destiny

Part I:

"We'll do everything in our power," she heard from doctor after doctor. She

kept waiting, as the ninth year of her hope passed. She believed it would eventually work out. Why not? If her results were normal, she was healthy, and still young, why couldn't a miracle happen to her? Why couldn't she have a child? She and Romek had good financial circumstances; over 11 years of marriage, they'd managed to acquire a nice apartment and a reasonably good car. Why are children born where they're not expected (how could anyone possibly not be looking forward to the birth of their own child?), and not where the family simply couldn't wait for them? What's more, she and Romek were a well-matched couple, a harmonious marriage. A child would thrive with them. It would feel loved and safe. Surely Joanna hadn't asked for too much?! She was willing to endure much just to have a child. She realized that raising and caring for a child was a difficult task, that many sacrifices were required to raise a good person. She couldn't understand how it was possible that she wouldn't experience what she so desperately desired. But she knew she'd never give up—she'd eventually find a doctor who would tell her she was pregnant.

Roman had mentioned adoption, but Joanna wasn't entirely convinced. She'd wanted to be a mother from the start—to experience pregnancy sickness and a growing belly, to fear childbirth and attend childbirth classes. To buy baby clothes

and wonder if it would be a boy or a girl. No, Joanna couldn't decide to adopt a child. She was waiting for her own. She

remembers that summer well: she and Romek were about to go on vacation to Turkey; it was probably 35 degrees Celsius, and she felt incredibly ill. She felt dizzy, had a strange feeling in her stomach, had no desire to do anything, and went to bed almost immediately after returning from work—she was so tired. Romek, as always overly sensitive about his wife's health, made an appointment for her. One of the questions was

about the possibility of Joanna being pregnant. Until then, she had been afraid to even think about it, afraid to get her hopes up again. The doctor suggested a pregnancy test and referred her to the hospital laboratory. She went there as soon as possible: the next day—she was so curious. Of course, she immediately told Romek about the doctor's suspicions; she had never been able to keep a secret from him. The results were due in two hours. She spent that time trying not to get nervous. She preferred not to get too excited, so as not to experience another disappointment. She went into town to make the wait pass more quickly. The nurse handed her the results. She read the HSG positive. But what does that mean?

"Excuse me, could you... please interpret this result?" she asked the nurse.

- pregnancy, the woman didn't even take a break from her duties.

The following months were a time of constant joy for Joanna. While she was a frequent patient of her gynecologist, this meant not ailments, but an excessive concern

for the child's proper development. She simply wanted everything to proceed smoothly, for nothing to disrupt her little one's growth. She felt very well and at peace. She stopped worrying about trivial matters, thought a lot, planned what it would be like once the baby was born, rested, and, like a "real" mother, occupied herself with knitting. She knew she was only now finding her place. Her growing belly didn't burden her, but made her feel strangely light and joyful. Romek did everything to strengthen their relationship even more. He organized romantic outings to restaurants, bought flowers, and took Joanna for walks. They attended antenatal classes together, and they decided that Roman would be with his wife during the delivery.

"In just a few months, we'd be pushing a stroller," they often imagined.

Family and friends rejoiced with them. After a while, Joanna can say it was simply idyllic. They decided not to know the baby's gender, so the birth meant double curiosity for them. What would it be like? Who would it resemble? When the due date approached, they prepared the things to bring for Joanna

and the little one, chose a name (Ania or Michał), and waited. The baby's room had long since been prepared. Everything was going according to plan.

The day Ania was born was exceptionally warm for the end of April. Spring and the approaching May were in the air. Joanna felt fear, uncertainty, and joy. When she was sure it was finally here, they went to the hospital. They were assigned a private room and waited. Fortunately, Ania's arrival didn't take long. By late afternoon, they were able to enjoy their beautiful daughter. The little one had big blue eyes and dark, long hair for a baby. To Joanna, it seemed too good to be true: she had what she had dreamed of for years. The whole family was thrilled with her arrival. The grandmothers bought more and more clothes and toys. Joanna's sister would come from across town just to see Ania, to see what had changed since yesterday. However, the person who was most "crazy" about the baby turned out to be Roman. He did things Joanna would never have suspected: getting up at night to cover her up or when he thought she was crying, reading parenting textbooks, gazing at his daughter like

a picture, and when he was home, he would never leave her side. Once eager to meet friends and go to the pub, he became a homebody, starting conversations with "And yesterday, Ania..."

