“The Fight for Adaś: A Desperate Family’s Battle to Save Their Son”.3303

The Fight for Adaś: A Family’s Desperate Plea for Help

In the small, quiet moments of our lives, we find ourselves constantly searching for answers, for hope, for the strength to keep going. But nothing could have prepared us for the relentless pain of watching our child battle a condition so severe, so unimaginable. Our son, Adaś, has been through more than any child should have to endure, and every step of this journey has been filled with both terror and hope. Now, we find ourselves in a heartbreaking situation where we need your help more than ever before.

Adaś was born in the most tragic of circumstances. When I went into labor, everything seemed normal, until the moment my water broke. Suddenly, things went horribly wrong. We called for an ambulance, but the birth was incredibly difficult. It became clear that Adaś was suffering from severe hypoxia, a condition in which his brain and organs were deprived of oxygen. The lack of oxygen was so prolonged that the consequences were expected to be catastrophic. When he was born, he showed no signs of life.

I screamed, my heart shattering, as the doctors scrambled to save him. It felt like time stood still. Yet, in the midst of the unimaginable, a miracle happened. Adaś came back to us, breathing again, thanks to the relentless efforts of the medical team. He was quickly transferred to the intensive care unit, where he spent the first three days of his life on a ventilator. After a long struggle, Adaś was transferred to another hospital, one that specializes in such critical cases, where he began his long road to recovery.

For the next several months, we fought every single day for Adaś’s survival. Slowly, he began to breathe on his own, but the road ahead was still fraught with challenges. His body was still frail, his mind still developing, and every day brought new difficulties. The most terrifying of these were the seizures. These violent episodes, which we had to watch helplessly as they ravaged his tiny body, have continued to worsen with each passing month. We took him to countless doctors and specialists, trying every possible treatment, every possible medication, but nothing has truly worked. The seizures keep coming, and with them, the damage to his fragile brain.

We were told by some that Adaś would never make it, that we should let him go. But as his parents, we refused to accept that fate. We refused to believe that our son’s life had no chance of improvement. We will never abandon him. He is our child, and we will do anything and everything we can to save him.

And then, a glimmer of hope appeared. After years of fighting, we found a clinic in Israel that offers advanced treatment. This clinic specializes in treating conditions like Adaś’s and has proposed a groundbreaking procedure that could change everything. The treatment involves a neurosurgical procedure to remove the source of his seizures using a robotic system called ROSA, followed by deep brain stimulation. This is a state-of-the-art approach that has given us a sliver of hope that Adaś could have a future free from seizures and pain.

However, the cost of this treatment is astronomical. We need more than 40,000 złoty to make this a reality, and after over a year of exhausting our savings, we simply don’t have that kind of money. We are at a loss. Without your help, this vital treatment may slip away from our grasp.

As a family, we have already sacrificed so much. We have fought for Adaś in ways that words cannot describe. Every day is a battle against fear, against uncertainty, and against the overwhelming sense that time is running out. But in the midst of all this pain, we have never stopped hoping. We believe that this treatment can give Adaś the chance he deserves to live a normal life, to grow up free from the constant threat of seizures.

Adaś turned one in March, but his condition remains critical. He is still plagued by seizures that leave him exhausted and at times, unrecognizable from the child he once was. He is in constant pain, and we are desperate for relief—for him, for us. But we cannot do this alone.

We are asking for your help. We are reaching out to you, our friends, our community, our fellow parents, to ask for your support in this time of desperate need. No amount is too small. Every donation brings us one step closer to giving our son the chance at a normal life.

Please, we beg you, help us save Adaś. Help us give him a future filled with love, laughter, and the chance to live without fear. Your support, whether through a donation or by sharing our story with others, means the world to us.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. Thank you for believing in Adaś, for believing in our family, and for giving us hope in the darkest of times. We will continue to fight for our son, and with your help, we know that we can give him the future he so desperately deserves.

Please, help us bring Adaś home.

“Carter’s Fight in the ICU: Holding On Through the Hardest Days”.1463

Carter’s Update: Holding On in the Hardest Hours

The hospital room was unnervingly quiet, the hum of machines filling the silence where laughter and conversation used to live.

