There are moments in life when time seems to stop—not because everything is peaceful, but because everything suddenly becomes fragile. For Yuraimi, that moment came when his four-year-old son, Muhammad Aqra Rizki, fell ill with what appeared to be an ordinary fever. It was the kind of sickness every parent has seen before, the kind you treat with hope, rest, and the belief that tomorrow will be better. No one could have imagined that this small fever would mark the beginning of a devastating journey into fear, uncertainty, and a battle no child should ever be forced to fight.
At just four years old, Aqra should have been discovering the world with endless curiosity—running across playgrounds, laughing freely, and learning life through joy. Instead, his childhood has been interrupted by neuroblastoma, a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Today, his world is confined to hospital rooms, medical equipment, and long nights filled with whispered prayers and silent tears.
When a Fever Became a Nightmare
The first signs appeared in November 2024. Aqra’s fever refused to fade, lingering far longer than it should have. Soon after, his stomach began to swell unnaturally, and his once-bright eyes started to bulge—a frightening change that no parent is prepared to witness. Doctors initially suspected a severe infection, something treatable, something temporary. But as tests continued and scans revealed the truth, Yuraimi’s world shattered.
Aqra was diagnosed with Stage 4 neuroblastoma.
The tumor, positioned dangerously behind his eyes, pressed against delicate structures in his small body. Movement became painful. Play became impossible. Even simple acts—sitting up, eating, smiling—required effort and endurance far beyond his years. Overnight, Aqra went from an energetic child to a fragile patient, fighting a disease that threatened not only his health, but his future.
A Hospital Room Where Childhood Paused
Hospital rooms have a way of stealing normality. The sterile walls, the beeping monitors, the constant flow of doctors and nurses—all reminders that life has changed. For Aqra, this room replaced playgrounds and bedtime stories. For Yuraimi, it became a place of endless waiting, hoping, and heartache.
Each day, he sits by his son’s bedside, holding Aqra’s small hand, feeling its warmth and weakness at the same time. There are moments when Aqra looks up at him with eyes full of confusion and pain—moments when no words can possibly explain why this is happening. All a father can do is stay close, whisper love, and promise strength even when his own feels like it’s fading.
Chemotherapy soon began. Round after round, intense and exhausting, it drained Aqra’s energy and appetite. His body grew weaker, his smiles fewer. Yet somehow, within that tiny frame, a quiet resilience remained. Even on the hardest days, Aqra found the strength to offer a faint smile—a gesture that carried more power than any medicine.
Hope Comes With a Heavy Price
After months of grueling treatment, doctors offered a glimmer of hope: CAR-T cell therapy. This advanced and experimental treatment has shown promise in targeting cancer cells more precisely, offering a chance where conventional methods may fall short. For Yuraimi, those words felt like oxygen after months of drowning.
But hope, in this case, came with a devastating reality.
The cost of CAR-T cell therapy exceeds SGD 170,000—an amount unimaginable for a family already struggling under the weight of medical bills and lost income. In order to care for Aqra, Yuraimi had to leave his job. Today, he works as a food delivery driver, earning just enough to survive day to day, nowhere near enough to fund a treatment that could save his son’s life.
For a father who has spent his life trying to provide, this burden cuts deep. It’s not just financial—it’s emotional. The feeling of wanting to do more, of needing to do more, but being trapped by circumstances beyond control.
Strength Found in Small Victories
Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty, Aqra continues to fight in his own quiet way. His bravery reveals itself in moments others might overlook—when he takes a few steps after months confined to bed, when he eats a little more than yesterday, when his eyes light up at the sound of his father’s voice.
These small victories keep Yuraimi going. They are reminders that Aqra is still here, still fighting, still dreaming in ways only a child can. In those moments, the hospital walls fade, and hope takes their place.
Yet no family should have to face this battle alone.
A Father’s Wish, A Child’s Future
In the quiet hours of the night, when Aqra finally sleeps, Yuraimi reflects on the dreams he once held for his son—dreams of school days, scraped knees, laughter, and growing up strong. Now, his wish is simpler but far more urgent: to see Aqra free from pain, to watch him step outside the hospital, to hear his laughter fill the air once more.
The future remains uncertain. Without the treatment, time becomes an enemy. With it, there is a chance—a chance for healing, for childhood reclaimed, for life beyond hospital walls.
This is not just a story about illness. It is a story about a father’s unwavering love, a child’s quiet courage, and the fragile power of hope. It is a reminder that behind every diagnosis is a family fighting not just for survival, but for the right to dream again.
And as long as Aqra continues to fight, his father will stand beside him—holding his hand, carrying the weight, and believing that somewhere ahead, there is a tomorrow where this story turns toward healing, light, and life.