“Watching My Child Die — And Fighting to Bring Him Back”.2322

A Father’s Plea: Please Don’t Let My Little Boy Die
(The Story of Szymon Berliński’s Fight for Life)

A few weeks ago, my son was dying before our very eyes.

Those are words no father should ever have to say. But that was our reality.

Our little boy, Szymon — just two years old — lay in a hospital bed, his tiny body trembling, his skin pale, his breath shallow. I watched as life slowly began to slip away from him, powerless to stop it.

When I learned that my son had neuroblastoma — one of the deadliest childhood cancers — my world collapsed like a house of cards. Half of the children diagnosed with this disease never make it. My boy’s life had barely begun, and already, death was trying to steal him from us.

I am Szymon’s father. And I am begging for help — again — to keep my little boy alive.

The Day Our World Fell Apart

It all started on May 16th.

That date is now burned into my memory — the day the doctors told us our son was dying.

Before that, Szymon was a happy, healthy child. He laughed constantly, loved to run, to play, to discover the world. He was full of light — our entire home revolved around his joy. But then something changed. He became weak. He stopped eating. His smile faded.

We took him to the hospital, terrified but hopeful that it was something simple. Instead, we were given the worst news any parent can hear.

“There’s a tumor in his brain,” the doctor said quietly.

The room went silent. I remember my wife clutching my arm, whispering, “No, no, no…” as the world around us disappeared. The next words hit even harder: the tumor in his brain was a metastasis. The original tumor — the source of all this evil — was deep inside his abdomen.

Our son had neuroblastoma — and it had already spread to his spine and bone marrow.

The Nightmare That Followed

Everything happened so fast.

Szymon was rushed into surgery to remove the tumor pressing on his brain. The doctors did everything they could — but when he woke up, our baby boy could no longer see. He had lost his sight.

Then came the chemotherapy.

We watched as he grew thinner and weaker, refusing food, vomiting from exhaustion. The medicine didn’t seem to work. His little hands trembled as I held them, and I could feel the weight of his suffering in every breath he took.

He was fading away.

We were watching our son die — and there was nothing more terrifying than that.

A Ray of Hope in Barcelona

When the doctors in Poland told us they could do no more, we refused to give up. We searched the world for hope — and we found it in Barcelona.

The doctors there specialize in neuroblastoma. When they saw how sick Szymon was, they agreed to admit him immediately. We flew there with trembling hands and hearts full of desperate hope.

You — the incredible people who believed in us — made that possible. Because of your donations, your compassion, and your prayers, we were able to take Szymon to Spain.

He underwent another grueling surgery, this time to remove the main tumor in his abdomen. The operation was long and dangerous — but by some miracle, the doctors managed to remove nearly 100% of the cancerous tissue.

After that, they implanted a port in his chest for future treatments. Slowly, painfully, Szymon began to regain strength. He started to eat again. For the first time in months, there was color in his cheeks.

Our hearts, for the first time in so long, felt something other than fear — they felt hope.

The Battle Is Not Over

But neuroblastoma is a cruel and deceitful enemy.

It often returns — stronger, more aggressive, more unforgiving than before. And that is what terrifies us most.

The doctors in Barcelona told us that once Szymon finishes his current treatment — five months of immunotherapy followed by one month of radiotherapy — he must receive a

special vaccine designed to prevent the cancer from returning.

This vaccine can save his life. It trains his immune system to recognize and destroy cancer cells before they grow again. It is his best chance to live a long, healthy life.

But the cost is staggering — one million złotych.

We don’t have that kind of money. And we cannot afford to wait.

Every day counts. Every delay could mean losing the fragile ground we’ve gained.

A Father’s Plea

As I sit here in the hospital, watching my little boy sleep, I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat on the monitor — each beat a reminder that he’s still here, still fighting, still holding on.

And I know I would give anything to keep that heartbeat going.

I would give my own life if it meant my son could live.

But right now, all I can do is ask for your help — once more — to give him that chance.

We are fighting for everything: for Szymon’s future, for his laughter, for his sight, for his life.

If his life ends, mine loses its meaning.

Please, don’t let that happen.

Please help us save our son.

He’s not even three years old. He hasn’t had time to live, to grow, to dream.

Don’t let cancer steal that from him.

The Hope That Remains

We know the road ahead will be long. There will be more treatments, more pain, more sleepless nights. But there will also be hope — because of you.

To everyone who has already helped us, who has prayed for us, who has donated, shared, and believed — we are endlessly grateful. You are part of this fight now. You are the reason we still believe in miracles.

Szymon’s story is not over yet.

As long as there is breath in his body and love in our hearts, we will keep fighting.

For life.
For hope.
For our little boy. 💔

Ward’s First Steps: A Miracle of Courage.237

Ward wasn’t just a dog—he was family. From the moment he bounded into their lives with a wagging tail and joyful bark, he had carved a place in every heart at home. He was more than a pet; he was a companion, a confidant, a source of comfort on difficult days, and the embodiment of unconditional love.

But life can change in an instant. One afternoon, a careless driver turned everything upside down. Ward was struck in a hit-and-run accident. By the time he was brought home, it was clear that the injury was severe: he had been paralyzed. The family stared at him, helpless and heartbroken, unsure how to navigate the uncertain future ahead.

The first days were filled with fear, frustration, and pain. Ward’s once lively eyes were clouded with confusion. Simple things—getting up, moving his paws, wagging his tail—were now impossible. And yet, his family refused to give up. They spent hours by his side, gently coaxing him with soft words and patient hands. They researched therapy, consulted veterinarians, and devised exercises to help Ward regain whatever strength he could. Every small twitch of a paw, every lift of a head, became a victory worth celebrating.

Weeks turned into months. The progress was slow, sometimes discouraging, but they never let despair take hold. Ward responded to their love and persistence, his determination growing alongside theirs. Each day, he pushed a little further, testing his strength, trusting the hands that guided him.

Then, one ordinary morning, something extraordinary happened. Ward, without harness or support, rose to his feet. Just for a moment at first, quivering but upright, he took a step. And then another. It was unsteady, but it was his own. He walked—on his own—through the living room, muscles trembling, heart racing, eyes shining with both effort and triumph.

The room erupted in tears and cheers. Cameras were forgotten; hearts were full. Ward’s first independent steps weren’t just a milestone—they were a declaration of hope, courage, and the unbreakable bond between a dog and his family.

Ward’s journey didn’t end there. Each day brought more confidence, more strength, and more joy. He learned to navigate the world again, chasing balls, greeting visitors, and snuggling in the quiet moments as if nothing had ever changed. But his story was never just about walking—it was about resilience, the refusal to surrender, and the quiet miracles that love can make possible.

For anyone witnessing Ward’s transformation, the message was clear: even in the face of despair, even when the odds seem insurmountable, hope and determination can carry you forward. Ward wasn’t just a dog who walked again—he was a living testament to the power of never giving up. ❤️