❤️‍🩹 A very important update as I prepare for another spinal surgery

After more than 30 years of spinal problems, I am preparing for another major surgery with gratitude, purpose, and trust in Allah.

As-Salaam-Alaikum my dear sisters and brothers.

I want to share a personal update about my health and about the difficult road that now lies ahead of me.

First, I need to thank you.

Thank you to every person who is a member of The North Star.

Thank you to everyone who has donated to my work and to our projects serving the people of Gaza. Your support has allowed us to keep showing up for people who are suffering, and it has sustained me personally in more ways than I can adequately express. I do not take any of it—or any of you—for granted.

For more than 30 years, I have lived with serious spinal problems.

They began when I was just 15 years old, after I was assaulted by bigots and ultimately needed three spinal surgeries. Then came the brutal car accident in 2003. And now, after all these years, I am facing another major chapter.

My body has rejected the titanium discs that were implanted in my spine. They will have to be removed because they are now literally destroying the bone in my spinal column. I have now been told that I need a four-level spinal fusion—a pretty rare and serious operation with a major recovery ahead.

I will see one more expert this coming week. After that, I will begin preparing my heart, mind, body, and family for the surgery and for everything that will follow.

I am not frightened.

I am sober about what is in front of me. I understand its gravity. I know this will be difficult. The pain I am already experiencing is almost too much to bear on some days. At times, I need Allah not simply to help me through the day, but through each hour, each minute, and sometimes each individual moment.

But Allah has never abandoned me—not for one second.

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us that no fatigue, illness, sorrow, hurt, or distress afflicts a believer—not even the prick of a thorn—without Allah using it to remove some of our sins.

That does not mean the pain is easy. It means the pain is never meaningless. Allah sees all of it, and not one moment of suffering endured with faith is ever wasted.

Allah sees our pain. He sees the suffering that nobody else witnesses. He knows the pain we struggle to explain and the private moments when merely continuing requires every bit of strength we have. And I believe with my whole heart that, for those who turn toward Him, Allah does not waste any of it. He can use our suffering for our benefit in this life and reward us for it in the next.

I would never romanticize pain. I hate this pain. I would not wish it on anyone. But I am also deeply grateful to Allah for the person He has formed me into through everything I have endured.

My own experience with pain has made me more sensitive to the pain of others. It has softened my heart. It has helped me recognize suffering even when people cannot put it into words. It has shaped my life’s work and my determination to stand beside people who have been wounded, abandoned, oppressed, or forgotten.

So much of my heart for people in pain comes from the fact that I understand pain so intimately.

At the same time, this experience has left me infuriated all over again by the American insurance industry. We can hardly call it a healthcare industry when so much of its power is devoted to determining what care it will and will not cover.

I am spending more money on health insurance than I have ever spent in my life. Yet even with that enormous expense, I am still forced to confront the denials, restrictions, gaps, and maddening calculations of a system that too often places money between human beings and the care they desperately need.

It is cruel. It is dehumanizing. And it is wrong.

Yet even as I experience that anger, I remain conscious of how many medical options are still available to me. I can see specialists. I can obtain detailed imaging. I can consult surgeons. I have access to medical technology, pain treatment, and the possibility of a complex operation and recovery.

And that reality makes me think constantly of my sisters and brothers in Gaza, including many of my dear personal friends there.

So many Palestinians have been brutally wounded. Many are living with catastrophic spinal injuries as severe as—or even worse than—my own, but without access to the specialists, operating rooms, medications, rehabilitation, equipment, and technology available to me.

Some know exactly what treatment they need, but cannot receive it. Others endure unimaginable pain without adequate medication. Hospitals have been destroyed or overwhelmed. Doctors have been forced to attempt the impossible with almost nothing.

My awareness of their suffering does not erase my own pain, but it gives my pain perspective. It deepens my gratitude to Allah, strengthens my commitment to this work, and reminds me why we must continue serving people in Gaza with everything we have.

We must never accept a world in which lifesaving medical care is treated as a privilege—whether that care is denied by an American insurance company or made impossible by siege, destruction, and war.

As I prepare for what comes next, I am asking you to pray for me.

To my Muslim sisters and brothers, please make sincere du‘a for me and my family: for wisdom and clarity as I make these decisions, for the physicians and medical teams who will care for me, for a successful surgery, for protection from complications, and for a complete and lasting recovery.

To my friends of other faiths, and to those who may not practice a faith at all, I welcome your prayers, your love, and your hopes for healing. Your compassion means more to me than you know.

And please continue praying for—and standing with—the wounded people of Gaza. Pray for those suffering in hospital beds, tents, and damaged homes. Pray for those whose injuries cannot wait. Pray for the physicians and nurses working beyond exhaustion. Pray for the families caring for loved ones without the medicine or equipment they need. And continue helping us serve them.

I do not know every detail of the road ahead. But I know that Allah already sees the entire road. He knows every difficult day, every painful night, and every moment of healing before I reach it.

That is enough for me.

Alhamdulillah in ease. Alhamdulillah in hardship. Alhamdulillah in every condition.

May Allah use this chapter for my benefit in this life and in the next. May He allow it to deepen my compassion rather than diminish it. And may He return me to this work with even greater tenderness for every person living in pain.

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for supporting The North Star, my work, and our projects in Gaza.

We will continue, insha’Allah.

I love and appreciate each of you.

Your friend and brother,

Shaun