For years, Matthew Goodman’s war medals sat quietly in a drawer.
They were never displayed. Never polished. Never used to draw attention. To Matthew, a former Royal Marine, those medals were deeply personal—symbols of service, sacrifice, and survival. They represented years spent far from home, moments of fear and discipline, and choices made under extreme pressure. They carried memories that words could never fully capture.
And so, he kept them tucked away in silence.
Until one story changed everything.
When Matthew came across an online campaign for four-year-old Lottie Woods-John, something inside him shifted. Lottie was not connected to him by blood, friendship, or geography. He had never met her. Yet her story reached him in a way nothing else ever had.
Suddenly, those medals no longer felt like relics of the past.
They felt like a lifeline.
Lottie is just four years old. At an age when most children are learning to ride bikes, draw pictures, and chase bubbles in the garden, she is fighting neuroblastoma—a rare and aggressive childhood cancer that affects fewer than 100 children in the UK each year, most of them under the age of five.
Matthew read about her battle and felt his chest tighten.
“When I came across Lottie’s campaign, I was heartbroken,” he said. “Reading about a child going through that kind of suffering—it stays with you.”
A married father-of-one from Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, Matthew understands the instinct to protect a child at all costs. His daughter, Freya, is still young. The thought of watching her endure pain, invasive treatments, and the uncertainty of cancer was unbearable.
And in that moment, Matthew knew he couldn’t simply scroll past.
“I couldn’t do nothing,” he said quietly.
Matthew had served five years in the Royal Marines, completing tours in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Northern Ireland. His medals were earned through real danger—through endurance, courage, and commitment under circumstances few civilians ever experience.
Yet when he looked at them now, he saw something different.
“My medals were just sitting in a drawer doing nothing,” he explained. “If they could be used for something worthwhile—something that could help keep a little girl alive—then that mattered more.”
Without hesitation, Matthew listed all three of his service medals on eBay. There was no second-guessing, no emotional struggle over parting with them.
“They were awarded for the sacrifices I made,” he said. “But I’m happy to forgo that honour if it helps a child in desperate need.”
Lottie’s journey began in June 2016, when her parents, Charlotte Woods and David John, noticed subtle signs that something wasn’t right. Lottie was vomiting frequently, and at first, they believed it was nothing more than a stomach bug—something every parent encounters.
But when her tummy began to swell, fear crept in.
They rushed her to A&E at St Peter’s Hospital in Chertsey, Surrey, where doctors delivered news that shattered their world. Inside Lottie’s abdomen was a melon-sized tumour.
Further tests confirmed the worst: stage 4 neuroblastoma.
The cancer had already spread to her bones and bone marrow.
For Charlotte and David, life changed in an instant.
Lottie began chemotherapy immediately. Despite her tiny body, she endured round after round of harsh treatment with astonishing bravery. Hospital corridors became familiar. Needles, scans, and long nights replaced playdates and bedtime stories.
Last year, Lottie underwent a gruelling 13-hour operation, during which surgeons managed to remove 95 percent of the 12-centimetre tumour. It was a major victory—but not a cure.
Now, Lottie is receiving immunotherapy in the hope of destroying the remaining cancer cells. Yet doctors have delivered another devastating reality: she has only a 20 percent chance of surviving the next five years, and an 85 percent chance of relapse.
There is hope—but it lies far from home.
A groundbreaking vaccine treatment in the United States could significantly reduce the risk of the cancer returning. The treatment is cutting-edge, but the cost is overwhelming: £200,000.
And time is running out.
“We’re living day to day,” Charlotte said. “One minute Lottie is happily playing in the garden, and the next she’s spiking a temperature and being rushed to hospital in an ambulance. We don’t know what the future holds.”
Charlotte is now Lottie’s full-time carer, dedicating every moment to her daughter’s survival. The family needs to secure the vaccine treatment urgently—before the window of opportunity closes.
When Matthew reached out to say he was selling his medals to help, Charlotte was left stunned.
“I was speechless,” she said. “He risked his life for those medals. He doesn’t even know Lottie, and yet he’s willing to give them up to help keep her alive. It’s mind-blowing.”
Matthew, however, rejects the idea that he’s done anything extraordinary.
“Raising that amount of money is a monumental task,” he said. “But if people stand up and support families like Lottie’s, it makes all the difference.”
