A return to windsurfing after bone cancer: Weronika Lato and Max Brinnich on “Reborn on water”

For a year, Max Brinnich followed the 26-year-old surf instructor from Poland – who lost a large part of her pelvis during an operation for aggressive bone cancer – with his camera, and turned the footage into a candid, intense film that captures moments of pain, hope and goosebumps. We learn how a news story gave rise to a film – and a friendship – why Max deliberately left his routine and comfort zone behind for this project, which small steps made a huge difference to Weronika, and much more besides. A conversation about passion and the power to reinvent oneself on the water – and about a film that moves us far beyond the world of windsurfing.

Weronika, were you sure right from the start that you wanted to go public with your illness?

No, there were definitely moments when I hesitated. Going public with my illness meant revealing a very personal and vulnerable part of my life, and I wasn’t sure how people would react or whether I was ready for that kind of openness. But over time, I realised that sharing my story could have a significance that went beyond myself – it could help others feel less alone or misunderstood. I believed my story could be a way of showing others that no diagnosis is final and that you mustn’t give up. So, even though it was difficult, it became a conscious and important decision. At first, I wanted to protect my privacy – it felt safer to keep everything to myself. But over time, I realised that silence also means carrying everything on your own. That feeling of having a purpose – of transforming something painful into something meaningful – gave me the courage to go public, even though it still frightened me, because it meant I couldn’t give up, but had to see it through to the end.

Looking back, did it help you personally?

Yes, it helped me in a way I hadn’t quite expected. Opening up lifted a huge weight off my shoulders – I was no longer carrying everything on my own. It also enabled me to connect with people on a much deeper level. Some people got in touch to share their own stories, and that created a sense of understanding and community that I hadn’t known before. It didn’t make everything easier overnight, but it gave meaning to what I was going through and helped me feel more at peace with it. It also gave me enormous motivation to keep fighting, to overcome the pain and to prove – not just to myself, but to others too – that anything is possible.

What went through your mind when you were given the diagnosis?

I can still picture that moment so vividly, even though part of me wishes I couldn’t. Hearing the word ‘cancer’ wasn’t just shocking – it felt like a physical blow. Even before my mind could even comprehend what was happening, my body reacted. I walked out into the hospital corridor, completely overwhelmed, and suddenly felt sick, as if my body were trying to reject the reality of what I’d just been told. It all felt unreal. I remember saying straight away that I didn’t want an operation. I refused even to think about it. For me, an operation meant losing a part of myself. It meant giving up windsurfing, and at that moment it felt as though I was losing everything. I even said I’d rather die than never be able to windsurf again – and I meant it. It was the only way I could express just how deeply that sport was intertwined with my identity.

Max, did you know Weronika before she was diagnosed?

We’d already known each other a bit from the windsurfing scene and via social media, as is often the case in that community. But we only really got to know each other better after she went public with her diagnosis. Looking back, it feels crazy that a short text message ultimately led to a whole year spent together, a film project and a genuine friendship.

Was it your idea to make a film about her story?

It really was entirely my idea. When Weronika spoke about her illness on social media, I couldn’t get it out of my head and I asked myself: ‘How can I help her?’ And at some point it occurred to me that a film like this might be exactly the motivation she needs to keep going during the toughest moments. We then spent days exchanging messages back and forth. I sent her a first, rough draft of the script and had even edited together the first minute using archive footage. I realised straight away what effect it was having on her and how it was motivating her. That’s when I decided we’d go ahead with it.

How would you describe her personality?

Weronika is one of those people who are both extremely strong and incredibly sensitive. It is this combination that makes her so special. She possesses enormous mental strength, but not in a loud or artificially motivational way; rather, it is quiet and genuine. Even during the most difficult phases, she often still had a sense of humour and the ability to energise others, even though she herself was actually in the thick of the struggle. At the same time, she feels things incredibly intensely. On the one hand, this makes her very emotional and empathetic, but it also means that honesty sometimes hits her harder than was actually intended. That’s why, particularly during the project, there were moments when we had to learn how to get on with one another and understand each other better. But I think that’s exactly what made our collaboration so genuine in the end.

