Fighting for Sylwia: A Little Girl’s Battle with Neuroblastoma.2176

Sylwia is only six years old, yet her life has already been marked by a battle no child should ever have to face.

She is a joyful, clever, and bright little girl. Her smile has always been the sunshine of her home, her laughter the music that filled every quiet corner. But one day, an uninvited and cruel guest entered her life—a malignant tumor known as

neuroblastoma.

For her parents, those words felt like a hammer striking their hearts. They had no warning, no time to prepare, no space to breathe before their world turned upside down.

It all began last year, on a day that should have been ordinary. Sylwia complained of back pain. At first, her parents thought it might be something small, something that children often feel and forget. But the pain did not fade, and instinct told them it was more serious.

They sought medical help, and from that moment, life changed forever. The doctor’s concern led them to the emergency room, and from there directly to the oncology department of the University Children’s Hospital in Kraków.

It was there, under the harsh light of hospital corridors and the steady hum of machines, that the devastating words were spoken: Stage IV neuroblastoma.

The tumor was not only in her abdomen. It had already spread, reaching into her bone marrow and her bones. Their precious little girl’s body had become a battlefield.

From that day forward, their family’s world narrowed into one focus: saving Sylwia’s life.

The fight began with a series of specialized tests, each one a step deeper into the reality of what lay ahead. Soon, Sylwia started chemotherapy. Seven cycles. Each one a storm of chemicals designed to destroy the cancer but which also drained her small body of energy and health.

Her parents watched her tiny frame hooked up to IVs, her bright eyes dulled by nausea, her laughter often replaced by quiet whimpers. Yet, even in the midst of it, she showed a strength that astonished them.

After those initial treatments, the doctors decided she needed high-dose chemotherapy. Stronger. More intense. It was the next weapon in a battle that felt endless.

And then came one of the hardest stages of all: an

autologous stem cell transplant. This meant using Sylwia’s own blood stem cells to help her body recover from the devastating chemo. It was supposed to give her a fighting chance, but it came with terrifying side effects.

Her parents will never forget those days.

Her mouth and esophagus burned so badly from the treatment that she could barely swallow. The pain was visible in every tear she shed, in every hesitant attempt to eat or drink. She needed blood transfusions multiple times, and every moment seemed to bring another medicine, another needle, another battle for her fragile body.

In November 2024, the doctors attempted surgery—a laparotomy with extended biopsy of the residual tumor. Her parents prayed that this would finally bring the breakthrough they longed for. But the outcome was not what they hoped.

The surgeons could not remove the entire tumor.

As if that heartbreak was not enough, complications followed. Sylwia struggled with her oxygen saturation and her breathing. For a week, she lay in intensive care, surrounded by machines and doctors fighting to keep her stable. Her parents lived in fear, clinging to hope, whispering prayers into the sterile air of the ICU, begging for their little girl’s life.

And yet, Sylwia endured. She came through the darkest nights once more.

Today, she continues her treatment journey. At the moment, she undergoes radiotherapy, each session requiring general anesthesia. For such a small child, even lying still for the treatments is impossible without it. And still, she faces it bravely.

The road ahead is still long. More therapies, more scans, more journeys to specialists in other cities. More uncertainty about what tomorrow will bring.

But through it all, Sylwia has grown in ways no six-year-old should have to. Her parents see it in her eyes, in the way she faces each procedure with quiet determination, in the way she no longer cries as quickly as before. She has matured beyond her years, not because she wanted to, but because life demanded it.

Her parents are unspeakably proud of her.

They call her their warrior. Their miracle. Their inspiration.

But behind that pride is a deep and unending fear. Because every trip, every hospital stay, every treatment carries immense costs. The fuel to travel. The nights away from home. The specialized medicines and therapies. The bills never stop coming. And though they would give the world for their daughter, they know they cannot do it alone.

They are fighting for Sylwia’s life, but they cannot fight this battle without help.

And so, they reach out with humility and hope. They ask for support—not for themselves, but for their little girl who deserves a chance to live. A chance to run and play. A chance to dream of a future that isn’t defined by hospital rooms and IV drips.

They believe in the goodness of people. They believe that kindness returns multiplied. They believe that every act of generosity, no matter how small, is a step closer to giving Sylwia the future she deserves.

