Ali

I want to tell of a dear friend of mine, whom I call my Brother. His name is Ali.

I am adding this post to my medical section too, because Ali became my “Brother” because we both share the same disease of Tarlov Cysts.

I believe that his story might help others who suffer from this medical condition, find gratitude in their own circumstances, as it has for me.

He was an Iraqi dentist under Sadam, and when he was at work one day, his whole family was killed by an American attack. He was young then, in his 20’s, fresh out of college. The bombs killed his parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews… Everyone. He was the only one left.

He ended up in a refugee camp in Jordan, for about 7 years, and that’s how we met online.

He suffers from the neurological disease that I have, but even though he could never get treatment himself, he would go to the camp computer every week and spend his time in the support group, helping other members by reading radiology reports and images.

Eventually he was told that he had to go back to Iraq. There was nowhere else in the world for a single man of fighting age to go, no matter who he knew or how hard everyone in the support group who knew him, tried to find him a new home.

It devastated all of us, and he had to stop going online, because in Iraq he was part of the wrong political party, and sect of Islam. He fears for his life constantly, while suffering with the same pains and symptoms that I have.

He’s been mostly in hiding for the last several years, without any family. 

He did get Covid in 2020 and ended up in a coma for 5 weeks. When he arrived at the hospital, he was found by one of the doctors who was an old friend that had been in Medical School with him.

Before he entered the coma, we talked about eternity and our Heavenly Father. We talked about meeting each other when we both get to “Paradise”. We said goodbye, but I told him that he wasn’t going to die! 

Ali gave his friend my information as his “Sister, Next of Kin” and they kept me updated daily. Thankfully he survived but his life circumstances did not improve.

In all of these years I have never heard a bitter word escape his mouth. He refuses to let us send him money or any relief, which breaks my heart, but we’ve come to a place of peace with it. He tells me that just having my love is enough…

My whole family has adopted him in their hearts too, and he them. My mother is particularly special to him because he misses his mother so much. He will send her music videos in Arabic, with subtitles in English, that talk about the love of a Mother and how special the Mother is in the heart of her son.

It often feels so wrong for me to share with him the stories of my health improvements, and about the successes and even struggles that my family faces, but he tells me that he wants to hear. 

He wants to live vicariously through us. It truly breaks my heart but I can endure my discomfort if it brings him comfort. I will do whatever he asks of me, because he is the strongest man I’ve ever known.

He has every reason to hate others, particularly Americans, but he has only cried out for peace, and displayed true love. 

At times I can feel his hopelessness but he keeps hanging on. He moves from place to place, always in hiding, yet he finds a way to message me at least every couple of weeks.

He has been one of my Life Teachers! He has been my Reality Check! Whenever I would feel self pity in my suffering I would remind myself of my blessings. 

He is a modern day hero and not many people know that he exists.

His name is Aljubari, but we call him Ali!