When the medals are gone, Matthew says he won’t feel loss—only purpose. In their place, he plans to wear a childhood cancer awareness ribbon.
“I want to set an example for my daughter,” he said. “To show her compassion. To show her that making sacrifices for others matters.”
Then he paused.
“For me,” he added softly, “nothing is worth a child’s life.”
And in that simple truth, Matthew Goodman’s decision becomes more than a gesture. It becomes a reminder that heroism doesn’t always happen on the battlefield.
Sometimes, it happens quietly—
in a drawer,
in a choice,
in the willingness to give up honour
so a child might have a future.
They Made Fun of His Scar… Not Knowing It Saved His Life
When Leo Hutchinson entered the world, he appeared healthy and perfect in every way. Like most newborns, he slept peacefully, curled into his parents’ arms, unaware that beneath his soft skin, something was already terribly wrong.
Hidden from view, the bones of Leo’s skull were fusing together far too early. As his brain began to grow—as every baby’s does—it had nowhere to expand. Week by week, pressure built inside his head, silently threatening his development, his eyesight, and his life itself.
Doctors soon delivered a diagnosis no parent is ever prepared to hear: sagittal craniosynostosis. It is a rare and dangerous congenital condition in which one or more seams of the skull close prematurely. Without urgent intervention, Leo faced a future of severe brain damage, permanent blindness, seizures—or death.
For Leo’s parents, the news was devastating. Their baby had only just begun life, yet every passing day without surgery brought him closer to irreversible harm. There was no choice, no alternative. Surgery was the only chance to save their son.
At just seven months old, Leo was taken into the operating theatre at Birmingham Children’s Hospital. His tiny body lay surrounded by machines and wires, his future resting entirely in the hands of surgeons. His parents kissed him goodbye, trying to stay strong as doors closed behind him.
What followed were nine excruciating hours of waiting.
Time seemed to stop. Every minute felt heavy with fear. Every thought carried the same terrifying question: Would their baby survive?
Inside the operating room, surgeons carefully cut, separated, and reconstructed Leo’s skull, reshaping it piece by piece to create space for his growing brain. The procedure was delicate, complex, and filled with risk—but it was also nothing short of miraculous.
When the surgery finally ended, Leo was alive.
His life had been saved.
But survival came with a visible reminder—a long scar stretching from ear to ear across his head. It was bold, unmistakable, impossible to ignore. For anyone unfamiliar with his story, it might have looked shocking. For Leo’s family, it was a symbol of hope, sacrifice, and second chances.
As Leo grew, something remarkable happened.
He didn’t hide his scar.
He didn’t feel ashamed of it.
He wore his hair short and faced the world with confidence.
Leo grew into a bright, joyful child who loved football, toy cars, and making people laugh. He was curious, energetic, and full of life. The scar that once terrified his parents became simply a part of who he was—a quiet badge of survival worn without fear.
But Leo’s journey was not over.
At just two years old, doctors discovered swelling near his optic nerve. Once again, his eyesight—and his future—were at risk. Leo underwent a second operation, during which surgeons placed screws in his skull to relieve the pressure and protect his vision.
For a child so young, it was another battle no one should have to face.
Yet Leo endured.
He continued to grow, play, and smile, carrying a strength far beyond his years. His scars never defined him. If anything, they reflected the resilience that lived inside him.
This year marked an important milestone. Leo was preparing to start school—a moment filled with excitement, nerves, and pride. Like many children, he wanted to feel confident. He wanted to look smart. A simple haircut felt like a big step.
So his dad took him to a barbershop in Cardiff. It was meant to be an ordinary, happy moment—a father and son, sharing laughter and anticipation.
But outside that barbershop, everything changed.
A group of teenagers walked past. They noticed Leo’s haircut. Then they noticed the scars on his head. And instead of empathy, they chose cruelty.
They laughed.
They mocked.
They made comments without understanding what they were looking at.
In a matter of seconds, words spoken without thought shattered something precious.
For the first time in his life, Leo felt embarrassed by his scars. The same scars he had once worn with pride suddenly felt like something to hide. He pulled his hoodie up over his head and kept it there for the rest of the day, shrinking away from the world.
When Leo’s mother, Georgia Hutchinson, heard what had happened, her heart broke.
