“The Little Warrior Who Refused to Give Up – Ignaś’s Fight for Life”.2282

“The Little Warrior Who Refused to Give Up – Ignaś’s Fight for Life”

They say that some children are born with the strength of angels — tiny bodies carrying the courage of giants.


Ignaś is one of those children.

Even before he took his first breath, his parents already knew that life would test him in ways no child should ever be tested.


During pregnancy, doctors delivered the news that shattered their hearts: their unborn son was gravely ill.
They were told not to expect him to live.
But against all odds, against every prediction and statistic, their little boy fought for what is most precious — life.

Born into a Battle

When Ignaś entered the world, he was not greeted with cries of joy, but with the sound of machines.
His tiny body was covered in wires, his skin pale and fragile.


From the third day of his life, he was connected to a dialysis machine — a lifeline that has kept him alive ever since.

He was born with complete kidney failure.


His kidneys never developed properly, and they could not cleanse his little body of toxins.
From that moment on, survival meant constant medical intervention — endless hospital visits, procedures, and sleepless nights.

But that wasn’t the only battle he had to fight.
Because of a rare condition called anhydramnios — the absence of amniotic fluid during pregnancy — his lungs did not fully develop either.


Doctors spoke in careful tones, afraid to promise anything.
His parents clung to hope, even when every word from the medical charts seemed to predict the opposite.

And yet, through all the wires, all the tubes, all the machines — there was always one thing that gave everyone hope.


A smile.
A tiny, stubborn smile that kept appearing on Ignaś’s little face, as if he was telling the world, “I’m not done yet.”

Two Strokes Before His First Birthday

As months went by, things began to slowly improve.
The treatments started to work.
His parents dared to dream that maybe — just maybe — they could finally celebrate his first birthday without fear.

But fate had other plans.
Before that milestone could come, disaster struck.

Ignaś suffered not one, but two ischemic strokes.
He was less than a year old.
The strokes left him with bilateral paralysis — both sides of his body were affected.

For weeks, his parents lived in a haze of fear and disbelief.
They watched the child they had already seen fight so many battles lie motionless in a hospital bed.


Machines beeped softly, nurses whispered, and the world seemed to shrink to the small square of his room.

His father remembers touching his son’s tiny hand and whispering, “Please move. Just once. Please.”


And slowly — miraculously — he did.

Rehabilitation and the Long Road Forward

Months of rehabilitation followed.
Day after day, exercise after exercise, his parents stayed beside him, cheering for every little victory — a finger twitch, a lifted arm, a smile.

Over time, the left side of his body began to recover.
He could grab toys again, reach for his mother’s hand, point to his favorite picture book.
But the right side remained weak, partially paralyzed.


Even so, Ignaś never stopped trying.
He faced every challenge with the same quiet determination he had shown since birth.

While other children were learning to walk, talk, and play freely, Ignaś’s days were filled with hospital visits, surgeries, and therapy sessions.


His childhood has been a mixture of hope and heartbreak — moments of laughter overshadowed by pain, but never destroyed by it.

His parents admit that sometimes, exhaustion overwhelms them.


But then they see his smile, and they remember why they can’t give up.

New Challenges, New Fights

The long battle took its toll on his body.
Because of muscle weakness, his right kneecap became dislocated.
Now his right leg remains bent at an unnatural angle, making walking nearly impossible.
He will need corrective surgery on that leg once he undergoes the kidney transplant.

But that’s not all.
Doctors have discovered spinal deformities — malformed vertebrae and curvature of the spine — that will also require surgery in the future.
Each of these conditions demands intensive rehabilitation afterward, hours upon hours of specialized therapy.
Without it, the dream of a normal, independent life will remain just that — a dream.

Yet, despite everything, Ignaś continues to smile.
He laughs during therapy sessions, clapping his little hands when he manages to take one step forward.
His resilience is contagious.
Nurses call him “the little fighter.”
Doctors shake their heads in disbelief at his spirit.

A Family’s Endless Love

His parents have become experts in courage.
They have learned to navigate the endless maze of hospitals, consultations, and medical paperwork.
They have faced nights when alarms went off, when breathing stopped, when hope hung by a thread.
And still, every morning, they wake up and whisper the same words:
“Let’s fight one more day.”

They teach Ignaś about the world outside — about sunlight, birds, and laughter.
They fill his days with love, even when pain surrounds them.
They want him to know that no matter how uncertain the future may be, he is cherished beyond measure.

They dream of a day when he will finally be free from the dialysis machine.
When he will be able to run, to breathe without assistance, to simply be a child.
For that, he needs a kidney transplant — the operation that could finally give him a chance at a normal life.

Hope Beyond the Hospital Walls

The cost of treatment and rehabilitation is overwhelming.
But the family refuses to give in to despair.
They believe in miracles because they have already witnessed one: their son’s survival.

Every smile, every heartbeat, every tiny movement is a reminder that love can defy the odds.
They are grateful for every act of kindness, every prayer, every donation that has carried them this far.
And they continue to ask — humbly, bravely — for help.

