Mateusz’s Fight: A Family’s Battle Against Time and Heartbreak
The hospital. Again and again, we find ourselves here. It’s been four long months since we returned from the USA, and during this time, our home has only briefly welcomed us before we were forced to return to the sterile white walls of the hospital. It’s been a never-ending cycle, and all Mateusz wants is to be home. He misses his little sanctuary, the place where he can play, laugh, and forget about the harsh reality that has dominated his life. But the hospital has become his world, and it’s crushing him — body and soul.
This time, it’s different. Mateusz’s condition has worsened dramatically. His body, once strong and full of energy, is now swelling at an alarming rate. I watched helplessly as his appearance deteriorated minute by minute, the puffiness in his face and limbs growing worse with each passing hour. The doctors were quick to inform us that his heart is becoming increasingly insufficient, a cruel reality that we are forced to face every day.
The team of specialists is doing everything in their power to stabilize Mateusz, but the road ahead is fraught with complications. On top of the heart failure, Mateusz is now losing protein from his body, a further blow to his already fragile health. The doctors have devised a tentative plan: if they can gradually reduce the intravenous medication keeping the fluids from accumulating in his body and switch to oral medication, we may be able to bring him home. But that’s only if the transition goes smoothly.
The uncertainty is unbearable. Every day, the doctors discuss possible solutions, but no one can provide a clear answer about the next steps. They’re still debating the feasibility of another attempt at the Fontan procedure — a surgery that might give Mateusz’s heart a better chance at functioning. But even if the surgery is successful, no one knows whether his body will reject it again. It’s a terrifying unknown, and every time I ask, I’m met with the same somber expression from the doctors: they don’t know.
How much time does Mateusz have left? That question hangs over us like a dark cloud, and I can’t shake the constant dread that grips me. I am terrified of losing my son, and yet, no matter how much I fear it, I can’t escape the reality that it’s a possibility. Even if the Fontan procedure happens and even if it works, it won’t be the end. There will still be countless more challenges ahead.
As a mother, I’ve always tried to focus on the present, to cherish the moments we have with Mateusz right now, but it’s becoming harder. It’s hard to think about the future when every day is a battle. Still, I try to hold onto the little things — that he is here with us, that he’s fighting, and that he still has the ability to smile. My greatest wish is for Mateusz to return to his beloved kindergarten, to experience the joy of childhood before it’s taken away from him. I want him to have a few more moments of innocence, a few more days of laughter and play.
But right now, Mateusz is exhausted. He is tired of it all. The hospital, the endless doctors, the constant pain — he’s overwhelmed by it. He’s so small, so fragile, and yet he’s endured more than any child should ever have to endure. He’s terrified of the hospital, and who can blame him? His young mind has been scarred by the trauma of constant medical procedures, the endless needles, and the fear of the unknown. He just wants to go home. He just wants it all to stop.
It breaks my heart to see him in this state. I can’t protect him from everything, no matter how hard I try. I can’t shield him from the pain or the fear that has become his reality. All I can do is hold his hand, comfort him, and try to reassure him that we are doing everything we can to make him better. But I know, deep down, that it’s not enough.
To make matters worse, we’re still waiting for the bill from the treatment in the USA, and it’s been over three months. Our fundraising campaign has raised less than 60% of the amount we need, and I’m afraid that even with all the support, we still won’t be able to pay the bill. I hesitate to ask for help again because I fear we won’t be able to meet the financial demand.
But we have no choice. We are still asking for your help, still pleading for your support in this fight for Mateusz’s heart. Every donation, every prayer, every good thought sent our way — it all matters. We can’t do this alone. The journey ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear: we can’t give up on Mateusz. He deserves a chance, a chance to grow, to play, to live without the constant shadow of illness hanging over him.
We can’t predict what the future holds, but we can hold onto the hope that with the right support, we can give Mateusz the life he deserves. So, we ask once more, from the depths of our hearts, for your help. For your prayers, your support, your love. Mateusz’s fight is far from over, but with you by our side, we believe we can keep going. We believe we can give him the chance to live a life full of the joy and laughter he’s always dreamed of.
Thank you for being with us in this fight. Thank you for giving us hope. Thank you for standing with Mateusz.
Mateusz Pietrak’s Family