The pelvic surgery that you finally went ahead with, Weronika, comes across as quite drastic in the film. How would you describe the first few days and weeks afterwards?

The operation looks radical in the film, but what came afterwards felt even more extreme from the inside. The first few days and weeks were simply… brutal. There’s no milder word for it. The pain was constant and overwhelming, as if it were filling every part of my body. It wasn’t something that came in waves – it was just there, all the time. I couldn’t do anything on my own. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t sit up properly; even breathing hurt. Something as basic as going to the toilet was impossible without help. I remember feeling trapped inside my own body, completely dependent, stripped of any sense of control or independence. It wasn’t just physical, either. There was that mental shock – the realisation of how quickly everything had changed. One moment I was strong, active, independent … and then suddenly I could no longer move without pain. It was terrifying. There were moments when it felt endless, as if things would never get better. In those moments, there was no strength and no courage, just survival. Simply getting through the next breath, the next hour, in the hope that things would somehow, slowly, get better again.

"I even said I’d rather die than never be able to windsurf again."

You made rapid progress at some point. Did you have professional support from coaches and physiotherapists, or was it mainly down to willpower and a regular routine?

I was really lucky to have such strong professional support, especially at the start. My physiotherapist, Iwona Skorupa from the Medikar Rehab Centre, was incredible – she came to my home almost every day during that initial phase. At that point, I couldn’t do much on my own yet, so it made a huge difference to have someone there all the time. Later, once I’d got a bit stronger, we moved the sessions to the rehab centre, which became part of establishing a routine. I tried to make the most of every possible moment to work on getting stronger again. Even the smallest movements felt like steps forward. Ultimately, the professionals guided me, but a large part of it came down to determination – simply refusing to give up, to reclaim my body and my life.

How long did the whole process take, from leaving the hospital to gliding across the water for the first time?

From the moment I left hospital, it was all about rebuilding – step by step. At first, it wasn’t about windsurfing at all. It was about learning how to function again, how to move and how to trust my body. Less than four months later, I stood on a beginner’s board for the first time. That moment meant the world to me – not because of the achievement, but because it meant I was back. And then, just a few days later, I was gliding on my own little board for the first time. Looking back, it sounds quick, but whilst I was going through it, it didn’t feel quick at all. Every single day was hard work, both physically and mentally.

What was it like for you, Max, working with Weronika during such a difficult time?

There were definitely difficult moments during the project. Mainly because we didn’t make the film after she’d recovered, but right in the middle of the whole process. A lot of things were still completely up in the air at that point. Despite everything, Weronika showed incredible mental strength and, at the same time, a sense of humour that you can sense in parts of the film. I think that’s exactly what impressed me most throughout the whole project. Of course, there were also moments when you realised just how hard it all really is – physically and mentally. And that’s precisely where I sometimes had to learn not just to be a filmmaker, but simply to listen and see the person behind the story. At the same time, however, it was also important that, from a certain point onwards, I was able to tell the story with a bit more distance. Particularly with a documentary film that’s not just intended for a close circle of friends but is meant to reach a wider audience, you sometimes need an outside perspective. Weronika was, of course, always an important part of the process, but I also needed creative freedom.

That sense of freedom is what really drives a filmmaker like you, isn’t it?

Exactly, that was one of the reasons why I started this project. In my day job, as a videographer and team producer for Porsche in motorsport, I often work within clear structures and guidelines – here, I wanted to be able to work in a more intuitive and emotional way again. Because although I love my job, after six years I was feeling quite burnt out and was looking for inspiration. I wanted to produce something of my own that would inspire me, and not just keep filming the same people, garages and cars – but to do something with real depth for a change. Over the course of this whole year, Weronika has also become a bit like a little sister to me. I think that’s exactly why, at some point, the film became far more than just another project for me.

What was the biggest physical hurdle you faced in getting back out on the water, Weronika?

If I had to pinpoint the core problem, it was restoring stability and control to my body – particularly around the pelvis and the deep muscles that hold everything together. At the start, it wasn’t about strength in the sporting sense. It was about fundamental things like range of motion, coordination and the ability to activate muscles, which had practically shut down after the operation. My body no longer felt like a coherent system. The healing of the soft tissue also played a major role, as everything needed time to settle down before I could put any strain on it.

