We’re still deep in the trenches right now… and truthfully, it feels like there’s no way out. Every day seems like an endless loop of heartbreak, a battle that repeats itself with no signs of relief.
Nothing has changed yet. Each time we step into Branson’s room, seeing him so small, so exhausted, our hearts break all over again. The helplessness is almost unbearable.
Today, Branson had to go back on oxygen because his levels were dropping. The doctors ran every test possible, including another chest X-ray, and thankfully, everything came back clear.
They believe this is just another cruel side effect of the relentless adenovirus he cannot seem to shake. It’s like an invisible enemy that never rests, constantly attacking, leaving him drained.
Yesterday, Branson was infused with more donor cells in the hope of giving his immune system an extra boost to fight these viruses. But his little body is just so tired.
He’s not only fighting the adenovirus and all its awful side effects, but the BK virus has returned too. It’s brutal. Every day feels like a new challenge, and sometimes it feels like we’re watching him being crushed by a storm we can’t stop.
Earlier this week, Branson underwent both a colonoscopy and an endoscopy to figure out why he’s in constant pain, vomiting, and struggling with stomach issues.
The results showed his intestines are extremely inflamed, with a significant buildup of fluid and air in his abdomen. That explained so much of the discomfort he’s been enduring. Thankfully, aside from the inflammation and pressure, everything else looked okay.
Branson is sleeping most days, barely eating or drinking, and so frail. We asked again about placing a feeding tube because his body is so malnourished, but the doctors said his platelets are still too low.
With all the vomiting, they feel it’s too risky right now. We’re praying that in the coming days his counts improve enough for them to place one because he desperately needs nutrition and strength.
The doctors have told us that because of all the harsh therapies he endured in the U.S. before coming here, his body is taking an even harder hit than most children do after a transplant.
Watching Branson suffer day after day is gut-wrenching beyond words. Each time he grimaces in pain, we feel every bit of it ourselves. The helplessness is a heavy weight we carry constantly.
We miss home more than words can express. We miss Donald. We miss Maddox and Maggie. We miss our dog. We miss our people, our routines, our life.
Living this nightmare in real time while the rest of the world keeps turning is nearly impossible. We feel like we’re standing still, waiting for some sign of relief for Branson.
Please pray. Pray, pray, and pray again that these new cells will take hold. Pray that Branson’s body will finally turn a corner.
Pray that the viruses will be cleared, the inflammation will calm, his pain will ease, his appetite and vision will return, and his strength will be restored. Branson deserves to feel good again. He deserves to just be a kid again.
We cling to faith, even when it feels impossible. Every single prayer being lifted for Branson carries us through.
They remind us that even in the darkest moments, we are not alone. The love and support pouring in from everyone around us give us the strength to keep going, day after day, minute after minute.
Every message, every prayer, every ounce of love and support means more than we can ever express. We could not make it a single day without each and every one of you. Your words, your care, your hope—they are what keep us standing. They are what keep Branson fighting.
Watching Branson lie there, we feel both helpless and determined. Every breath he takes reminds us of his strength, courage, and resilience.
We have seen Branson smile, even just fleetingly, between the pain and exhaustion. Those brief glimpses of happiness give us hope that one day he will come through this, healthy and strong, able to live the childhood he deserves.
While waiting for that miracle, we stay by Branson’s side, holding his hand, whispering words of love, and sending up every hope and prayer we can muster.
Every day is a battle, but we know we are not alone. The prayers and love from all of you are lifting us, giving us courage, and giving Branson a fighting chance.
And in the quiet moments, when Branson drifts off to sleep, we stand there, listening to his fragile breathing, silently promising that tomorrow will be different.
A day when his body may heal a little more, when the viruses may weaken, when his smile may return. We will not give up. We will continue to pray, to love, and to stand strong until Branson can return to the normal life he deserves.
Every day is a test of faith, a reminder of the fragility and preciousness of life, but also a reminder of the power of hope, love, and community. Branson’s fight is not just his own—it has become ours, yours, and everyone who is holding him in their hearts and prayers.
And together, we continue to hope for that day when he can finally be free from pain, free to be a child, free to live. A day when Branson’s body is strong, his smile is bright, and his childhood is restored to him. We will never give up.
He Is Only Two, Yet Cancer Has Returned: Help Miłosz Win This Fight.2158
Miłosz’s Battle Against Cancer – A Story No Parent Should Have to Tell
When we first heard the word cancer spoken in connection with our little boy, our world collapsed. Nothing can prepare a parent for that moment—the feeling of having the ground pulled out from beneath your feet, of being thrown into a nightmare you cannot wake up from. From that day forward, every thought, every breath, every ounce of energy has been dedicated to saving our son.
