Wilms tumor is cruel. It starts in the kidney, but it doesn't stop there. It grows like a snowball rolling downhill.

First, it destroys the kidney.

Then, it presses on the other organs.

Finally, it causes pain no child should ever feel. And if not treated in time, it spreads throughout the body.

Now, he spends his days lying in bed, feeling what he describes as "a worm biting inside his belly."

It's as if someone is squeezing and tearing at my child's insides, without giving him a single moment of relief.

It all started a month ago, when I took my son to Valleywise Health Medical Center, the only state-funded hospital in Phoenix that treats low-income families like mine.

Both boys had the same symptoms: swollen belly, severe pain, fatigue. Same age, same signs.

In less than two hours, the councilman's son had all the exams, received a diagnosis, and was put on the surgery list that same day.

For my Patrick? "Come back next week to schedule the initial tests."

I begged. I showed them my son's swollen belly. I explained that he hadn't slept in days because of the pain.

But in the end, I had to carry him home, crying in my arms, while watching through the bus window as the other boy left by car, his treatment already scheduled at a private facility.

How do you explain to a child that the system only works for those with connections?

By the time we finally got the tests — three weeks later — the tumor had grown significantly.

Today, while the councilman's son is cured and playing at the park, my son can barely sit up in bed.

His eyes, once full of curiosity, are now always closed, trying to escape the pain.

The surgery, which could have been simple a few months ago, is now complex and expensive — far beyond anything I could ever afford.

The worst moment of my life was when Patrick overheard me crying in the hospital hallway. I didn't know he was awake.

"Daddy, why is that man's son worth more than me?"

Something inside me broke in that moment. Because I had no answer for my son.

Wilms tumor has taken Patrick's left kidney and has started to spread.

But the doctors say there's still hope.

If we act quickly, my son can be saved.

He needs a treatment called "Intensified SIOP Therapy" — a combination of advanced chemotherapy, surgery, and then a drug called Anti-GD2 Immunotherapy, which isn't available through public healthcare.

It's a medication that "teaches" the body to fight off any remaining cancer cells after surgery.

Each dose costs $9,000, and he'll need 8 doses.

But the problem isn't just the medication. The surgery has to be performed using a special technique by doctors who only work in private hospitals.

The total cost of the treatment is $75,000 — an amount I will never be able to earn, no matter how many jobs I take for the rest of my life.

Thanks to God and kind-hearted people, we've already raised $65,000 (86% of the total)

But we're still $9,000 short, and time is running out.

You know what's most painful? Seeing my son trust me, believing that daddy will fix everything, just like I've tried to do since his mother left us.

But this time, I can't do it alone. No matter how many jobs I take, no matter how many Sundays I work.

The tumor is in stage 3, growing quickly. But thank God, it hasn't spread to other organs yet.

If treatment starts now, doctors say there's a 75% chance of cure. Is that a lot or a little? To a father, it's everything.

But with each passing day, that chance shrinks. Time is against us.

I would go to the ends of the earth for my son. But sadly, his time is running out.

The doctors were clear: if we don't start treatment within 6 weeks at the latest, the cancer will reach stage 4 and spread throughout his body.

That's why I'm here, opening up my life and my pain to you.

I'm just a father who would give his own kidney, his own heart, to save his child.

I've already sold everything: our TV, our old refrigerator, even the few keepsakes I had from my wife.

Even so, we're still $9,000 short of completing the treatment.

If you can help, please do it for Patrick.

For the little boy who still believes his daddy will find a way, like he always tries to do.

For God, who led you to read this message today.

Every donation represents a chance for my son — a chance to run, to smile, to live.

The funds go directly to the hospital, and every donor will receive updates about Patrick's health.

If you can, I beg you, donate a larger amount.

Small donations help, but my son's time is running out. That's why every dollar makes a difference.

Whether you can give a little or a lot, know that my gratitude will be eternal.

God sees your sacrifice, and you will be saving the life of an innocent child.

How much does a dinner out cost? A trip to the mall? Maybe $50 or more…

If every person reading this message donates $50, we can reach our goal in just a few hours.

Please, click below and make your donation.
My son, my little Patrick, depends on it to survive.