Agatka is only five years old, but she has already spent most of her life fighting a monster called neuroblastoma — one of the most aggressive childhood cancers.

She was just two when the first signs appeared.

At an age when other children were discovering playgrounds and fairy tales, Agatka was discovering hospital corridors, chemotherapy drips, and the sterile smell of disinfectant that became part of her daily life.

She does not remember what a life without hospitals feels like.
For her, it has always been doctors, machines, needles, and endless tests.
For her parents, it has been fear, sleepless nights, and the constant prayer for one more day of strength.

They dream not of riches or luxury — only of normality.
A simple day without pain, without fear, without the echo of monitors in the background.

For the past two years, Agatka and her parents have been living in Barcelona, where she is receiving specialized treatment at one of the few hospitals in Europe dedicated to neuroblastoma.

It is far from home, but it is a place that has given them something priceless — hope.

Thanks to modern medicine and a brilliant team of doctors, Agatka’s parents have watched her come back from the edge more times than they can count.

Every day brings new challenges, but also the unshakable belief that she can and will overcome this disease.

And now, after years of fear and uncertainty, they can finally say something they once only dreamed of —

they are close to victory.

Just a year ago, scans showed twelve metastases in her small body.
Twelve — a number that once felt like a death sentence.
But treatment after treatment, cycle after cycle, those tumors began to disappear.

One by one, they fell.
Today, only two remain — and even those are weakening.

The primary tumor, which once grew relentlessly and cast its shadow over every moment of their lives, is now inactive.

It no longer threatens her the way it once did.
It feels like a miracle — and in many ways, it is.

But this fight is not yet over.
The doctors warn that to truly win, Agatka must complete several more cycles of combined

chemoimmunotherapy — an advanced, costly treatment that has given her this chance at recovery.

It is a treatment that saves lives, but it also takes a heavy toll.
Agatka’s small body is weary.

Her strength has limits, though her spirit does not.

The side effects are brutal.
The nerves around her spine have been damaged, leaving her right leg weaker and her muscles on that side fragile.

Her posture is affected, and the imbalance grows with time.
She tires quickly.
She hurts often.
Yet even when she cries, she does not give up.

One treatment cycle lasts nine exhausting days.

Five days of chemotherapy — a steady drip of poison meant to kill the cancer before it kills her.
Then, four days of immunotherapy with an innovative drug not available in Poland.
These infusions are so painful that morphine and ketamine must be administered to ease her suffering.
Her parents watch helplessly as she winces, trembles, and grips their hands through the agony.

And still, she fights.

After each cycle, two weeks of recovery follow — weeks of transfusions, blood draws, medications, and slow rebuilding of strength.
At the same time, Agatka takes an oral form of chemotherapy daily — one that targets a genetic mutation, ALK, found in her cancer cells.

It is this personalized plan, carefully designed by her doctors, that has brought her this far.

But now, the hospital has planned eight more cycles of treatment.
The family has already raised enough money to cover four of them, thanks to the incredible kindness of strangers who believed in their little girl’s fight.

But four cycles still remain unfunded — and with them, the cost of hospital stays, recovery time, and the medicines that keep her alive.

The thought of stopping now is unbearable.

They have come too far.
They have seen too many miracles to let the battle end unfinished.
They cannot allow all of Agatka’s suffering, all of her courage, all of her progress, to go to waste.

Her parents know that behind every number, every bill, every sleepless night — there is their daughter’s life.
And that is something they will never stop fighting for.

They remember when her body was covered in tubes, when her hair fell out in clumps, when she was too weak to lift her head.
They remember the fear of hearing the words “metastatic,” “aggressive,” “uncertain.”
And they remember, too, the moment they saw her scans showing improvement for the first time.
That moment when despair turned into hope.

Now, hope is all they have — and all they ask for is the chance to finish what they started.

Each donation, each prayer, each kind word is not just a gesture.
It is a breath of life.
It is one more day closer to hearing the words every parent dreams of — “Your child is cancer-free.”

Agatka has spent most of her young life learning to be brave.
She has spent birthdays in hospital rooms instead of playgrounds, her toys replaced by IV poles and medical monitors.
Yet she still laughs.
She still finds joy in the smallest things — a colorful balloon, a storybook, a glimpse of sunlight through the hospital window.

Her parents look at her and see not only their child, but their hero.
A tiny warrior with a heart bigger than her pain.

They know she will carry scars — physical and emotional — for the rest of her life.
But they also know she will carry strength.
Because strength is what she has learned every single day of this fight.

The family’s dream is simple — to one day walk out of the hospital and never return.
To see their daughter run freely, laugh without pain, and live a life that isn’t measured by medical charts and test results.

They are so close now.
So close to reclaiming that dream.
But they cannot do it alone.

They are asking, humbly and with all their hearts: please help us finish this journey.
Help them fund the final stages of Agatka’s treatment.
Help them give their daughter the chance at life she deserves.

Every donation, every share, every prayer matters.
Each one brings Agatka closer to the day when the word “cancer” will finally be behind her.

They believe in her.
They believe in miracles.
And they believe that with the help of others, the day will come when they can finally say, “We did it. She made it.”

Because no child should grow up in pain.
No child should live in fear.
And no parent should have to fight alone.