For six-year-old Dominik Misiuk from the small town of Bielsk Podlaski in northeastern Poland, childhood should have been full of color.

He loved flowers, sunshine, and painting — little joys that brightened his family’s home. But now, those colors were fading. Slowly, bit by bit, light was slipping away from his world.

It started quietly. His parents noticed him squinting more often or leaning close to his drawings. At first, they thought it was a simple vision problem. Glasses could fix that.

But the truth was far harsher. Dominik was diagnosed with childhood glaucoma, a rare, aggressive condition threatening vision even in young children.

The diagnosis hit like a lightning strike. Doctors explained that fluid buildup increased pressure inside his eyes, pressing on the optic nerve that carries images to the brain. Once those nerves die, they can’t be restored. The damage is permanent.

Dominik’s parents tried to accept the reality. Their son’s vision was slipping away, and there was nothing they could do alone.

At first, surgery offered a glimmer of hope. Doctors performed a trabeculectomy on both eyes, creating new drainage paths for the fluid. For a while, it seemed to work. Dominik could still see his mother’s smile, the blue sky, and his favorite green toy truck.

But relief was short-lived. Months later, during a follow-up, the doctors’ expressions turned grave. Pressure had returned. The disease was advancing — faster than before.

Dominik’s parents embarked on an endless journey through hospitals and clinics, searching for experts who could give their little boy a fighting chance. They traveled across Poland — from Bielsk Podlaski to Bytom and Wrocław — covering hundreds of kilometers for hope. Each visit meant new tests, new scans, new bills.

Their savings vanished in months. Yet giving up was not an option.

At just six years old, Dominik had already undergone multiple surgeries. His parents watched helplessly as the world faded. His stronger right eye had a narrow field of vision — only ten percent of normal. His left eye could barely detect light.

During a comprehensive check in Bytom, the news worsened. His optic nerves functioned at only three percent.

Three percent — a figure almost like a death sentence for a child who still painted rainbows and smiled at flowers.

Yet even in this darkness, a flicker of hope remained.

Experts in Bytom shared an advanced treatment: Eyetronic therapy. This electrical stimulation technique activates surrounding cells of the optic nerve, encouraging them to function more efficiently and potentially slow degeneration. For Dominik, it could improve his vision by up to fifteen percent — a small number, but life-changing.

Fifteen percent meant seeing his mother’s face clearly again. Watching the sunrise. Reading books. Living without fear.

But Eyetronic therapy was costly. Ten days of treatment cost 32,000 złoty — more than most families earn in several months. Dominik needed at least two rounds a year, not including travel, accommodation, and rehabilitation.

For parents who had already spent thousands on surgeries and therapies, the price seemed impossible. But when your child’s future depends on it, “impossible” loses meaning.

Through the Siepomaga Foundation, Poland’s largest medical crowdfunding platform, Dominik’s parents launched an emergency campaign. Their message was simple, heartfelt, and full of hope:

“Our son is losing his vision. Without this treatment, darkness may take him forever. Please help us keep the light alive.”

The response was overwhelming. Strangers across Poland — teachers, students, retirees, and even other parents with sick children — donated. Some gave large sums, others small amounts, but each contribution carried the same message: you are not alone.

Every time a donation came in, Dominik’s mother showed him the names on her phone.
“See, my love?” she whispered. “These are the people helping you see the world.”

And slowly, hope returned.

The first Eyetronic treatment arrived. Dominik, though sick, approached it with curiosity rather than fear.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
His parents gently reassured him.
“It will feel a little strange, but it helps your eyes see better.”

Tiny electrical pulses stimulated the optic pathways. For ten days, doctors monitored his reactions and adjusted the therapy carefully. Each night, Dominik lay beside his favorite teddy bear, whispering the things he hoped to see next: “a rainbow, a butterfly, a red flower.”

For his parents, each session was a mix of anxiety and prayer. Would it work? Could their son preserve even a bit of his vision?