Ania grew quickly. She was a strong child. In fact, aside from a few colds, she never got sick. Joanna didn't return to work after her maternity leave—she was determined to spend as much time with her child as possible. It seemed to her that no one would take better care of her little one. Joanna felt she should be with her daughter at all times, protecting her, so that nothing bad would happen to her. She did this with the joy of a mother doting

on her child. She was happy watching her first step, listening to her babble, observing the funny faces she made, and observing how well she was developing. Joanna had received a gift from fate; she asked for nothing more.

Part II:

"Today we're going to the zoo, what do you think, Anusia?" Romek smiled at his daughter,

"To the zoo! Hurray, we'll see hippos!" Ania was excited,

"and lions, giraffes, tigers, monkeys, elephants,

maybe we'll take a little monkey home." Ania dreamed of a pet,

"you can't take animals from the zoo, this is their home,

" Ania interrupted, "but we can buy a dog along the way." The girl decided to go ahead and try,

"we'll think about a dog if you're really good.

" "So when?" Ania wouldn't give up,

"if you're good, maybe Santa Claus

will bring you a dog." Ania was an inquisitive child,

"Santa Claus has his places, where he gets presents for good children,

" But where?

"Far, far away from here," Roman began his story,

"as far as the sea?" Ania interrupted,

"farther, much farther away. So, far, far away live enchanted fairies who conjure up presents that Santa Claus then delivers.

" "And will they conjure up a dog for me too?"

"Only if you're veeeery good.

" "Oh, well, then I will," Ania laughs happily.

Joanna noticed that with the birth of their child, their bond with her husband became even stronger, more lasting. She simply loved him more, that's probably the best way to describe what was between them. In the past, even before Ania was born, they argued more often over small, often trivial, matters. Joanna resented his going out.

With friends, Roman disapproved of her, in his opinion, excessive spending on clothes and cosmetics. Now everything changed: Roman sought out friends less often, and Joanna thought primarily about what to buy for the little one (Ania had to have the best, they agreed). Before Ania was born, Joanna had often heard from her friends that a child complicates life. From her own experience, she could say the opposite. So what if you have to prepare and do more, that you have to be always available, when a child makes you calmer, gives you a purpose in life, makes it easier to endure adversity, and nothing seems as difficult

or complicated as it did when he was gone?

"Let's go!" Ania tucked her under her arm (she always carried her toys that way)

, and they headed for the car.

Joanna loved going on trips together, both near and far. They often went to different places. They went to the water park, the amusement park, the children's center. They explored the surrounding towns, and their favorite spot was a forest 10 km outside the city. Ania enjoyed their trips together. When she was a little older, they bought her a bike, so they often went for bike rides. Their daughter was a persistent child, rarely whining, was easily persuaded by "crazy" ideas, and was curious about the world.

"I'm so happy!" Joanna often thought.

Many couples and families with children strolled through the zoo. The little ones ran up to their cages,

and their parents took photos or videos. Every now and then, they sat on benches to rest, or went to the numerous bars and cafes. The children bored their parents

with ice cream and Coca-Cola. The weather was beautiful, sunny.

"When are we going to see the teddy bears?" Ania tugged on Joanna's sleeve.

"As soon as we find their cage," she promised.

They entered the rooms where the terrariums were located. Ania began complaining of a headache.

"It's probably because of the smells," Roman remarked.

There was indeed a specific, unpleasant smell wafting around the terrariums.

They went outside for some fresh air. Ania started crying that she was tired.

"Let's go home, I want to go home,

" Joanna reminded her,

"but I don't feel like it anymore, I want to go to my bed."

Joanna checked Ania's forehead—it was cool.

"Maybe we should rest for a while and then visit the teddy bears?" Roman suggested.

"Niiiiiiiiiiii," Ania started crying.

"Okay, daughter, if you're tired—we're going back." Joanna had doubts about giving in to her daughter's whims, but she decided that the little one probably really was tired, and besides, touch wood—she might be catching a cold.

"And to McDonald's on the way?" Roman knew what his daughter liked.

This time, however, Ania wanted to go straight home.

Once they arrived, she started complaining of a headache and then fell asleep while watching TV. Joanna checked her temperature. It was normal. This continued for the next few days – apart from Ania's fatigue and drowsiness, nothing was wrong with her. She didn't hurt, she didn't have a cold, just very weak. Joanna told herself it was probably the spring equinox, but she was still very worried. She even made an appointment

with a doctor, but "their" doctor said everything was fine and only prescribed vitamins. The next few days passed like this. Ania tired quickly, whined more often than before, and started sleeping in the afternoon again, even though she hadn't done so for almost six months. One day, before noon, when they were alone at home, Ania started complaining of dizziness. Joanna left the room to make her something to drink, and when she returned, her daughter was lying on the floor. What Joanna experienced then is indescribable. She called a taxi

and ran out of the apartment, holding the child in her arms. Within minutes, they were at the emergency room. Doctors quickly managed to revive the girl. They said it was fainting and decided to admit Ania to the ward. They found themselves in a room where each bed was painted a different color and cheerful pictures hung on the walls.

