Marcelinka’s Fight: A Family’s Journey Through Childhood Cancer
In January 2021, our perfectly ordered world came crashing down. Our lives, once filled with simple joys and daily routines, shattered in an instant. That was the moment cancer entered our lives. Our little daughter, Marcelinka, was diagnosed with stage V Wilms’ tumors affecting both kidneys. The news hit us like a thunderbolt. Fear, disbelief, and helplessness consumed us. One moment we were celebrating the small milestones of a happy family life with our two children—our ten-year-old son Nikolas and our two-year-old Marcelinka—and the next, we were thrust into a nightmare we could never have imagined.
On January 10th, Marcelinka was admitted to the hospital with a fever. At first, we thought it was just a common illness; after all, children that age fall sick all the time. But within two days, everything changed. The diagnosis was brutal: aggressive Wilms’ tumors, and the gravity of her condition required immediate action. Just a week later, our tiny daughter underwent her first chemotherapy session. There was no time to process the shock; every moment counted, every delay could be fatal.
Marcelinka became a patient at the University Hospital’s Clinic of Pediatrics, Hematology, and Oncology in Bydgoszcz. Over the following months, she endured eight cycles of intensive chemotherapy. Each treatment weakened her little body, leaving her fatigued, apathetic, and with little appetite. Seeing her struggle to maintain the smallest spark of energy broke our hearts repeatedly. Despite the pain and discomfort, she faced each day with a bravery that inspired everyone around her.
By April, after assessing her progress, the doctors decided it was time for surgery to remove the tumors. In a preventative measure to avoid metastasis, a tumor was also removed from her lung. But the challenges continued. One of her kidneys had more damage than initially anticipated, and it became clear that chemotherapy would need to continue until June 2022. The fight was far from over.
The battle against cancer is not only physical but also financial and emotional. Marcelinka’s weakened condition requires a specialized diet to maintain her strength and prevent further complications. The cost of this diet, combined with constant hospital visits and the long journey to the clinic, adds a heavy burden to our family. To complicate matters further, the pandemic forced my husband to lose his job last December. He now takes temporary work wherever he can, while I remain on parental leave to care for Marcelinka. Soon, I may have to give up my job entirely to ensure she receives the care she needs.
Despite these challenges, we cannot give up. Every day is a fight, but Marcelinka’s resilience keeps us going. We see small victories in her progress: a better day of appetite, a moment of laughter between treatments, a spark of energy to play with her brother. Each of these moments reminds us why this fight is worth everything.
Now, thanks to the hard work of her doctors and the strength of her own spirit, Marcelinka’s condition is stable from an oncological perspective. While she still requires ongoing check-ups and specialist care, she is feeling well most days. It is a relief we never dared hope for in those early weeks of despair. But even in this improved situation, we know the journey is not over. She still needs intensive follow-up care, proper nutrition, and emotional support to continue her recovery.
Our appeal today is for help—not just for treatment, but to allow us to focus entirely on Marcelinka’s health. Every donation, every message of support, every share of her story gives us the ability to keep going. It ensures she receives the food, medication, and specialist care that are vital to her survival and recovery. The road ahead is long, but with help, we can make it a path filled with hope rather than fear.
Marcelinka has endured more than any child should ever face. She has faced pain, fear, and uncertainty with courage beyond her years. She reminds us every day of the preciousness of life and the power of love, perseverance, and faith. Her brother, Nikolas, stands by her side, bringing joy and comfort to her every day, and together, our family fights for a future in which she can grow, play, and thrive as any child should.
We are asking for your help to continue this fight. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings Marcelinka closer to a full recovery. Your support allows us to focus on her treatment, ensures she gets the nutrition and care she desperately needs, and gives her a chance to live a life filled with hope, laughter, and love.
From the moment she entered our lives, Marcelinka has been our miracle. She has shown us the meaning of courage, the strength of a child’s spirit, and the importance of community. Now, more than ever, she needs the support of compassionate people who understand that even the smallest gestures can save a life. Please, join us in this fight. Help Marcelinka continue her journey, give her the life she deserves, and let her heart beat strong, vibrant, and free.
We thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your generosity, your prayers, and your belief that a little girl can survive against the odds. Together, we can make the impossible possible, and together, we can give Marcelinka the chance to flourish once again.
—Marcelinka’s Parents
The Dog Who Kept His Heart Beating.14
The Dog Who Kept His Heart Beating
The storm came without warning. The mountain sky had been crisp and blue just an hour before, sunlight glittering on the trail as Jake and his Labrador mix, Scout, hiked deeper into the ridge. Then, with frightening suddenness, the light dimmed, the wind sharpened, and a wall of snow and ice swallowed everything in sight.
Within minutes, the trail was gone. Whiteout. No landmarks. No horizon. Just the roar of wind and snow that stung like knives. Jake tried to stay calm, leaning into the gale, Scout close at his side. But the temperature was dropping fast, and disorientation crept in.
Then it happened. On a slick ridge, Jake’s boot slipped. He tumbled into a drift, his body twisting violently before crashing down. Pain ripped through his leg—broken, he thought immediately. Snow buried him quickly, numbing his body as he struggled to move. His breaths grew shallow, fogging weakly against the biting air.
He knew the danger. In weather like this, hypothermia didn’t take hours—it took minutes. Alone and immobile, he wouldn’t survive the night.
But he wasn’t alone.
Scout didn’t bolt for help. He didn’t leave his master behind. Instead, the dog pressed himself against Jake’s chest, curling his body tightly around him, his warm breath and steady heartbeat pushing back against the creeping cold.
Through the howling night, Scout stayed. The blizzard raged, snow piling higher and higher over them, but the dog never moved. Every time Jake drifted close to unconsciousness, he felt the press of fur, the weight of loyalty holding him to life.
One night passed. Then a day. Rescuers fought their way up the mountain, battling through drifts and ice, their hopes fading with every hour. When they finally found Jake more than 24 hours later, they saw what kept him alive: an unconscious man with dangerously low body temperature—and a dog standing guard.
Scout snarled at them, baring his teeth when they tried to pull him away. Only when one rescuer brushed snow from Jake’s face did Scout step back, his tail flicking once, as if to say: Now you can help him.
Jake was rushed down the mountain, his body frail but his pulse still faintly beating. Doctors called it a miracle of survival. They said he should not have lasted that long. Jake only smiled weakly and whispered one word: Scout.
Weeks later, in the safety of a hospital room, Jake sat propped in bed, sunlight spilling across the sheets. A familiar scratching at the door broke the quiet. Before the nurse could finish opening it, Scout bounded in, tail whipping with joy. He leapt onto the bed, burying his head into Jake’s chest just like he had in the snow—only this time, not in desperation, but in relief.
Jake laughed through tears, wrapping his arms around the dog who had refused to give up on him.
“You didn’t just save me,” he whispered into Scout’s fur. “You kept my heart beating.”
And for anyone who doubted the depth of a dog’s love, Jake’s story became living proof: sometimes the strongest heartbeat isn’t your own—it’s the one pressed against you in the darkest night, refusing to let go.
