My name is Joanna and I’m a 36-year-old single mother fighting cancer—for the second time.

In August 2024, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. At 35 years old, with a beautiful 2-year-old daughter relying on me, I was thrown into a battle I never imagined I'd have to face. I went through grueling months of chemotherapy and radiation, and in February 2025, I underwent a full hysterectomy. I believed the worst was behind me. I thought I had made it.

But just when I was beginning to breathe again, doctors found spots on my liver during a routine surgery. They performed a biopsy while I was still on the operating table. When I woke up, I was told the biopsy came back positive for Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma (ALK-positive)—a rare and aggressive form of blood cancer.

Now I’m back in the fight, undergoing six rounds of harsh chemotherapy, followed by a bone marrow transplant. This time, it’s taken an even greater toll on me. I’ve lost all my hair. I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. The most heartbreaking moment came when my daughter didn’t recognize me either. She stared at me with confusion, then turned away. That pain—there are no words.

I now have a port in my chest, and each treatment leaves me weaker and more isolated. I can’t work. Every day is a challenge—not just physically and emotionally, but financially. I'm doing everything I can to keep up with basic living expenses and continue providing for my daughter—her clothes, food, diapers, and everything she needs to feel safe and secure through all this uncertainty.

I try to stay strong for her, but I’m exhausted, scared, and overwhelmed. She’s too young to understand why mommy can’t play, why I’m always tired, or why I cry when she’s not looking. But I know she feels the shift. And I know she needs me—now more than ever.

I’m sharing my story because I need help. Not just financial help—though every bit makes a difference—but emotional support, prayers, and love. Anything that reminds me I’m not alone in this.

I’m fighting every single day to survive, to heal, and to be here for the most important little girl in my life. Please, if you can, help us through this second fight. Help me be here to watch my daughter grow up.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. And thank you for standing with us.