My mother, Lila, is 67 years old. She runs a small accounting firm with her partner, has many friends and acquaintances, and leads an active life. She loves driving. She's always said that in another life she would have been a rally driver. She works hard to earn money for her dream—a camper. She plans to open a small café in her own home, where my husband can play guitar for guests in the evenings and I can sing. She helps everyone. People say she's like no other. She never refuses a helping hand. She's constantly learning, reading about health and nutrition, and listening to podcasts. She's thrilled about her long-awaited grandchildren.

In April 2025, she received a diagnosis – the cause of her stomach problems turned out to be a tumor. stage I lymphoma, low aggressive. "The treatment will be gentle, well-tolerated, and people recover quickly," we heard at the beginning. Unfortunately, the reality turned out to be different, and these events will never be forgotten.

My mother didn't want to take the final, sixth dose of the chemotherapy cycle because she wasn't feeling well, but she was afraid of losing benefits and support. On August 8th, she took a dose, after which her health deteriorated – headaches, hand problems, and vomiting developed. She and her father went to the seaside to rest and unwind. Initially, the fatigue seemed typical after chemotherapy, but the next day, problems with balance and vision appeared. On August 31st, my mother was admitted to the emergency room, which began a two-month hospital stay in Wejherowo. With each passing day, my mother lost the ability to speak, then swallow, and breathe. Eventually, she fell into a coma and lost all reflexes, even the pain ones. Tests revealed nothing.

After the first week, the doctors informed us that most of the diagnoses had been ruled out, except for one – PML (progressive multifocal viral encephalopathy). Although this was difficult news, we didn't lose hope and continued to care for our mother every day. My father, brother, and I took turns visiting her in the hospital and supporting her.

After three weeks, Mom opened her eyes, and basic reflexes, such as eye movements and breathing, returned. She also made sporadic swallowing attempts. Since then, we've been working daily on her rehabilitation. Every small step—a new facial expression, a clearer gaze, or restored reflexes—gives us hope. Recently, Mom has been moving her head and shoulders and occasionally coughing, suggesting that the tracheostomy tube may need to be gradually removed in the future.

Currently, my mother remains paralyzed, inert, and speechless. She recognizes loved ones. Unfortunately, her condition requires 24-hour care, nursing, and rehabilitation. All this comes at a high cost, so we decided to ask all our friends and well-wishers for help..

Our dream for mom would be a stay at a neuroregenerative clinic, the cost of which is 20-30 thousand zlotys.We'd be grateful for any support – we want more than anything in the world to give Mom the chance to return to her best possible fitness, no matter how long it takes. We love her and know she deserves it.