Her son—who had faced surgeries, hospitals, and life-threatening odds—had been undone not by pain, but by cruelty. Years of quiet confidence were shaken by strangers who never stopped to think.
“It broke his little heart,” Georgia said.
Those teenagers didn’t know Leo’s story.
They didn’t know about the sleepless nights in hospital.
They didn’t know about the nine-hour surgery.
They didn’t know that doctors once warned his parents that their baby might not survive.
They didn’t know that without those scars, Leo wouldn’t be alive.
According to the charity Headlines, craniosynostosis affects around one in every 2,000 babies in the UK. Thousands of children grow up carrying scars that tell stories of survival—stories written long before they could speak.
These scars are not signs of weakness.
They are evidence of courage.
They are proof that medicine, love, and determination can rewrite fate.
Leo did not choose his condition.
He did not choose surgery.
He did not choose scars.
But every single day, he chooses bravery simply by being himself.
Cruel words may have shaken his confidence for a moment, but they do not define his future. Leo’s scar is not something to hide—it is a reminder that he fought for his life before most children take their first breath.
It is the mark of a battle survived.
A life saved.
A story that deserves to be told.
Because what some people laughed at…
is the very reason Leo is alive today.
A Simple Rash Led to a Life-or-Death Fight
In a world where parents dream of watching their children grow up healthy, laughing freely, and chasing their dreams, few things are more devastating than hearing the words: “Your child has cancer. For Roman Ensh, those words shattered everything he believed life would be. His son, Artyom, was just six years old when their nightmare began.
It started quietly, almost harmlessly — a small rash on Artyom’s neck. Like many parents, Roman and his wife assumed it was nothing serious, perhaps a mild infection or a passing illness. But when a routine blood test was ordered, their world stopped. The results revealed the unthinkable: T-cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia, one of the most aggressive and fast-moving forms of childhood blood cancer.
From that moment on, life was no longer measured in days of school or bedtime stories, but in hospital visits, test results, and moments of fear. The family rushed to Turkey, determined to give Artyom every possible chance. At Medipol Mega University Hospital, doctors laid out a brutal 10-month treatment plan. Chemotherapy began immediately — not once, but in multiple stages, each more demanding than the last. Artyom endured endless needles, medications that drained his strength, and long stays in intensive care. At one point, his tiny body gave in. His respiratory system shut down, and doctors were forced to place him on a ventilator just to keep him alive. There were moments when Roman feared he was losing his son. Yet somehow, Artyom kept fighting.
Through pain, exhaustion, and fear no child should ever experience, he survived battles that would break even grown adults. He smiled when he could. He held onto his parents’ hands. He endured — because that’s what heroes do. But cancer is cruel. Despite months of aggressive treatment, recent biopsies delivered another heartbreaking blow. The cancer cells were still growing. The chemotherapy had not been enough. Doctors told Roman and his wife the truth no parent wants to hear: a bone marrow transplant was now Artyom’s only chance to survive.
Time was no longer on their side. Miraculously, a donor match was found — a rare and precious gift of hope. But hope came with an overwhelming cost. The transplant and related medical care require more money than the family can possibly afford. Every resource they had has already been exhausted. Artyom is alive today only because of the generosity of strangers who stepped in when the family had nothing left.
And now, once again, they are asking for help.
Artyom is not just a patient. He is a little boy who loves dinosaurs, drawing, and caring for the family’s pets. He dreams of going home, running through the house, playing with his younger sister, and laughing without pain. He dreams of being a child again.
Without the transplant, his future is uncertain. Each passing day without the necessary funds brings him closer to losing the fight. Roman, as a father, can do nothing but hold onto hope, pray for a miracle, and speak from his heart:
“Please help me save my son.”
Every donation matters. Every share matters. Every act of kindness brings Artyom one step closer to the treatment that can save his life. This is not just about money — it is about time, about hope, about giving a child the chance to grow up.
Artyom should be playing with friends, dreaming about the future, and living a carefree childhood — not fighting for survival in a hospital room. But with the support of a compassionate community, there is still a chance to change his story. Please don’t let Artyom’s journey end here.
If you are able, consider donating. If you cannot, please share his story and keep him in your thoughts and prayers. Together, we can help give this little boy the future he deserves — a future filled with laughter, family, and life.