"What happened?

" "We have to lie here for a while. Look at all the pretty pictures on the walls." Joanna tried to remain calm.

"But why?" Ania demanded.

"The doctor will examine you, just like "our" doctor did last time. Everything will be fine." Joanna tried to speak in a calm, cheerful voice.

"And when will we go home?"

"I don't know, we'll sleep here tonight.

" "Daddy will be sad when he gets home.

" "I've already called him and he'll be here soon.

" "Great!"

As soon as Joanna called him, he dropped everything and came to the hospital. He stood by Ania's bed, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"You scared me, my daughter.

" "Don't worry, Daddy, I like it here, because I'll be sleeping here tonight." Ania liked to talk a lot.

Joanna explained exactly what happened. They decided Roman would stay with the baby,

and she would go to the doctor to find out about Ania.

"Well, I can't say anything right now; we need to get tests done. Has your daughter been ill lately?" The doctor treating Ania was a handsome man in his 40s.

"No, everything was fine, but..." Joanna hesitated.

"But...?"

"She's been feeling a bit weak for the past few days, sleeping a lot. I went to the doctor, but the doctor said it's nothing serious. She told me to give my daughter vitamins.

"Please go to your sister, she'll tell you what the rules are on our ward. I understand you'll be staying with your daughter?

" "Yes, yes, of course." Joanna left the office.

Roman stayed with the baby, and she went home to gather the necessary supplies.

After all, the hospital was supposed to be their "replacement" home for the next few days. She took Ania's favorite stuffed animal, a few of her toys, pajamas, something to change into, cosmetics, and a book.

When she returned to the ward, father and daughter were laughing at some joke.

"Do you remember, Daddy, when Yogi Bear jumped into the pool?" Ania was probably watching a cartoon in the hospital recreation room a moment ago.

"Mommy, it's great that you're back! Did you bring me Lily? It's good that Joanna remembered the toy.

" "How did you play without me?" She asked,

"We watched cartoons and ate a Danuka."

Joanna noticed the tension on her husband's face. She knew how worried he was

about the little one.

"Go home, get some rest, we'll go swimming soon too," Joanna suggested.

"What am I going to do at home alone without my girls?" Roman made a funny face.

"You'll be reading Gazeta Wyborcza." Ania knew perfectly well the name of his favorite newspaper.

"How well you remember everything, daughter." Roman smiled.

They understood each other perfectly, and sometimes even Joanna was jealous that she was no longer Romek's only "beloved.

" "It's good to have a loving family," she thought.

She grew up without a father, who left when she was two. He never contacted her, and when she was a teenager, she learned he had died. Her mother never spoke of him; it was a taboo subject in their home, his presence only mentioned in the monthly alimony payments. She missed someone strong, someone who would show her the world from a "male" perspective. Her mother loved her dearly and tried to provide her with the best, giving her support and love, sending her to extracurricular activities, and organizing birthday parties. However, Joanna always felt that with her father, her life would be better, more peaceful. Perhaps she would be stronger, more able to cope with problems? Perhaps more independent? Then she met Roman and learned to love a man. She gladly accepted his help, impressed by how decisive and decisive he was, and besides, she avoided leaky faucets, unlubricated seals, and other problems that men so quickly solved. Besides, she was surprised that she was handling her relationship with her husband so well. Before Roman, she hadn't really been in any "serious" relationship; she thought it would be difficult for her to find her way in such a situation. She had read that girls raised without a father have difficulty interacting with men in adulthood. That they become too complacent or too demanding. She wasn't like that, as Roman often said—she was "the perfect ideal."

The night passed peacefully—Ania, exhausted by her emotions, fell soundly asleep. Joanna couldn't fall asleep for a long time—she tossed and turned exhausted on the uncomfortable folding bed. She worried about her daughter, wondering if, God forbid, she would have to undergo some painful tests. The next day began with the cry of one of the young patients. A boy was afraid of having his temperature taken. Ania greeted the new day with curiosity.

"What is this?" she asked, surprised at the sight of the hospital equipment.

After the morning rituals, it was time for the first tests. Ania's blood was drawn, tested, and an EKG was performed. Joanna was happy to be

with her daughter. She remembered from childhood when she herself had appendicitis

and her mother wasn't even allowed to enter the ward. As much as she cried then, she never cried again. From that hospital stay, she remembers overwhelming loneliness and pain.