Doctors warned them not to expect miracles. Eyetronic couldn’t restore what was lost. But it could protect what remained. For Dominik, a fifteen percent improvement meant a whole new life.

The journey wasn’t over. Treatments needed repetition to maintain results. Each round cost thousands, plus travel from Bielsk Podlaski to Bytom. Rehabilitation sessions, using advanced visual feedback systems, taught Dominik’s brain to use his limited vision efficiently. These sessions took place in Wrocław — over 500 km away.

Every trip was a full day. Fuel, lodging, missed work. But his parents never hesitated.
“We’ll drive anywhere,” his father said softly. “If it helps you see.”

Dominik faced his condition with astonishing courage. He never complained about repeated hospital visits, bright exam lights, or whirring machines. He greeted doctors with a smile, even when his eyes ached.

At home, he still painted — not perfectly, but imaginatively. His artwork exploded with wild colors: orange suns, purple trees, blue cats. His mother kept every piece, a living record of the colors he refused to let fade.

But time was not on their side. Childhood glaucoma can progress quickly, especially when both eyes are affected. Without ongoing treatment, remaining optic nerves could fail, leaving him in total darkness.

The thought terrified his parents.
“He’s only six,” his mother cried. “He hasn’t even seen the sea. He loves flowers, colors — the world is still so new to him. I can’t imagine telling him he’ll never see the ocean.”

For now, Dominik could still distinguish shapes and light. He recognized his mother’s silhouette. He saw the bright yellow sunflowers beside his bed. But each day, these images faded further.

Doctors urged immediate continuation of Eyetronic therapy. The next round was scheduled, but funds were still insufficient. Every day of delay risked irreversible damage.

Despite exhaustion and fear, Dominik’s parents clung to hope. Their campaign continued, and each message from a supporter rekindled their faith in humanity. Some simply said: “Stay strong, little hero.” Others shared stories of overcoming vision loss. All reminded the family that kindness shines even in the darkest moments.

Dominik’s case caught attention in Poland’s medical community. Ophthalmologists and pediatric neurologists closely monitored his progress. His response could help treat other children with congenital glaucoma. His courage, though small, might illuminate a path for others.

And that alone was remarkable — a child fighting not only for his sight, but for hope beyond himself.

Late at night, when the house was silent, Dominik’s mother often sat by his bed, listening to his even breathing. She stroked his hair, thinking of all they had endured: surgeries, sleepless nights, fear of losing him. Yet she also remembered strangers’ generosity, how people came together. That gave her strength to continue.

She dreamed of the day Dominik would see clearly again — the sky, trees, the colors he loved. She dreamed of taking him to the seaside, to see waves crash and the horizon stretch endlessly before him.

Until then, every small victory mattered. Every morning he awoke and smiled at the sunlight streaming through the window was a blessing. Every laugh, every drawing, every flicker of color was a triumph over a disease trying to steal it all.

The battle is ongoing. The fundraising campaign reached nearly ninety percent, but time is running out. Treatment must start soon before damage becomes irreversible. The family’s message remains urgent:

“We cannot stop fighting. Every donation, every prayer, every act of kindness brings us closer to saving Dominik’s vision. Please help before the light fades forever.”

Thousands have responded. Few can imagine watching a child lose sight, yet everyone understands protecting what is precious. Dominik’s story is not just about illness; it is about love, faith, and hope — even in the harshest circumstances.

Ultimately, Dominik’s fight to save his sight is more than medicine — it is spirit. It is preserving the light inside a child who still finds beauty everywhere, believing the world is worth seeing even as it dims.

That is what makes his story powerful: the quiet defiance of a boy refusing to stop seeing life in color.

As his mother whispers at night, holding his small hand:
“You will see the light again, my son. We will fight together — until the very last ray.”

And so they continue the fight — for vision, for love, for the light.

Because sometimes, even in darkness, a single spark of hope is enough to keep the world alive.