Tala’s Second Chance: Fighting for Life Against All Odds

My name is Tala, and I am 20 years old. Just a short time ago, my dreams were the same as any other young woman’s: to study, to travel, to explore the world and fill it with plans, adventures, and laughter. But everything changed in a single moment. Today, my greatest dream is no longer about distant places or bright futures. My biggest dream is simply—to survive.

Not long ago, I heard words that turned my life upside down: “You have Hodgkin’s lymphoma.” Blood cancer. The diagnosis shattered me and my family. At first, I clung to hope that treatment in my home country would help. I underwent cycles of chemotherapy, determined to fight back with every bit of strength I had. But then the nightmare deepened. My body stopped responding. The doctors told me, with painful honesty, that they had nothing more to offer. The medicines I needed weren’t available there. My life could not be saved in my own homeland.

It is terrifying to realize your future depends on leaving everything you know behind. With my last ounce of courage, I left home and traveled to Israel, where doctors promised me one chance: a bone marrow transplant. It was my only lifeline, the only procedure that could save me.

But hope often comes with an unbearable price. The cost of surgery was staggering. My mother, a single parent raising me and my siblings, had no way to afford it. My father was absent from our lives, leaving us to face this fight completely alone. We were desperate, broken, and afraid. But we refused to give up.

So we turned to the kindness of strangers. We launched a fundraiser, asking the world for help. And then—something incredible happened. A miracle. Donations began pouring in. Words of encouragement from people we had never met lifted us up when we felt like falling apart. Thanks to your generosity, I was able to undergo the transplant. Thanks to you, I am still here today, breathing, writing these words. You gave me the greatest gift: a chance at life.

But cancer is cruel. Just when I thought I had overcome the worst, another obstacle appeared. The doctors discovered that the tumor had responded poorly to chemotherapy. On my PET/CT scan, a lesion was still visible. My fight wasn’t over. The medical team explained that I needed to begin immunotherapy—infusions every three weeks for two years, a total of 33 treatments. Each infusion is 200 ml of hope, but also a reminder that survival comes at a cost I could never bear alone.

The total cost of this treatment is over one million zloty. A number so large it hardly feels real. For me, it is unimaginable. For my mother, already stretched beyond her limits, it is devastating. And yet, without this therapy, the cancer will not rest. It will grow, it will spread, and it will try to take everything from me again.

I don’t want to surrender. I can’t. I’m only 20 years old. I want to live—not just exist. I want to laugh with my siblings, see the world beyond hospital walls, and feel the warmth of life instead of the cold fear of disease. Every infusion is a step toward that life. Every scan brings a new wave of anxiety, but also the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, the treatment is working.

I know what it means to rely on others. I know the humility of asking for help. And I also know the power of compassion, because your generosity has already saved me once. I am here today because of people like you—people who cared enough to give a stranger the gift of tomorrow. That is why I am asking again, with all the strength I have left: please, help me fight this battle.

I am not asking for pity. I am not asking for sympathy. I am asking for a chance. A chance to live, to love, to become the person I once dreamed of being. A chance to breathe without pain, to feel the sun on my face without wondering if it will be my last.

Every donation, every share of my story, every prayer whispered in my name brings me closer to life. You already gave me one miracle—I am here because of you. Please don’t let this be the end. I can’t say goodbye yet. Not now. Not when hope is still within reach.

My name is Tala. I am 20 years old. I am still here. I am still fighting. And with your help, I believe I can win.

With gratitude, hope, and love,

Tala Bezvoleva

Owen’s Fight: A 9-Year-Old Boy’s Battle With Leukemia

For most nine-year-olds, life is about playing soccer in the yard, racing toy cars across the driveway, and dreaming about heroes like Lionel Messi. But for Owen Gonzalez, those dreams are overshadowed by a reality far too heavy for a child his age.

On May 15th, Owen’s life changed forever. What his parents first believed to be a minor health concern soon revealed itself as something devastating: T-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, a rare and aggressive form of blood cancer. In that moment, childhood shifted into a whirlwind of treatments, hospital stays, and battles most adults could not endure.

Since his diagnosis, Owen’s days have been consumed by chemotherapy—a grueling process with no end in sight for another two and a half years. The treatments weaken his small body, leaving him exhausted and often in pain. His parents watch helplessly as their once carefree boy struggles to understand why his life looks so different now.

“Why can’t I just be a normal kid again?” Owen asks them, his words simple but weighted with heartbreak.

It is a question no parent can answer.

Some days, Owen manages a smile. He juggles his soccer ball, clings to hope, and reminds his family of the bright spirit that still shines within him. On those days, he is full of life, chasing joy wherever he can find it. But on the bad days, the toll of treatment is overwhelming. The nausea, the weakness, and the isolation weigh on him, and the tears fall. His parents can only hold him close, wishing they could carry the burden for him.

Yet through it all, Owen shows a courage that inspires everyone around him. His dream is simple, yet profound: to beat cancer, to lace up his cleats and play soccer again, to run freely through the Texas wind, and—one day—to meet his idol, Lionel Messi. Those dreams keep him going. They give him something to reach for on the hardest days.

His family, too, draws strength from his resilience. They see the boy who refuses to let go of hope, even when faced with impossible odds. They watch him fight, not just with medicine, but with spirit—with the determination to live, to play, and to be a kid again.

Owen’s story is one of struggle, but also one of inspiration. He represents the thousands of children each year who are thrust into battles against childhood cancers. His journey reminds us of the importance of research, awareness, and community support. More importantly, it reminds us of the extraordinary courage that can live inside a child’s heart.

For now, Owen and his family live one day at a time. Each morning brings its own challenges, but also its own victories—whether it’s a small smile, a quiet laugh, or a few minutes spent playing with his cars. Every moment matters. Every moment is proof that cancer has not taken away his spirit.

The Gonzalez family asks for prayers and support as they continue this journey. For Owen, encouragement from others becomes a shield, giving him strength when his own falters. For his parents, knowing they are not alone makes the impossible feel a little more bearable.

Owen’s fight is far from over. But with love, community, and his unshakable courage, he continues to move forward. He is a reminder to us all that even in the darkest battles, hope is never lost—and that sometimes, the bravest warriors are the smallest ones.