 For days now, this room had become the center of Carter’s fight, every beep and flicker of the monitors carrying the weight of hope and fear.

Carter still isn’t stable enough to move for testing.

 His medical team has been watching him closely, assessing each breath, each flicker of response. The plan was to transfer him for further tests, to measure the damage in his lungs and the extent of his complications, but his fragile condition makes even the simplest movement a dangerous risk.

Yesterday, there had been a small glimmer of encouragement—he had responded more when his family spoke, his eyes flickering open, his hand twitching as if to say, “I hear you, I’m still here.”

But today, things are harder. His sedation had to be changed.

He kept coming out of it suddenly, restless and uncomfortable, his body fighting against the tubes and machines trying to keep him alive.

The doctors adjusted his medications, searching for the delicate balance between keeping him calm and protecting his fragile lungs, and keeping him aware enough to let his parents know he was still fighting.

Now, he isn’t as responsive as yesterday. It’s crushing for his parents to see—to lean over his bedside, whisper encouragement, and wait for the slightest sign of recognition.

But there’s a measure of comfort in knowing that he’s resting, that his body isn’t fighting the sedation as much as it was before. Sometimes, rest is the only way healing can begin.

Carter’s journey has been long, filled with moments of hope and moments of fear.

Going into transplant, the cancer was gone. That was supposed to be the hard part. The thought of being cancer-free felt like crossing the finish line of a brutal race. But what no one tells you is that the aftermath can be just as difficult—sometimes even more so.

Now, his family finds themselves caught in the cruel paradox of modern medicine.

The very treatments that gave Carter a chance at life are the same ones weakening his body, straining his organs, and stealing his strength. Each day, his parents ask themselves the same heartbreaking question: At what cost?

The monitors keep their steady rhythm, and nurses move in and out of the room, checking vitals, adjusting medications, writing down notes that mean everything and nothing to parents who just want their little boy back.

The outside world goes on—cars pass by on the street, people sit down for dinners, children play in parks—but inside this ICU, time feels suspended.

For Carter’s mom and dad, every minute feels stretched thin. They take turns holding his hand, praying silently, sometimes out loud. They whisper to him about home, about the toys waiting for him, about the friends who miss him, about how strong he has always been. They remind him of the laughter that used to fill their home, the way he lit up every room he walked into, the dreams he still has ahead of him.

It’s hard to measure progress when every day looks the same—machines, wires, nurses, whispers, and waiting. The smallest signs become victories. A squeeze of the hand. A faint movement of his eyelids. A moment when his oxygen levels don’t drop. These are the things his family clings to.

The doctors are doing everything they can. They speak carefully, with the compassion that comes from knowing the parents are holding on to every word.

 They explain the sedation, the medications, the risks of moving him too soon. They talk about “time” as if it’s both the enemy and the cure. Time for his lungs to heal. Time for the medications to work. Time for his body to find its way back from the edge.

But time is also the hardest thing for his parents to accept. Waiting feels like drowning, like holding their breath and not knowing when—or if—they’ll be able to breathe again.

And yet, in the midst of fear and exhaustion, hope refuses to die. Messages pour in from friends, family, and strangers around the world. People who have never met Carter but have read his story, who pray for him, light candles for him, and whisper his name into their own quiet moments.

His parents read these messages when the nights feel too long and the silence too heavy. Each prayer, each word of encouragement, is a reminder that they are not alone.

Carter’s story has already touched countless lives. He is more than just a boy in a hospital bed—he is a warrior, a fighter, a reminder of resilience.

His journey is proof of how fragile and precious life is, and how powerful love and community can be when the storm feels impossible to bear.

Tonight, Carter rests. His family holds on. The machines hum. The nurses keep watch. And prayers continue to rise, filling the room with a strength that can’t be measured on any chart.

No one knows what tomorrow will bring. Maybe he will be stable enough for testing. Maybe his body will show signs of healing. Or maybe tomorrow will be another day of waiting, another day of quiet whispers and unseen battles.

But one thing is certain: Carter is not alone. He is surrounded by love stronger than fear, by prayers stronger than despair, by hope stronger than uncertainty.

And as long as he is still here, as long as his heart is still fighting, his family—and everyone who has come to know his story—will keep believing in miracles.