It's good that the rules have changed now, she thought.

In the afternoon, a new girl was admitted to "their" room. Paulinka, for that was her name, had inadvertently taken three sleeping pills, and the hospital performed a gastric pumping on her. Exhausted by the procedure, she was now asleep in her crib,

while her frightened parents sat nearby. Her mother looked older than her father, and she seemed to have the deciding vote in the family. First, she scolded her husband for allowing such a situation, then went to find a doctor. The girl's father smiled at Joanna.

"You can't sleep, you're taking pills," Paulinka noticed and thought it was candy. It's hard to keep an eye on a child; Paulina is such a "quicksilver."

"Yes, that's how it is with children," Joanna replied.

"And what's your daughter sick with?

" "We don't know yet, she fainted yesterday; they have to run all her tests.

" "When will I be able to play with Paulinka?" Ania was missing contact with the children. Joanna and Roman even considered sending her to preschool because of this.

"If Paulinka wakes up and feels like

it, when will that be?" Ania inquired.

"Maybe tomorrow.

" Ania, despite Joanna's presence, was a bit bored. She had to lie in her crib or watch cartoons in the recreation room. She missed the space, the walks, their daily ritual of going "for something delicious" to the shop next door, where the "ice lady" sold it. Ania gave her this nickname because they sometimes bought ice cream there too. Joanna tried to come up with all sorts of games and puzzles to keep the child entertained. She asked Roman to bring them books and coloring books. Ania slept part of the day. The doctor said the test results would be back tomorrow, and then they might know what had caused her fainting.

They were in a room with windows facing east, where the sun was streaming in in the morning. One of them woke Joanna. It was another difficult night. Joanna barely slept; she was tormented by fears for her daughter's health, and besides, she didn't like sleeping in the same room with strangers—Paulina and her mother were sleeping next door.

"But you woke up early, you were greeted by a nurse who came to take her temperature.

" "I couldn't sleep at all." Joanna smiled at the young woman.

She gently woke Ania.

"Anusia, the sun is up, wake up, sleepyhead.

" Ania wasn't used to waking up so early. After breakfast

(Roman brought Ania's favorite cheese and hospital bread with jam for Joanna), the doctors came for their morning rounds.

"How are you, Ania? What's wrong with you?

" I dreamed that Winnie the Pooh came to see me, Ania replied resolutely,

"It must have been a nice dream, what did Winnie the Pooh say?

" "Yes! Winnie the Pooh probably didn't say anything, but I'd like to go home.

" "Not so soon, my lady," the doctor smiled,

"I'll ask you to come to my office after the rounds, we already have the test results."

Joanna felt uneasy. Why was the doctor asking her to come to his office and not tell her here? Maybe it was something serious? She wanted to call Roman, but she thought there was no point in panicking since nothing was known yet, and she was impatiently waiting for her appointment at the doctor's office.

"Please, sit down," she heard the doctor say,

"Is there anything abnormal in Ania's results?" She couldn't help but ask.

"The blood test showed a normal red blood cell count, but...

" "But..."

"But we're concerned about the high white blood cell count and elevated ESR.

" "What could that mean?" Joanna asked.

"We need to run additional tests; it's difficult to make a clear diagnosis at this point.

" The doctor chose his words carefully. "But these are abnormal results, so what could they mean?

" "We'll run additional tests on Ania today, and we'll take another blood test tomorrow. Please don't worry too much, we'll keep you updated

." Joanna felt it might be something serious. She called Roman and told him about her conversation with the doctor. She didn't want Ania to see her sad. When she entered the room, her daughter was playing with dolls with Paulina. The girl had a pretty, delicate face and light curls.

"When are we going home?" Ania asked,

"We'll stay here for a while longer." Joanna tried to say this in a calm voice.

"Oh, so we'll play some more," Ania decided.

"And what about the little girl?" Paulina's mother asked.

"And we don't know anything yet, they have to repeat the tests.

" "Yeah, they told my brother's child the same thing, and the little one was crying. Then it turned out it was some kind of stomach stenosis or something."

Joanna didn't want to continue the conversation; she wanted Roman with them.

Before noon, Ania was taken for additional tests. She had a CT scan and other tests, the names of which Joanna didn't know. They told her to wait for the results. Ania felt fine, played, ate normally, only slept a little more, but Joanna assumed this was normal during her hospital stay and constant bed rest.

