A Father’s Cry from the Oncology Ward
I am writing to you straight from the oncology ward. Next to me lies my little boy, fragile, exhausted, but still clinging to life with all the strength his small body can muster. I wish I could bring you good news. I wish I could say the storm has passed, that healing has begun. But the truth is different, harsher, and heavier than any parent should ever have to carry.
Just a few days ago, the doctors made a decision we had been dreading: they must begin an additional cycle of chemotherapy. The tests revealed what every parent fears most — cancer cells still hiding inside his body. Without eradicating every last one of them, a bone marrow transplant is impossible. That transplant is his only chance at survival, but to reach it, he must endure yet another round of brutal treatment.
And with it comes another unbearable burden: the costs. This new treatment requires an additional 170,000 złotych — a number that feels as crushing as the diagnosis itself.
The First Battle
Our nightmare began in July 2021. Sardorjon was only three years old, full of life, laughter, and boundless energy. Then, without warning, everything changed. Doctors diagnosed him with a soft tissue tumor in his left thigh. Our world collapsed in a single sentence.
The tumor was surgically removed, and immediately afterward, a grueling 52-week chemotherapy protocol began. It was a year of endless hospital visits, tears, and the constant fear that our little boy would not make it through. But he fought bravely. Slowly, he began to improve, and after six long months, he entered remission. We dared to hope again.
But cancer is cruel. It waits in silence, then strikes when you least expect it.
The First Relapse
Six months after remission, a routine PET-CT brought devastating news: metastases had spread to his bladder. The nightmare was back, fiercer than before. Doctors prescribed another four cycles of chemotherapy. The tumor shrank, and in October 2023, surgeons removed the mass from his bladder. We thought the worst might be behind us.
By March 2024, another plan was set into motion: six additional cycles of chemotherapy, followed by a life-saving bone marrow transplant. We pinned all our hopes on this transplant.
The Journey Abroad
On September 1, 2024, we traveled to India. The doctors there began preparations, running countless tests and administering the first cycle of chemotherapy. But after careful consideration and consultations with specialists, we made the difficult decision to continue treatment in Turkey, in Ankara.
There, he underwent three more courses of chemotherapy. Each one drained him further. He grew weaker, and complications began to appear — infections, kidney dysfunction, and lung problems. Watching him suffer, gasping for air, crying from pain we couldn’t take away, was the most helpless feeling we have ever known.
We could not stop. We searched for alternatives, and finally, someone recommended a professor in Istanbul who specialized in cases like his.
Istanbul: A New Hope
When we arrived in Istanbul, the medical team immediately began fighting for his life. They identified serious kidney problems and a dangerous lung infection. Treatments were started right away. Slowly, we saw small improvements. For the first time in weeks, his fever eased, and his breathing became more stable.
But even as we saw progress, we knew the battle was far from over. The doctors explained the next step clearly: continue chemotherapy until the cancer cells are gone, and then — only then — can the bone marrow transplant proceed. This is the only way to save his life.
The problem? The costs.
The Cost of Survival
We have already sold everything we own. Our savings are gone. We have borrowed from friends, relatives, and even strangers who showed us compassion. But the bills keep growing, and the additional chemotherapy, combined with transplant preparation, demands
170,000 złotych more.
For us, this number is impossible. For Sardorjon, it is the difference between life and death.
The Daily Reality
Life in the oncology ward is a world of its own. Days blend into nights, filled with the constant hum of machines, the sharp smell of disinfectant, the cries of children in pain. Every morning, our son wakes up weaker, and yet he still manages to smile when he sees us. That smile breaks us and heals us all at once.
We try to ease his suffering in any way we can. We bring his favorite toys, sing his favorite songs, tell him stories about the adventures he will have when he is well again. But deep inside, we are terrified. Terrified of the next scan, the next lab result, the next sleepless night.
As his parents, we would take his pain a thousand times over if we could. But we cannot. All we can do is stand by his side and fight with everything we have.
A Plea for Help
This is why we write to you now, with trembling hands and breaking hearts. We cannot save him alone. His survival depends on treatment we cannot afford. Every contribution, every act of kindness, every prayer — they all mean the world to us.
We have already seen miracles in his fight. We have seen him rise when doctors said he would not. We have seen him endure more than any child should. And now, we ask you to help us see one more miracle: his chance to live.
Our son should not spend his childhood in hospital beds. He should be running, laughing, playing, learning. Instead, he is fighting for every breath, every heartbeat, every tomorrow.
Please, help us give him that tomorrow.
From His Parents
We are endlessly grateful for every donation, for every kind word, for every moment you stand with us in this fight. Without you, we would not have made it this far. With you, we still believe in hope.
From the depths of our despair, we thank you. And we beg you — stay with us. Do not let us fight this battle alone.
Together, we can save Sardorjon.
