Kacper’s Fight for Life: A Family’s Story of Hope and Recovery
Our son Kacper had just become a teenager. Only days before, we were sending him New Year’s wishes, hoping that the coming year would bring him happiness and help his dreams come true. He deserved it more than anyone, a gentle, well-behaved, and intelligent boy. But even in our worst nightmares, we never imagined that our only wish would not be for him to succeed or be happy—but simply for him to
live.
On January 20, 2023, Kacper complained of a headache. We thought it might be a change in weather, stress, or perhaps the onset of a mild infection. It did not seem serious, so we decided to monitor him. The next day, Saturday, he developed a slight fever, so we took him to an urgent care center. The doctor diagnosed the flu, prescribed medication, and we returned home, believing it was nothing too serious.
However, by Sunday, Kacper was unusually lethargic. He felt unwell, but that was expected. Yet, when he tried to stand, we noticed something alarming: he was dragging his left leg and barely moving his left arm. This was no longer normal. Our concern grew immediately.
We arranged a teleconsultation with our family doctor, and the decision was made to take him to the hospital immediately. From the moment we arrived, everything escalated rapidly. That very day, Kacper underwent an emergency
life-saving brain surgery. An MRI revealed a 5 cm abscess in the right hemisphere of his brain. The doctors acted without delay, evacuating the pus to prevent further damage.
After the surgery, he was admitted to the ICU. We thought the worst was behind us, but after six days, Kacper’s condition worsened. On January 28, he had to undergo a second brain surgery—a
decompressive craniotomy. The following days were another intense struggle for his life.
In total, Kacper spent two weeks in the ICU and was intubated for 12 days. He remained in a
medically induced coma for five weeks, only regaining consciousness at the end of February. It was then that he first began to walk. Before that, he had been lying in a hospital bed, needing care like a newborn infant.
Kacper is still in the hospital under the care of the neurosurgery department and is receiving ongoing pharmacological treatment. To this day, doctors have not determined the exact cause of the brain abscess, so his treatment is somewhat trial and error. Aggressive antibiotic therapy has also caused side effects, including abdominal stones. Sadly, Kacper regained consciousness only to experience
intense abdominal pain, which may require another surgical procedure or adjustments in medication—the outcome is still uncertain.
What we do know is that he is slowly recovering, and his journey toward full health will be long.
In about two years, Kacper will need another surgery to reconstruct his skull because he currently lacks skull bones on the right hemisphere. This leaves his brain exposed directly under the skin—a very dangerous condition. For this reason, he will not return to school with his classmates but will receive
individualized home education.
In the coming days, weeks, and months, our focus will be on helping Kacper regain his strength and functionality. He currently suffers from partial paralysis on the left side
of his body. He can walk, but his left leg is stiff, and his left hand is the least functional part.
We are doing everything possible to organize professional rehabilitation
to help him regain mobility. Therapy with a speech therapist, psychologist, and special educator will also be essential to help his mind recover to the state it was in before the operation.
It is a race against time. Our goal is to secure a skilled therapist who can work with Kacper immediately after his hospital discharge, ensuring continuity in his rehabilitation. We are determined to do everything we can to restore him to the vibrant boy he was before this sudden and unexpected tragedy.
We ask for your help. Every donation, every shared message, every bit of support will allow us to provide Kacper with the care, therapy, and medical attention he urgently needs. With your support, we can help him reclaim his life, his independence, and the chance to fulfill the dreams he had before his life changed forever.
Kacper is not just our son; he is our hero, and his fight inspires everyone around him. Please, stand with us in this journey and help Kacper fight for a future filled with hope, strength, and health.
With heartfelt gratitude,
Kacper’s Parents
Kubuś’s Story – A Little Boy’s Battle to Reclaim His Future.2198
He came into the world perfect — a healthy baby boy, scoring 10 out of 10 on the Apgar scale. I still remember the warmth of his tiny fingers wrapped around mine, the softness of his skin, the steady rhythm of his little heartbeat pressed against my chest. The moment Kubuś was born, my world was filled with light, peace, and infinite love. It was a day that seemed to promise only joy — the kind of happiness every mother dreams of.
