LazyGamer142 @rahmansteam - Twitter Profile

Karen is getting older, but there’s still no progress. With every passing day, the window for gene therapy becomes more critical. The earlier she receives it, the better the chance of preserving the abilities she still has. Send this tweet to organizations you know.

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Who to follow

Way of Life

@Wayoflife789

I help content creators boost their reach and visibility Let me handle the promo while you focus on creating. 📩 DM me to get started or ask anything!

Thiccalous Cage

@Odestroyher

Gamer, soccer lover, wolfdog owner// Star Wars, Horror, LOTR and Anime FC Barcelona/Washington Capitals/USA

virendra suryawanshi

@Virendra0698

outcome based AI services for home services biz in US. magic on nights & weekends @anomalysims - wearable AI slug (currently). start dialing ↓

RahmanSteam retweeted

Muhammad Smiry 🇵🇸

@MuhammadSmiry

23 days ago

Israel killed many Palestinians today in Gaza including children. No one talks about it anymore. But they do when it’s trending!

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RahmanSteam retweeted

Muhammad Smiry 🇵🇸

@MuhammadSmiry

about 1 month ago

Karen needs your help. @aljalilauae Share her story.

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RahmanSteam retweeted

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@Al__Quraan

about 2 months ago

🕋

Al__Quraan's tweet photo. 🕋 https://t.co/DWBbl5rmdl

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RahmanSteam retweeted

Muhammad Smiry 🇵🇸

@MuhammadSmiry

2 months ago

Reminder: Israel is still bombing Gaza. Today one Palestinian killed and many injured. When will this end?

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RahmanSteam retweeted

Muhammad Smiry 🇵🇸

@MuhammadSmiry

3 months ago

Reminder: Gaza is still being bombed, daily.

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RahmanSteam retweeted

Dr. Ezzideen

@ezzingaza

4 months ago

There are moments in Gaza when suffering becomes so ordinary that people stop asking for solutions. They begin asking only for the smallest relief. A little less pain. A child who sleeps through the night. When I entered the clinic that morning, I noticed a young woman carrying a baby so small that I could not tell whether the child was a newborn or simply made tiny by hardship. When her turn came, she gently placed the baby on my desk and said: “I want any cream you have.” Any cream. Not a specific medicine. Not a particular treatment. Just anything. She uncovered the baby and showed me the severe rash covering much of the child’s fragile skin. “I treat the baby with whatever free creams I can find in clinics,” she explained. “Anything helps.” As she spoke, I noticed something else. The baby was not wearing a diaper. Only pieces of cloth. I asked why. “I can’t afford diapers,” she replied calmly. “I wash these and use them again.” Then she added that they were living in a tent and that her husband had suffered a serious foot injury and was unable to work. “I’m not asking for much,” she said. “I only want a cream.” But what caught my attention most was not the rash. It was the malnutrition. The baby was severely underweight. The kind of malnutrition that is visible before any examination even begins. So I asked the mother whether she had noticed. She nodded. “Yes, I know.” Then she said something I cannot forget: “When the baby gets older, things will get better.” Not because she truly believed it. But because hope was cheaper than treatment. And treatment was something she could no longer afford. That was the moment that broke me. Not the tent. Not the poverty. Not even the illness. But the fact that this mother had lowered her expectations so much that she no longer dreamed of proper medical care, diapers, or adequate nutrition. She came asking for the smallest thing she could imagine. A tube of cream. Any cream. Something that might make the baby hurt a little less. The baby could not have been more than five months old. Too young to understand war. Too young to understand poverty. Yet already carrying both on that tiny body. There is something profoundly cruel about a world in which a mother’s greatest hope for her child is no longer a better future. Only a little less suffering tonight. #WoundedGaza

ezzingaza's tweet photo. There are moments in Gaza when suffering becomes so ordinary that people stop asking for solutions.

They begin asking only for the smallest relief. A little less pain.

A child who sleeps through the night.

When I entered the clinic that morning, I noticed a young woman carrying a baby so small that I could not tell whether the child was a newborn or simply made tiny by hardship.

When her turn came, she gently placed the baby on my desk and said:

“I want any cream you have.” Any cream. Not a specific medicine. Not a particular treatment.

Just anything.

She uncovered the baby and showed me the severe rash covering much of the child’s fragile skin.

“I treat the baby with whatever free creams I can find in clinics,” she explained.

“Anything helps.”

As she spoke, I noticed something else. The baby was not wearing a diaper. Only pieces of cloth.

I asked why.

“I can’t afford diapers,” she replied calmly. “I wash these and use them again.”

Then she added that they were living in a tent and that her husband had suffered a serious foot injury and was unable to work.

“I’m not asking for much,” she said.

“I only want a cream.”

But what caught my attention most was not the rash.

It was the malnutrition.

The baby was severely underweight. The kind of malnutrition that is visible before any examination even begins.

So I asked the mother whether she had noticed.

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Then she said something I cannot forget: “When the baby gets older, things will get better.”

Not because she truly believed it.

But because hope was cheaper than treatment.

And treatment was something she could no longer afford. That was the moment that broke me.

Not the tent. Not the poverty. Not even the illness.

But the fact that this mother had lowered her expectations so much that she no longer dreamed of proper medical care, diapers, or adequate nutrition.

She came asking for the smallest thing she could imagine. A tube of cream.

Any cream.

Something that might make the baby hurt a little less.

The baby could not have been more than five months old.

Too young to understand war. Too young to understand poverty. Yet already carrying both on that tiny body.

There is something profoundly cruel about a world in which a mother’s greatest hope for her child is no longer a better future.

Only a little less suffering tonight.

#WoundedGaza

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RahmanSteam retweeted

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@Al__Quraan

3 months ago

There are some souls Allah loves so dearly that He chooses Jannah for them before they ever experience the trials of this world. May Allah reunite every grieving parent with their child in the highest ranks of Jannah. آمين