Because together, they believe, miracles can happen again.

A Message from the Family

“Ignaś’s illness is terrible, and the future is uncertain.
But every day, we show him the world, teach him what matters, and surround him with love.
We fight because we believe that one day everything will be okay.
Thank you for all your support so far — and please, stay with us.
Only together can we win this fight.”

Little Ignaś — the boy who was never supposed to survive — has already proven that life is stronger than fear.
Now he faces the next battle, and he cannot do it alone.

Every helping hand brings him closer to freedom, to health, to a childhood he’s never truly had.
And somewhere inside that small body, the heart of a warrior keeps beating — reminding the world that hope is stronger than pain.

Eryka’s Story – A Mother’s Plea From the Oncology Ward.2207

Eryka’s Story – A Mother’s Plea From the Oncology Ward

I am writing these words with trembling hands and a heart full of pain. For months now, our lives have been consumed by a nightmare from which I cannot wake. We live inside a hospital room on the oncology ward, where every hour feels like a battlefield and every day another war with suffering that words cannot truly describe.

In January, our fragile world collapsed once again. The doctors told us that new metastases had appeared. I can still hear the echo of those words in my mind, like a bell ringing at the end of hope. Everything changed in an instant. The hope I had been holding onto with all my strength began to crumble in my hands like dry leaves.

The doctors prescribed two more cycles of chemotherapy. It was supposed to be our chance — a path forward, however painful, to shrink the tumors and give Eryka another chance at life. We endured those weeks with a strange combination of fear and determination. Each hospital visit, each blood draw, each night of nausea and tears — all of it was for the hope of better news.

But in March, when the next tests came, our hearts sank. The results showed that while the tumors had shrunk slightly, they were still there. The disease had not disappeared. The enemy was still inside my little girl’s body. The doctors decided to start an even more aggressive treatment — chemoimmunotherapy. A word that sounds clinical and technical, but for us it meant one thing: even stronger medicine, even more pain, even deeper uncertainty.

This is hell on earth. There is no other way to describe it. My daughter, my little Eryka, is only a child, yet she endures pain so intense that even the strongest painkillers no longer bring relief. She moans in her sleep. Her small body stiffens, her face contorts, and she squeezes my hand with all the strength she has left, as if holding onto me can make the pain stop.

I spend nights sitting next to her hospital bed, watching the monitors beep and the IV drips empty into her veins. I watch her tiny chest rise and fall with effort. During treatment her oxygen saturation drops, her blood pressure sinks. Her lips turn pale. She is becoming a shadow of the girl she was only a few months ago.

I remember her laughter — bright, high-pitched, filling the house like sunshine. I remember her running barefoot across the grass, hair flying behind her, cheeks red with excitement. That girl feels like a dream now, distant and untouchable. Eryka no longer wants to eat. She no longer wants to drink. She rarely smiles. The hospital room has become her world, and pain her constant companion.

And me? I am here, beside her, helpless. I am her mother, and she clings to me as if I were her anchor in a storm. She will not let me go even for a moment. She holds my hand, she needs to feel my presence, she needs to know that I am here — always. But I am exhausted. I am alone here. There is no one to take over when I collapse, no one to hold her when I cannot. My body is tired, my spirit is tired, but I cannot stop. She is my child. I cannot fail her.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the machines beep and her breath becomes shallow, I feel like I am standing on the edge of an abyss. I whisper prayers I didn’t even know I remembered. I beg for strength. I beg for one more day with her. One more chance to see her smile again without pain.

We are fighting with everything we have, but our resources — emotional, physical, and financial — are running out. The treatments are expensive, the travel to the hospital is constant, the medications are endless. And the pain — the pain is unimaginable. Eryka’s body is so small, so fragile, and yet she endures what would break an adult.

I am asking you, begging you, from the bottom of my heart: please help us. Please stand with us in this fight. Your support is the only hope we have left that this nightmare might one day end. Without you, we cannot continue. With you, maybe — just maybe — my daughter will have a chance at life beyond the hospital walls.

When I hold Eryka in my arms, even with tubes running from her chest and tape on her little hands, I see the same girl I brought into this world — full of light, full of promise. She deserves a future. She deserves a life without pain.

I know there are many stories like ours. I know there are many children fighting similar battles. But when it’s your child, it feels like the world has shrunk to a single point — her suffering, her face, her hand gripping yours. I cannot give up. I will not give up. But I cannot do this alone.

Please, help us continue Eryka’s treatment. Help us buy the medications, pay for the hospital stays, fund the next steps of therapy that might give her a chance to live. Please help me ease her suffering. Every contribution, every prayer, every word of support matters more than you can imagine.

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, to everyone who has been with us so far. Thank you to those who have sent kind messages, who have donated, who have prayed. Without you, we would have lost hope long ago. Because of you, we are still fighting. Because of you, Eryka still has a chance.

But the road ahead is long, and it is steep. Please walk it with us.

With love and desperation,
Erkeaiym Duulatbekova — Eryka’s mother