There is no time❗ Cuba is battling acute leukemia and needs support❗.

Unobtrusive symptoms

The pain in his legs appeared suddenly, unannounced. It wasn't soaring, it didn't yell out of sleep. It was quiet, settling in the muscles like fatigue after a long march. At first, no one took it as a danger signal. Maybe it was a cold, maybe an overload. However, when small marks appeared on the boy's skin and his lymph nodes became visibly enlarged, Kuba's mother became concerned. She didn't wait. She went with her son to the doctor.

A long wait and a phone call....

The family doctor referred them for further testing. Suspicions fell on something related to immunity - maybe an autoimmune disease, maybe something temporary. But Cuba was feeling worse and worse. He had increasing difficulty moving, as if his legs were becoming too heavy to lift. The parents decided to seek help at an infectious disease hospital. There, after a series of blood tests, the parents heard - cancer. The diagnosis was not yet complete, but it had already sounded like a verdict for the loved ones. The decision was made to immediately transport Kuba to the "Cape of Hope" clinic in Wroclaw. There, after tests, there was no longer any doubt: acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

Therapy that takes strength away

Chemotherapy began almost immediately. There was no time for thinking, for taming the new reality. Kuba was weak. For the first week, he didn't get out of bed. Any movement seemed too difficult. His body seemed to be pushing out the treatment that would come to the rescue. The fatigue was so profound, as if it came not from the body, but from within - from the soul, from the will. Yet every morning the nurses hooked up a new IV. The treatment had to continue.

Silence of maintenance treatment

Today Cuba is in the maintenance treatment stage. It's a time that doesn't bring relief - it brings vigilance. Every check-up is a moment of tension. Results are sometimes good, but just as often there are alarming deviations. The body has not yet rebuilt immunity. Every contact with others is a risk. Everyday life has turned into an agenda: temperature measurement, diet control, isolation. Everything that was normalcy has disappeared - procedures, routines and silent prayers remain.

Aid that should not remain silent

Many things in this story happen quietly. Disease came quietly. Fear grows quietly. Helplessness does not shout, but sits at the kitchen table in the evening. But help - she should not be quiet. She should be concrete, quick, human. She should allow to return - not only to health, but to ordinary life. One in which the child gets out of bed, goes to school and doesn't need to know the word "chemotherapy."