But that happiness didn’t last. It transformed far too quickly into fear, confusion, and unbearable pain.
From the very beginning, Kubuś struggled with anemia and an iron deficiency. It didn’t seem too serious at first — many children face similar issues, and doctors assured us that with the right medication and careful monitoring, he would be fine. We followed every instruction, every dosage, every recommendation with precision. His smile never faded, and his playful energy gave me hope that everything would turn out all right.
Then came June 15th, 2024 — the day my world collapsed.
I noticed dark bruises spreading across my son’s chest. There had been no fall, no injury, no reason for them to appear. My heart pounded as panic set in. Something was terribly wrong. We rushed to the hospital, desperate for answers. After a series of tests, the doctors told us to go home. They found nothing alarming.
I wanted to believe them. I wanted to trust that everything was fine. But deep inside, a mother’s instinct whispered that it wasn’t.
A few days later, Kubuś was examined again, this time for routine vaccination qualifications. Once again, no one suspected a thing. He seemed fine. But I couldn’t shake the unease in my chest — the feeling that something unseen was brewing beneath his tiny ribs.
Eleven days later, our nightmare began.
That morning, I heard strange sounds coming from his room. When I ran to him, my little boy’s body was trembling uncontrollably — violent convulsions taking over his fragile frame. His eyes rolled back, his lips turned pale, and I screamed for help. Time lost all meaning. I remember flashing lights, hurried voices, a blur of hospital corridors. Everything happened too fast.
At the hospital, the doctors acted immediately. Tests, scans, urgent consultations. Then the words that shattered me: “We have to transfer him — his condition is critical.”
An ambulance arrived within minutes. I rode with him, holding his tiny hand, praying over and over for him to open his eyes. But his body remained still, his face pale under the harsh hospital lights.
When we reached the second hospital, the doctors decided to place him in a medically induced coma. I remember signing papers with trembling hands, unable to breathe. My son — my beautiful, smiling boy — was now fighting for his life, connected to machines that kept him alive.
Then came the next blow.
Scans revealed severe changes in his brain — the kind that could alter the rest of his life. I can still hear the doctor’s voice echoing in my head: “Your son is fighting bravely, but he needs blood transfusions — and soon.”
One transfusion followed another. Plasma. More tests. More waiting. A ventilator replaced his breath. For days, there was no improvement, no light, no certainty. Every beep of the monitor became the rhythm of my fear. Every doctor’s visit felt like a trial between hope and despair.
No one could tell us what caused this catastrophe. There was no clear diagnosis, no answer to why.
After endless days and sleepless nights, Kubuś finally began to stabilize. Slowly, carefully, the doctors decided to bring him out of the coma. When his eyes finally opened again, tears flooded mine. My little boy was still here — fragile, weak, but alive.
Today, Kubuś is back home, surrounded by the love of his siblings who missed him deeply. But life is no longer the same. The damage to his brain has changed everything.
He no longer follows movement with his eyes, and we fear his vision has been affected. The right side of his body remains weak, and every movement — every tiny gesture — is a challenge. He must relearn everything that once came naturally: how to sit, how to hold, how to move, how to be a child again.
His future now depends on one thing — relentless rehabilitation.
Physiotherapy, neurological consultations, vision therapy, specialized exercises — they are all crucial if Kubuś is to recover even a fraction of his abilities. But every session costs money. Government support covers only a small part of what he truly needs. And as any parent knows, you can’t put a price on your child’s chance at life.
Each day is now a battle — one fought not just against the limitations of his body, but also against time, exhaustion, and financial struggle.
We cling to hope. Hope that the worst is behind us. Hope that one day he will walk again, see again, play again. Hope that we will hear his laughter fill our home once more.
But we can’t do it alone.
Please, from the bottom of my heart — help us give Kubuś a future. Help us fight for the little boy who once entered this world so full of promise, and who now needs every ounce of love, therapy, and support to find his way back to it.
Every contribution, every kind word, every gesture of support means more than you can imagine.
Because for us — for Kubuś — this isn’t just a fight for recovery.
It’s a fight for his life.
It’s a fight for tomorrow.
And we still believe tomorrow can come. 💔
