Every Second Counts: The Race to Save Little Antoś

When Antoś was born, his parents believed their world was perfect — a healthy baby, a loving home, and dreams as bright as his first smile. But less than a year later, that happiness was shattered by four devastating words:

“Your son has cancer.”

It began innocently — a routine checkup, the kind every parent schedules without worry. But the doctor’s face changed as he felt a lump in the baby’s small belly. More tests followed, more waiting, more fear. Then came the diagnosis:

neuroblastoma — an aggressive childhood cancer that develops from immature nerve cells and spreads rapidly.

“We couldn’t believe it,” his mother said softly. “How could this happen to a child who was just learning to crawl, to smile, to say ‘Mama’?”

A Nightmare No Family Should Face

Since that day, the hospital in Szczecin has become their second home. Every beep of a monitor, every drip of an IV, every sleepless night has been part of their new reality.

Antoś has already endured three rounds of chemotherapy. Each one has left him weaker, his tiny body bruised and trembling. But even after all that pain, the tumor hasn’t shrunk. It’s grown. It’s spreading.

The scans paint a cruel picture:

An 11-centimeter tumor on the adrenal gland,

Metastases in the bone marrow and lymph nodes,

The tumor pressing dangerously against the liver, kidney, and vena cava

— the main vein that carries blood to the heart. 

“It’s inoperable,” the doctors said quietly. “Surgery could be fatal.”

Running Out of Time

The medical team in Szczecin has done everything possible. Now, the only hope lies in

Krakow, where specialists are ready to begin immunotherapy — the next and possibly last line of defense.

But time is slipping away. The tumor is growing every day, and the journey itself is risky. Antoś must be flown to Krakow

with a medical escort, a costly and urgent operation.

His parents barely sleep. His mother hasn’t left his side in weeks. His father splits his time between work, the hospital, and their older son,

Natan, who waits at home, confused and heartbroken.

“Every time we video call, Natan asks, ‘When is Antoś coming home?’” his father says. “We tell him soon — because we have to believe it.”

The Fight of Their Lives

The treatment ahead will be long and uncertain. Doctors in Krakow will attempt a combination of chemotherapy and immunotherapy, hoping to stop the tumor’s growth. If that fails, the family’s only option will be to seek help

abroad, in specialized oncology centers in Germany or Spain — at costs that can reach hundreds of thousands of euros.

For parents already drowning in medical bills, that number feels impossible.

But giving up is not an option.

A Plea for Help

“This is our child’s life,” his mother says through tears. “We’ll sell everything, give up everything, just to see him grow up. But we can’t do it alone.”

Every contribution — every dollar, every share, every prayer — brings them closer to hope. Each donation is another moment, another breath, another chance for Antoś to keep fighting.

He is only a baby — too young to understand the tubes, the pain, the endless hospital walls. Yet even in his weakest moments, he clings to his parents’ fingers and smiles, as if to remind them:

I’m still here.

A Family’s Unbroken Faith

They live hour by hour, waiting for the call that could change everything. The call that says a plane is ready, that a bed in Krakow is waiting, that treatment can begin.

Until then, their message is simple:

“Please, help us save our son. Help us bring him home to his brother. Don’t let time run out.”

Because sometimes, saving a life isn’t about miracles — it’s about people. About hearts coming together for one child.

💙 Help give Antoś his chance to live. Every second counts — and every act of kindness brings him closer to tomorrow.

A Godmother’s Wake-Up Call: The Hidden Pain Behind a Teen’s Phone

It started with what should have been an ordinary parenting moment.

Bean’s mom—concerned after watching a news segment about dangerous apps for teens—asked her daughter if she could see her phone. It wasn’t the first time. Parents across the country occasionally check in, not out of suspicion, but out of love and caution. Usually, Bean was quick to hand it over, unbothered.

But this time was different.

As soon as she passed the phone to her mom, Bean began to cry. Not just a few tears—an outpouring of emotion that made her mother’s heart race.

Alarmed, her mom braced herself for what she might find. Instead of scrolling, she asked gently, “What is it, sweetheart?”

Through her tears, Bean confessed: “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been getting bullied. There are so many bad texts from kids at school on there. I know how much you love me and how much you already have on your plate right now, so I didn’t want you to know and be angry.”

Her words revealed a heartbreaking truth. This wasn’t just about bullying—it was about a daughter trying to shield her mother from more pain. Even while suffering silently, Bean’s first instinct was to protect the person she loved most.

For her godmother, hearing this story brought both pride and anguish. Pride, because Bean’s heart is so kind and selfless. Anguish, because no child should have to hide their hurt for fear of adding to a parent’s burdens.

And yet, this is the reality for many children and teens today.

Behind glowing screens, in texts and group chats, words can cut as deeply as knives. The cruelty of peer bullying doesn’t always leave bruises or scars that parents can see. It hides in silence, in deleted messages, in forced smiles at the dinner table. Too often, children choose to bear that pain alone—afraid of disappointing, worrying, or angering the adults they love.

Bean’s story is a reminder that sometimes, the bravest thing a child can do is simply admit they’re hurting. And sometimes, the most important thing a parent can do is ask—not with suspicion, but with genuine openness—what’s really going on.

It also serves as a sobering call to all of us: to check in with the young people in our lives. Not just to ask about grades or sports, but about friendships, group chats, and feelings. To remind them that they are not alone in their struggles. And just as importantly, to remind them that kindness matters, because for every child being bullied, there may be another child doing the bullying.

The godmother put it best in her reflection: “Who do I need to teach a lesson in bullying to?” Her words echo the frustration of countless adults who would do anything to protect their children from cruelty. But they also point to a larger truth—that the responsibility for change doesn’t fall on victims alone. It falls on all of us to create cultures of empathy, accountability, and compassion.

In the end, this moment wasn’t just about a phone. It was about trust, honesty, and the unshakable bond between a mother and her daughter. Bean’s tears carried pain, but also love. They carried a reminder that sometimes, children suffer in silence not because they don’t trust us, but because they love us too much to add to our burdens.

The lesson for all of us is clear: ask. Listen. Check in. And above all, remind our children—whether they’re the ones hurting or the ones causing hurt—that kindness and honesty are always the better choice.

Because no child should feel the need to cry alone, hiding behind a phone screen.