality of our life. There are images of our once beautiful home before and after the war, and photos of my nutrition supplements store before it was destroyed. I also included a picture of me being honored by UNRWA school, and the heartbreaking aftermath of the school being bombed.
Currently, we are living in a tent in a refugee camp, along with millions of displaced people, forced to endure the sweltering heat after being driven out of Gaza by the Israeli army.
Please, be Yousef's hero and make a difference. Share our story, spread the word, and help us find a way to get him the lifesaving treatment he despe rately needs. Your support can bring hope to family in these dark times.