With hope, gratitude, and a father’s desperate love, we ask for your help to make this miracle possible.
Doctors Didn’t Think She’d Survive—Janie Rose Turned One
A year ago, the future of little Janie Rose Clark was filled with uncertainty.
Born on January 8th, 2025, in Centerville, Alabama, Janie’s journey toward her first birthday was anything but ordinary. While most parents dream of first smiles, quiet nights, and gentle beginnings, Janie’s family was immediately thrown into a fight for survival—one that would test their faith, strength, and love in ways they never imagined.
Yesterday, as family and loved ones gathered to celebrate Janie’s first birthday, the room was filled with something far greater than balloons and cake. It was filled with awe. Gratitude. And the overwhelming realization of just how far this little girl has come. Janie’s mother, Chasity Clark, often calls her daughter “a miracle baby in so many ways.” And for good reason.
From the very beginning, Janie’s life was marked by extraordinary challenges. Born with Down syndrome and a serious congenital heart defect, her first days were not spent in quiet nursery rooms, but under the constant watch of doctors and machines. Every heartbeat mattered. Every moment was uncertain.
At just three weeks old, Janie underwent open-heart surgery at Children’s of Alabama—a life-saving procedure that would become the first of many trials in her young life. Her parents watched helplessly as their tiny baby was taken into surgery, praying that her fragile heart would hold on.
But the fight didn’t end there.
After surgery, the unthinkable happened.
Janie coded.
Her heart stopped beating.
For 34 agonizing minutes, doctors performed CPR, refusing to give up on her. Thirty-four minutes that felt like a lifetime to her parents—minutes filled with fear, prayers, and the possibility of saying goodbye far too soon.
Against all odds, Janie survived.
But survival came at a cost.
She was placed on ECMO, a life-support machine that took over the work of her heart and lungs when her body could no longer do it on its own. Complications followed. Blood flow issues caused severe damage, leading to the amputation of her right hand, the loss of several fingers on her left hand, and some of her toes.
Even then, Janie wasn’t finished fighting.
A massive wound developed on her right leg. More procedures followed. More waiting. More moments when her family wondered how such a small body could endure so much pain.
Yet again and again, Janie proved everyone wrong.
Doctors watched in amazement. Nurses grew attached. Her parents stood by her side, learning what it truly means to love without limits.
Ten months after her birth, Janie faced another life-saving surgery. In November, doctors repaired a hole in her heart and replaced her pulmonary valve—an essential step toward giving her a chance at a healthier future. By then, Janie had already fought blood clots, endured countless procedures, and survived challenges that would break even the strongest adults.
But her spirit never wavered.
And then came one of the most powerful moments of her journey.
Janie came home.
Surrounded by the love of her parents, Jake and Chasity, something remarkable happened. Away from hospital walls and constant alarms, Janie began to thrive.
“She was full of life,” Chasity shared.
“She learned to roll over. She learned to sit up.”
It was as if being home gave Janie new strength.
And then came a moment her parents will never forget: Janie took her first few swallows of vanilla yogurt.
For most children, it’s a small milestone. For Janie, it was monumental.
For the first time in her life, she was able to eat by mouth. No feeding tube. No machines. Just a little girl tasting food for the very first time.
“It was the first time she had eaten any type of food,” Chasity said, her voice filled with emotion and pride.
Yesterday’s birthday celebration was about far more than turning one.
It was a celebration of survival.
Of resilience.
Of a child who refused to give up.
For Jake and Chasity, and for everyone who has walked alongside Janie through this journey, her first birthday marked a victory that once felt impossible. Janie is home, surrounded by love, and her future—once clouded with uncertainty—is now filled with possibility.
Janie’s story is one of determination, faith, and unconditional love. She is living proof that even in the darkest moments, hope can endure. That miracles don’t always come quietly—but they come with courage, scars, and strength.
As her family celebrated this monumental milestone, they weren’t just celebrating a birthday. They were celebrating life itself.
Let’s celebrate Janie Rose Clark—a true miracle baby whose first year has already shown the world what resilience looks like.
Her future is bright.
Her spirit is unstoppable.
And with the love of her family and community, there is no limit to how far she can go.
Happy Birthday, Janie Rose.
You are loved beyond measure. 💛
