With heavy hearts, we share a new chapter in our daughter Sasha’s battle with cancer—a chapter no family wants to write again. The insidious disease has returned, this time spreading to her skull and pressing on her brain. In an instant, all the emotions we thought we had left behind—fear, helplessness, disorientation—flooded back, more powerful and cruel than ever. Yet, amidst that darkness, Sasha stands strong. Her courage shines through in a way that fills us with both heartbreak and admiration.
Once again, we prepare to leave our familiar home, to leave behind the little normalcy we have, to seek hope at the Cleveland Clinic. Ahead of Sasha is brain surgery, followed by additional radiation and chemotherapy. Each procedure, each infusion of medication, was a step into unknown territory—a place where nothing was guaranteed, where the line between hope and fear was heartbreakingly thin. This was a battle against a disease that had tested Sasha’s body and spirit far beyond what a child should endure.
Throughout this journey, we received countless questions from friends, family, and even strangers: “What can we do to help?” Therefore, we established a support fund to alleviate the enormous financial burden of the treatment. For those who wish to bring Sasha joy, contributions can be marked as “gifts,” allowing her to choose a present—a small but meaningful gesture, reminding her that many people believe in her and are with her on this path.
Amidst all the loss and anxiety, we also witnessed miracles unfold in unexpected ways. Sasha recently began an experimental immunotherapy treatment—a method never before used in the United States for Ewing’s sarcoma. Previously, this therapy had only been tested on a tiny group of three children in Europe, all of whom achieved a complete response and are now cancer-free. If this therapy proves effective for Sasha, her hospital will partner with the drug manufacturer to open a clinical trial in the U.S.—which could offer a glimmer of hope to many other children battling the disease.
But this hope doesn’t come easily.
This therapy is one of the most grueling challenges a child can face. The receptors the drug targets are not only found on cancer cells, but are also present throughout the body’s nervous system. For five consecutive days, ten hours each day of drug infusion, every nerve in the body can experience intense pain. One child who had undergone this therapy described the feeling as if “all the teeth in my mouth were exploding at once.”
Knowing this, we sat down with Sasha and gave her a choice—a choice no child should have to face. She could refuse further treatment, choose comfort and peace. After more than three years of relentless struggle, we knew she had suffered too much. But Sasha’s answer brought tears to our eyes. She said, softly but firmly:
“I don’t care about the pain. If this can help me, please let me try.”
The first day of the infusion was a nightmare. Sasha cried in pain, whispering, “I’ve never been in this pain, Mom.” Then she told the doctor, “I can’t believe humans have to suffer like this just to live.” Those words will forever be etched in our hearts—both painful and a testament to the extraordinary awareness and courage of a child.
But on the second day, a small miracle occurred. Sasha slept more peacefully. No more pain from the infusions. No more pain from the tumor. Just a brief, precious lull in the storm. To increase the chances of success, two chemotherapy regimens tailored to the tumor’s sensitive profile were added to the treatment plan. With this combination, we continued moving forward—clinging to faith, hope, and love.
We are incredibly grateful to the doctors, nurses, and researchers at MD Anderson Cancer Center. They not only treat the disease, but also care for people. They seek hope when there seems to be no other option, and ensure that children like Sasha are not left behind. Their dedication is a miracle in its own right.
Sasha’s journey is a testament to the power of the human spirit. You are walking a harsh and exhausting path, but each day you face it with a courage that commands our utmost respect. Each infusion, each surgery, each treatment is another step toward life—fueled by the unwavering love of your family and community.
Come on, my dear.
Another day.
Another battle.
Another chance to live.
Your courage inspires us, moves us deeply. To me, and to remind everyone that even in the darkest moments, hope can still shine. Miracles—small or extraordinary—can still happen.
We ask everyone to continue standing by Sasha, sending love, prayers, and faith. Every act of support, every kind gesture means so much.
Sasha, our brave little girl—we are here.
Always.
