At just 8 years old, Aiden has watched his little brother JJ go through things no child should ever have to face. And while he’s always been by JJ’s side—with hugs, giggles, and shared toys—there’s a part of him that still doesn’t fully understand why JJ was so sick, or why life suddenly became so different.
Cancer is a hard word for a child to grasp. Aiden didn’t understand the hospital stays, the machines, or why JJ couldn’t always play like they used to. But what he did understand was love. He knew JJ needed him, and he showed up in the only way he knew how—with kindness, patience, and a heart full of brotherly care.
Aiden is curious, playful, and full of energy. He’s learning to navigate a world that hasn’t always made sense, and through it all, he’s grown into a gentle, thoughtful boy who reminds us daily that even in confusion, love speaks loudest.
JJ’s Journey with Cancer
On December 13, 2023, I took my sweet boy JJ to urgent care in Marion. He’d been unusually fussy—tugging at his ear, bloated, constipated. I thought maybe it was an ear infection. But when the provider saw his swollen belly, she didn’t hesitate. “Get him to the ER—now.”
We rushed to McLeod Hospital. His dad left work to meet us there. Bloodwork, X-rays, and exams followed. Yes, he had an ear infection and strep throat—but the X-ray revealed something far more terrifying: an enlarged liver. We were referred to a pediatric GI specialist in Columbia, and by Monday, December 18, JJ was admitted to the hospital.
That’s when everything changed.
An ultrasound revealed a massive tumor on his right kidney, pressing against his liver. A CT scan confirmed it: a 13-centimeter mass—twice the size of the kidney itself. It was growing rapidly, causing his stomach to swell and his blood pressure to spike. I remember staring at the screen, numb, as doctors explained what came next.
On December 22, JJ underwent major surgery to remove the tumor and his entire right kidney. The mass weighed three pounds—about the size of a dodgeball. It was sent to pathology. We waited, prayed, and hoped. But the results came back: it was cancer.
JJ was placed in the ICU, sedated and on life support. For 12 excruciating days, we sat by his side, watching machines breathe for him, praying for any sign of progress. Christmas came and went in a blur of beeping monitors and silent tears. On January 1, 2024, JJ finally opened his eyes. It was the most beautiful moment of my life.
But there was no time to rest. Just three days later, he had surgery to place a port and began his first round of chemotherapy. Over the next year, JJ endured 28 rounds of chemo and 6 rounds of abdominal radiation. He lost his hair, his energy, and so many moments of childhood—but never his spirit. He fought through every needle, every nausea-filled night, every setback
On December 2, 2024, his port was removed. And on December 10, JJ rang the bell—his tiny hand gripping the rope, his eyes shining with pride. He had finished treatment. He had made it.
But the road didn’t end there.
Since then, JJ has broken both his leg and his elbow—requiring multiple surgeries. We learned he has Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI), or brittle bone disease, as well as spina bifida. He’s now under the care of an endocrinologist, and we’re preparing to begin infusion treatments to help strengthen his fragile bones.
There have been so many moments of fear, grief, and exhaustion. I’ve watched my child suffer in ways no child should. I’ve held him through pain, through panic, through nights when I didn’t know how we’d make it to morning. But JJ is still here. Still smiling. Still fighting.
He is our miracle. And your support—your kindness—means more than words can ever say. Thank you for standing with families like ours. You help carry us through the darkest days, and remind us that we are not alone.