On September 9, 2024, our world stopped. News arrived that no parent is ever prepared to hear: our daughter Hania was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
No warning. No gradual signs. Just one sentence that changed everything. Hania is now in the hospital, beginning yet another fight for her life. Right now, more than ever, she needs help.
Hania’s story has never been an easy one. From the very beginning, life tested her with a cruelty we never imagined possible. She was born at 36 weeks, on November 10, 2013. We waited for her with excitement and hope, dreaming of holding a healthy baby in our arms. Instead of joy, the first hours after her birth were filled with fear. Doctors noticed breathing problems almost immediately. A cardiology consultation followed, and then came the words that shattered us:
a complex congenital heart defect.
Hania was diagnosed with double-outlet right ventricle, ventricular septal defect, atrial septal defect, and pulmonary stenosis. These were not just complicated medical terms—they were a terrifying reality. Within 24 hours of her birth, our tiny daughter was transported by ambulance to a specialist hospital in Kraków. We hadn’t even had time to process one diagnosis when another blow came. Genetic tests confirmed that Hania has
Down syndrome.
We were still trying to find our footing when we noticed something else. Strange, repetitive movements of her right hand. Unusual eye motions. A neurologist ordered an EEG. The result was devastating once again:
epilepsy. Diagnosis followed diagnosis, each one heavier than the last, each one pushing us deeper into fear for our child’s future.
Yet Hania fought. And so did we.
In 2015, thanks to the kindness and generosity of many people, Hania underwent a complex, life-saving heart surgery at the University Clinic in Münster, Germany. That surgery gave her a chance to live. It saved her heart—and our hope. We believed that the worst might finally be behind us.
We were wrong.
Hania’s epilepsy grew more severe over time. She began suffering multiple seizures every single day—some short, some violent, all exhausting. The seizures took away what little strength she had. Today, Hania does not walk or speak. She requires round-the-clock care and assistance with every aspect of daily life. After each seizure, she collapses into sleep, her small body completely drained. And every time, we fear for her heart, already so fragile.
We tried everything. Countless medication changes. A strict ketogenic diet. New therapies. New specialists. Nothing brought lasting relief. We are now undergoing advanced diagnostics for drug-resistant epilepsy, hoping for answers where medicine has so far failed us. Publicly funded care is simply not enough. Intensive rehabilitation, physiotherapy, speech therapy, and specialized equipment are her only chance to improve her condition and protect what strength she still has—but the costs are overwhelming.
And now, leukemia.
As if her body had not endured enough, cancer has entered her life without mercy. Hania is facing chemotherapy and long hospital stays, on top of everything she already battles daily. Her heart, her neurological condition, her weakened body—all make this fight even more dangerous. We are terrified, but we cannot allow fear to stop us. Parents of sick children learn to keep going even when their hearts are breaking.
Love gives us strength, but love alone cannot pay for treatment.
Right now, we need to raise 50,000 PLN to continue Hania’s rehabilitation, specialist care, and essential therapies—support that could mean the difference between deterioration and stability, between suffering and relief. You have already helped our daughter once. You helped save her heart. Today, we are asking you not to turn away.
Hania has already survived more than many adults face in a lifetime. She is gentle, vulnerable, and unimaginably brave. She deserves every chance to keep fighting. Please stand with us again. Please help us protect her, support her treatment, and give her hope in this darkest moment.
Our daughter is fighting for her life—once more.
And we are fighting with her.
