Two weeks.
That’s all the time left to save his life.

Cancer has already stolen so much from little Jędruś — his laughter, his energy, his peace.
It came once, was beaten back, and then returned — stronger, crueler, more determined to win.

He’s only a child, but he’s already been through more than most adults could bear.
Two brain surgeries. Endless chemo. Nights filled with fear and pain.
And now, the doctors have said the words no parent can endure:
“There’s nothing more we can do here.”

But somewhere, there is hope — a special treatment in the U.S. that could save him.
A chance to stop the cancer without destroying his body.
A chance to live.

The cost? 2 million złoty.
The deadline? 14 days.

His parents don’t sleep anymore.
One stays by his hospital bed; the other cares for their baby at home.
They fight exhaustion, despair, and time itself — because giving up isn’t an option.

This is more than a fundraiser.
It’s a race against death.
And every second counts.
 Full story in the comment

We’re standing against the wall.
And right behind us—death.

We can feel her breath on our backs, her cold, merciless whisper reminding us that time is running out. We can almost see her claws reaching for our little boy. We try to protect him, to run, to fight—but on our own, we can’t win.

We have only two weeks to raise 2 million złoty—a sum no parent should ever have to calculate as the price of their child’s life.
And yet, that’s what our son’s life now costs.

His only chance lies in Ohio, USA, where a special treatment protocol exists—one that’s unavailable in Poland.
Here, no one can help him.

🔹 The First Blow: The Diagnosis

It was 2014.
We were a happy family—parents to two boys, Jaś and Jędruś.
Jaś was four, and little Jędruś was one and a half.
Our home was full of laughter, toys scattered across the floor, and dreams of the future.

One day, Jędruś got sick.
Just a common infection, we thought. But when the vomiting didn’t stop, we went to the doctor.
The pediatrician calmed us about the cold—but noticed something unusual in our son’s gaze.

That single moment of attentiveness saved our child’s life.

After a series of tests came the diagnosis that shattered our world into a thousand pieces:
Two tumors in his brain, each the size of a peach.

The world disappeared beneath our feet.
I felt like I was falling into a bottomless pit.

Our little boy—just yesterday full of life—was dying.

🔹 Fighting an Invisible Enemy

He was rushed into emergency surgery.

The doctors fought for every minute, every breath.
They succeeded—the tumors were removed.

Then came chemotherapy.
Months of pain, nausea, and tears. Hair falling onto his pillow, his tiny body trembling from exhaustion.

But Jędruś fought on.

The brain surgery left its marks—slower development, signs of autism, and aphasia.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was that he was alive.To us, he was—and always will be—a miracle.

🔹 The Genetic Discovery

We couldn’t accept that it was just bad luck.
We requested genetic testing.

The results felt like a death sentence: a TP53 gene mutation, known as

Li-Fraumeni syndrome—
Congenital, incurable, deadly.

In healthy people, this gene protects the body from cancer, repairing damaged DNA.
But in Jędruś, that gene was broken.
Instead of protecting him, it allowed cancer cells to multiply endlessly.

Doctors told us bluntly—radiotherapy, the standard treatment in Poland, would kill him.
For a child with this mutation, it would almost certainly cause new secondary cancers.

And so—we were left with no options.

🔹 A Moment of Hope

After months of treatment, the first phase finally ended in March of last year.
That was when Jędruś could finally go to preschool.
For the first time in so long, there was light in his eyes again.

He laughed, danced, built towers from blocks—just like any other child.

That brief time felt like the beginning of a new life.

🔹 The Nightmare Returns

But cancer never forgets.

Two weeks ago, during what was supposed to be a routine check-up, our world collapsed again.

The tumor had grown back.
A recurrence of a rare and aggressive cancer—choroid plexus carcinoma (CPC)

.

Another surgery. Another wave of fear. Another fragile hope that maybe this time it would be enough.
Doctors opened his head once again to remove the new mass that could have taken his life at any moment.

But now—surgery alone isn’t enough.
He needs treatment that will stop the disease once and for all.

🔹 The Last Chance – Ohio, USA

Only one hospital in the world offers real hope:

Nationwide Children’s Hospital in Ohio.

There, under the care of Professor Finlay—considered the father of pediatric neuro-oncology—there’s a special treatment protocol designed specifically for children with the TP53 mutation.
No radiotherapy.
No risk of triggering new cancers.
Just hope.

But that hope comes at a price:
500,000 dollars—over 2 million złoty.

A sum no parent can possibly raise alone.
And time is slipping away.
Each day, the tumor could return.

🔹 Two Weeks

Now, we live in the hospital again.
My husband stays by Jędruś’s side; I’m at home with our 10-month-old baby, Adaś.
Our oldest, Jaś, sees everything—our tears, our exhaustion.
He doesn’t ask questions, but his eyes speak for him.

Cancer doesn’t only attack a child.
It devours the entire family.

It drains our strength, our hope, our sleep.
But it will not take away our will to fight.

🔹 A Plea for a Miracle

For now, Polish doctors are giving Jędruś maintenance chemotherapy—to keep him alive until we can reach the U.S.
But if we don’t pay in time—we won’t make it.

Two weeks.
Fourteen days to gather everything we have, to cry out for help from kind hearts everywhere.

Because only together can we pull Jędruś back from death’s grip.

🔹 Hope That Never Dies

I know—it will take a miracle.
But I believe in miracles—because once before, you already helped save him.

I believe that the hearts of thousands can beat in one rhythm—the rhythm of Jędruś’s fragile but determined little heart.
That I will still see him running across the yard, laughing with his brother, hugging me before bed, whispering:
“Mom, I’m healthy now.”

Because at the end of this road, there are no numbers, no statistics—
Only one truth:
A child who wants to live.