We thought the worst was behind us. We thought we had fought and won. But now, at only two years old, our little Miłosz is facing this monster for the second time. And we, as his parents, are asking for help in the most difficult battle of our lives.
The First Diagnosis – September 2023
Miłosz was just 5 and a half months old when doctors discovered a tumor on his kidney. It was a moment that forever divided our lives into “before” and “after.”
It happened almost by accident. We had taken our baby boy to the clinic for what was supposed to be a routine vaccination. The doctor, while examining him, noticed that his abdomen seemed unusually firm on the right side. She advised us to do an ultrasound, “just to be safe.” We thought little of it at the time. After all, how could our seemingly healthy, smiling baby boy have something seriously wrong?
But the ultrasound changed everything. A massive tumor was found on Miłosz’s right kidney—9 centimeters in size. For such a tiny child, the news was overwhelming. Within hours we were rushed to the University Clinical Center in Gdańsk. The doctors explained that the tumor was too big and too aggressive to wait. Miłosz was too small to begin chemotherapy right away, so the only option was surgery.
In September 2023, at not even six months old, our son underwent a major operation. The surgeons removed his right kidney along with the tumor. He spent several days in intensive care. We hovered at his bedside, watching the machines beep and the tubes snake around his fragile body, whispering desperate prayers. We begged for someone to wake us from this nightmare.
The First Round of Chemotherapy
After surgery, Miłosz had a central venous catheter implanted so he could begin postoperative chemotherapy. We started making weekly trips to the hospital. Ten cycles of chemotherapy were planned. Each cycle was a battle in itself—days of nausea, weakness, tears, and endless waiting.
We watched our little boy endure things no child should ever go through. The drugs made him tired and pale, sometimes too weak to play, sometimes too sick to eat. But he kept fighting, and so did we. As parents, we did everything we could—staying by his side, comforting him, and clinging to the hope that this would all be behind us soon.
At the end of treatment, we thought we had won. We dared to dream again. In September, Miłosz even started going to daycare. We allowed ourselves to believe that our little boy would now get the chance to have a normal childhood, filled with laughter, games, and discovery.
The Relapse – December 2024
But our happiness was short-lived. Life had another cruel twist in store.
On December 30, 2024, we went for a routine check-up at the oncology clinic. We expected reassurance, perhaps even the words “all clear.” Instead, the ultrasound revealed something we could hardly process: another tumor, this time on his left kidney. Four centimeters. The cancer was back.
The world shattered all over again. How could this be happening? How could our little boy—who had already been through so much—have to face this battle again? We were devastated. We cried, we screamed, we clung to each other. But as parents, we knew we had no choice but to keep going. We had to fight again.
The Second Battle – January 2025
Everything began anew. Miłosz was admitted back to oncology. A new central catheter was implanted, and on January 9, 2025, he received his first round of chemotherapy for the relapse.
Six cycles are planned. What happens next will depend on how he responds. The doctors will decide on further treatment, which may include more surgery, more chemotherapy, or even more advanced interventions. For now, every day is filled with uncertainty.
We don’t know what the future holds. What we do know is that we will do everything in our power to save him. But the truth is—we cannot do it alone.
The Emotional and Financial Strain
This battle has taken everything from us. Emotionally, we are drained. Each hospital stay feels like an eternity, each test result like a verdict hanging over us. Nights are spent sleepless, listening to the sound of machines or waiting for fevers to subside. Our home is filled with medications, sterile dressings, and the constant reminder that our child is sick.
Financially, the burden is crushing. The costs of medication, travel to the hospital, special nutrition, and countless other expenses are overwhelming. Our household budget has been stretched to breaking point. And yet, the fight is far from over.
We need to be ready for anything—for new treatments, for unexpected complications, for whatever this cruel disease throws at us next.
A Plea for Help
Today, Miłosz is only two years old, and yet he has already endured more than many adults face in a lifetime. He has fought bravely through surgeries, chemotherapy, pain, and exhaustion. He is a warrior in the truest sense of the word—but he is still just a child.
We, his parents, are doing everything we can. But we cannot carry this burden alone. That is why we are reaching out to you, asking for help.
Every donation, every gesture of support, every kind word brings us closer to giving our son a chance at life. A chance to grow up, to play, to go to school, to laugh freely without the shadow of cancer looming over him.
From the bottom of our hearts, we ask you: please help us save Miłosz. Together, we can give him the future he deserves.