Because Sylwia is not just a patient. She is a child with sparkling eyes and a sharp mind. She is a daughter who lights up her parents’ hearts. She is a little girl who loves to laugh, who loves life, who deserves to have a tomorrow filled with hope instead of fear.

Her story is not over.

It is being written every day—with each lab result, with each procedure, with each prayer whispered by those who love her. And with the help of people willing to stand beside her family, that story can one day end not in sorrow, but in triumph.

For now, Sylwia’s parents continue to fight. They hold her hand through every painful procedure. They wipe her tears, even when their own fall silently. They whisper promises that she will not face this battle alone.

They know the road is long. They know the journey is hard. But they also know that together—with love, with faith, with the support of others—they can carry Sylwia through.

Because she deserves more than survival.

She deserves to live.

And her parents will never stop fighting until that day comes.

💛 For Sylwia. For hope. For life.

Twenty Hours on a Feeding Tube: Zosia’s Battle Against the Odds.2152

Zosia’s Story – A Tiny Fighter Against All Odds

Childhood was never supposed to look like this for our little girl. Her first years should have been filled with laughter, discovery, and carefree joy. Instead, our daily life has become a constant struggle filled with uncertainty, fear, and endless battles to keep her alive.

From the very first seconds after her birth, Zosia’s fight for life began. She entered the world far too soon, a fragile preemie born at just the 28th week of pregnancy—three long months earlier than expected. We never imagined the nightmare that would unfold when labor suddenly started. Doctors could not promise us anything. They prepared us for the worst while we clung to a tiny thread of hope.

The delivery room filled with chaos as our baby girl came into the world weighing barely enough to fit in the palms of our hands. She did not cry. She did not breathe on her own. She was resuscitated immediately and placed on a respirator, where she would remain for 35 endless days. Watching our fragile daughter lying motionless, connected to countless tubes and machines, broke our hearts in ways words will never fully describe. She was so small, so defenseless, and yet fighting with every ounce of strength her little body could muster.

Despite the odds stacked against her, Zosia survived those critical first weeks. It felt like a miracle, but one that came with heavy consequences. Because of her extreme prematurity, her tiny body has been left with a long list of medical complications and developmental challenges that affect every aspect of her daily life.

Since her very first day, Zosia has lived under the watchful care of a team of specialists—neurologists, cardiologists, gastroenterologists, ophthalmologists, pulmonologists—doctors who monitor her fragile organs and fight alongside her. Each visit brings new concerns, new treatments, and sometimes, heartbreaking news.

One of the greatest struggles is feeding. Zosia cannot eat on her own. Every attempt ends in vomiting, pain, and exhaustion. Because of this, she is connected to a special feeding pump for 20 hours a day, receiving nutrition through a tube directly into her stomach and intestines, known as PEG–PEJ. The pump controls the flow of food, drip by drip, keeping her alive.

But even this lifeline brings risks. As she tries to play, laugh, and move like other children, the long cable from the machine can easily become tangled, even wrapping dangerously around her neck. It means she can never be left alone—not even for a moment. As her mother, I spend every waking second at her side, watching, untangling, ensuring her safety. The weight of this responsibility is crushing, but abandoning her is unthinkable.

Zosia also suffers from unexplained metabolic disorders that cause persistent vomiting and abnormal liver test results. No one can predict how her condition might evolve in the coming months or years. Each day feels like walking on a tightrope, knowing that the future could bring new, unpredictable challenges.

Despite all of this, our daughter’s spirit shines brighter than the pain. She is a tiny fighter, a fragile soul wrapped in strength we never knew could exist in someone so small. When she smiles—despite the tubes, the wires, the discomfort—our hearts are reminded why we keep going. Zosia’s smile is our light in the darkest of days.

But behind that smile lies an exhausting reality. Every day requires medical treatments, therapy sessions, and constant supervision. The cost of her survival is overwhelming. Specialized equipment like feeding pumps, suction devices, and monitors must be maintained and often replaced. Rehabilitation sessions, medical checkups, and therapeutic programs are essential if she is to have any chance at progress. Yet, each of these things comes with a price we cannot carry alone.

We have already spent months living in and out of hospitals, with nights blurred into days, and days filled with medical appointments. We have seen our daughter go through more in her short life than many adults face in a lifetime. She has endured procedures, tubes, injections, and examinations—yet she never gives up. And neither will we.

But we cannot hide the truth: we need help.