Ania was a patient child, more interested in the procedures than afraid of them. She and Roman tried to explain to her that these tests were necessary for her health. She knew she could count on their support and comfort. Moreover, even when Ania was very little, they had resolved to always tell her the truth whenever possible (of course, the information was appropriate for her age). They expected honesty from her, so they didn't want to deceive her. They recognized that no matter how old a child was, they always deserved honesty from their loved ones.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital where Ania was staying were very caring and gentle. They didn't show any discouragement towards the children (or their parents, who were often more frightened than the children).

The day Ania and Joanna returned from the examination room where the little one's blood had been drawn, volunteers came to the ward dressed as fairy-tale characters.

A play and competitions were organized in the common room, and actors personally brought small gifts to the children who couldn't leave their beds. Ania participated in a guessing game about her favorite Winnie the Pooh and won a coloring book and a lollipop.

"I answered correctly, didn't I?" Ania assured them,

"Yes, daughter—great.

" "When Daddy gets home from work, we'll tell him?

" "Of course, we'll tell him everything."

The day went by peacefully. Roman came straight from work, and they spent a pleasant afternoon in a small café on the ground floor. Tomorrow morning, the results of the blood tests were supposed to be back, and they might "give us an answer as to what caused Ania to faint," as "their doctor" explained.

The next morning, Joanna woke up first, as usual. She thought they might find out what was wrong with their daughter today. She was nervous. She called Roman.

"I'm worried about Ania.

" "What happened?" Did something happen last night?

- No, no, Ania is still sleeping. I'm worried about these results. The doctor said we might find out what's wrong with Ania.

- I'll be with you in about half an hour.

- What about work?

- I'll call to say I'll be a little late.

- We'll wait, bye.

During his rounds, the doctor asked Joanna and Roman to come to his office.

- Has anything been announced yet?

- We'll talk about it calmly when you come to see me.

- But is it okay? Joanna knew she wouldn't get the answer to this question for a moment, but she couldn't resist asking.

- Please wait for our conversation. The doctor ended the conversation and moved on to the next room.

Joanna couldn't sit still. She was so nervous! What if it turned out to be something serious? That they'd be in the hospital longer? That Ania would have to undergo some painful procedures? They waited impatiently for the doctor outside his office.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Ania requires further treatment," the doctor began,

"Is it something serious?" Joanna felt the familiar feeling of "pressure" that always accompanied her in stressful situations,

"We need to transport your daughter to the pediatric oncology ward; we suspect leukemia."

The conversation couldn't continue because Joanna began her

desperate cries, which lasted for days and nights. From then on, only Roman contacted the doctors.

Part III:

"We will do everything we can," Joanna had heard these words from doctors many times. She had heard them when she hoped she would be able to bear a child, and she heard them now, when she longed for no one to take him away from her. For only a few years, she had enjoyed the joy of experiencing this miracle, which was now coming to an end, only to plunge her forever into infinite sadness. Ania lay in her hospital bed, small and defenseless, connected to IVs, fighting for every day of her life. She had already survived chemotherapy, but it hadn't defeated the disease. Her parents stayed close to her, listening to every word, every request, uttered in her weak voice. Ania was a brave girl, rarely complaining about the pain

and discomfort associated with her illness. Chemotherapy had caused her much suffering; her hands were pricked by the IVs, and her hair had fallen out. Joanna and Roman, each in their own way, experienced despair and helplessness. Joanna completely isolated herself

from life, only returning home to change clothes and gather essentials (she didn't want to miss a moment of contact with her child). She barely spoke (except for talking to Ania, singing to her, and telling stories) and in terse conversations with her husband. She slept little and felt no hunger. Beyond the bare minimum, she stopped caring for herself. She thought of nothing but her daughter's illness. She was as miserable as a mother who loses a child can be. Roman was responsible for organizing daily life, keeping the house tidy (although now he only came home at night), and keeping the family informed about Ania's treatment. He spoke with doctors and tried to keep Joanna's spirits up. He also tried to summon up hope for his daughter's recovery. In the doctors' statements, he heard only words indicating a chance for recovery. He picked out the positives and repeated them to himself. He stopped watching sports and sending lottery tickets. He started going to church every day. He had an old soul and a tired body. He tried hard to believe

in miracles—if he had believed a few years ago, when they were waiting for Ania, why wouldn't he believe now? "We will do everything in our power"—he believed in those words, because he believed in everything that gave his child even a glimmer of hope for life.

The last day of their daughter's life was sunny, and spring was in the air. Ania—Joanna and Roman's joy and hope—after several years of bringing them happiness, was gone forever. Destiny proved stronger than feelings.