And mentally?

The hardest part mentally was the loss of certainty – that feeling of not knowing who I would be on the other side of it all. It’s one thing to cope with pain and physical limitations, but it’s something else entirely when your identity is built on something you suddenly can no longer do. For me, windsurfing wasn’t just a sport – it was my anchor, my freedom, my sense of direction in life. And suddenly there was this void where everything used to be. What made it really hard was not knowing how long it would last or whether I’d ever feel the same as I did before. There were days when I saw no progress, when I couldn’t make out a clear path forward, and that uncertainty can be very mentally draining.

If you hadn’t had windsurfing on your mind… Do you think you’d have bounced back so strongly and so quickly?

​No, I don’t think so. Windsurfing was the driving force behind it all. Without the sport in the back of my mind, I probably wouldn’t have got through the pain, the exhaustion and the slow progress in the same way. It gave me a clear reason to get up every day and do the work, even when it was difficult or I felt like nothing was changing. There were many moments when recovery felt monotonous and gruelling, and in those moments it was the thought of being back on the water that kept me going. That wasn’t just motivation – it was a sense of direction. Windsurfing gave the whole process a sense of purpose. I believe that without the sport in the back of my mind, my recovery would have been very different – slower, less focused and probably not with the same outcome.

"A lot of things were still completely up in the air whilst we were filming – that’s what made working together so special."

Max, what was it like when Weronika was back on the water?

I remember it vividly: Prasonisi, a wind of about 25 knots, sunset, hardly anyone at the spot – and just that feeling that gave me goosebumps all over. At that moment, you could feel that suddenly it wasn’t just about therapy or making progress anymore, but about reclaiming a piece of your own life. And moments like that are actually impossible to plan or stage. They just happen – and that’s exactly why they feel so real in the film.

What, on the other hand, was the hardest part for you?

Those were the interviews – the conversations with her mother, in particular, really moved me. It was no longer about sport or windsurfing, but about genuine fear, hope and the question of how a family copes with a situation like that. During filming, there were moments when, behind the camera, you forgot you were actually working because the emotions were so real. I think it’s precisely this honesty that you can feel in the film later on.

"Windsurfing was the driving force behind it all."

Did you have a vision – something you wanted to achieve with the film?

Of course, windsurfing plays a major role in the film, but it’s actually about something much more universal: passion, identity, fear, hope and the question of what drives a person to keep fighting on, come what may. I also wanted to show that behind social media posts and sporting successes there’s often a much deeper story that you don’t even see. If, by the end, the film manages to make someone look at their own life, their passion or even difficult situations in a slightly different light, then the project will have achieved exactly what I’d hoped for.

What is it about windsurfing that fulfils and drives you so much, Weronika?

It’s that feeling of freedom – that’s really what it all comes down to for me. When I’m out on the water, everything else simply fades away. All my problems, all the pressure, everything that weighs heavily on land – it’s as if it’s left behind on the shore. There’s just the wind, the water and the movement. Nothing else matters at that moment. I don’t think about what’s going on in my life or what I’m currently busy with – I’m simply completely and utterly there. That sort of mental tranquillity and freedom is rare. It gives me a place where I feel completely free, no matter what’s happening outside of it.

Are you back to 100 per cent on the water now?

I wouldn’t even go so far as to say that I’m simply back to 100 per cent fit – in some ways, I actually feel stronger than before. I’ve pulled off my first freestyle tricks like Vulcans and Spocks, and I’ve learnt how to duck as well – I’m really proud of that. It also feels as though I’ve come back with a different outlook and a new sense of appreciation.

What are your goals for the future in windsurfing and in life in general?

I want to take part in competitions, and I won’t stop until I’m on the podium in freestyle. I know it’s going to be tough, but I’ve already proved to myself that I can get through difficult times and come out stronger. Apart from that, I’ve set up a charity with my brother Sebastian Lato – the Fundacja “Wygrać Życie”. Its aim is to provide psychological and financial support to children who have had bone cancer, so that they can get back on their feet and never give up. Medicine is like the cinema – anything is possible.

“Reborn on Water” – the film