Meet Gabriel, a forever one year old atypical teratoid rhabdoid tumor (ATRT) warrior.

At six months old, Gabriel was at a check up when the doctor noticed his head size was off the charts. The doctor was not concerned at first but she wanted to do an ultrasound to put their minds at ease. At seven months old, Gabriel was taken for his ultrasound appointment. The ultrasound tech came into the room three separate times to get images which triggered Gabriel’s parents, Erika and Gilberto, to suspect something might be wrong.

The family was advised that his ventricles in his brain were much larger than normal and he possibly needed a shunt. He was sent to the emergency room immediately. A few hours later, the family met with the neurologist who explained that they wanted to do an MRI to take a look at his ventricles much closer. When the MRI was complete, it showed two masses on his brain. The next morning, Gabriel had a biopsy to confirm his diagnosis of ATRT.

On September 29, 2010, Gabriel was diagnosed with ATRT and they were told he had an 11% survival rate, even with treatment. The initial treatment plan included 52 weeks of chemotherapy and 6 weeks of proton therapy radiation. Treatment began in October 2010 and after undergoing 11 months of treatment, an MRI revealed two masses grew back in his brain, two in his spine and one on his kidney. Chemotherapy continued to slow the progression of the tumor with minimal side effects and on January 27, 2012, Gabriel passed away, just a month shy of his second birthday.

Gabriel’s mother, Erika decided that she’d help make an impact on childhood cancer by starting a facebook page to help raise awareness. She helps by arranging a toy drive around the holidays and donating them to kids at the hospital where Gabriel was treated – Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, Scottish Rite Campus and the Aflac Cancer Center.

Learn more about brain tumors here: https://www.acco.org/brain-cancers/

Together, we can make a difference.

Donate today… because kids can’t fight cancer alone®.

Meet Ariana, a 15 year old Stage 3 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma survivor!

Ariana was almost 13 when she started having fevers of 103.5 accompanied with chills. She exhibited pain throughout her body and her lymph nodes were always swollen. On February 14, 2018, Ariana was diagnosed with Stage 3 Hodgkin’s lymphoma and “as parents, we were devastated, sad and angry” Remembers Adriana, Ariana’s mother. 

Intense chemotherapy began immediately which caused her severe nausea, vomiting, pain, numbness and feeling was lost in her toe. 

Throughout her journey, Ariana was able to remain positive and keep fighting. She continued to help others while going through treatment by creating videos which would help in body positivity when she lost her hair and eyelashes. For Ariana’s wish, she asked that her immediate family accompany her to the Bahamas instead of something that was solely for her. 

Ariana was accepted into Del Lago academy based on a lottery to attend the high school. On June 5, 2018, Ariana completed her last treatment. She is currently in remission! Ariana plans to become a pediatric oncology nurse and enjoys playing her Nintendo Switch, watching the show “The Office,” listening to Billie Eilish and continuing helping people by volunteering on the flight for wishes video in Spanish for Telemundo. 

Learn more about lymphoma by clicking here.

The American Childhood Cancer Organization provides resources and support to families of children with childhood cancer. Please donate so we can continue to provide our services free of charge.

Meet Ava, a 16 year old acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) warrior. Ava is a singer/songwriter based in Nashville, TN. ACCO featured Ava in our Circle Up series earlier this year.

The story detailed below is an account written by Ava.

I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember and started taking guitar lessons when I was 7 years old. At age 10, I performed on stage with Kelly Clarkson at a restaurant. This fired my love for entertaining and I started songwriting after being invited to a writer’s night. Since then I’ve been writing and playing gigs all over Nashville. June 2019, I was doing a small tour in Texas, performing at “Cook Children’s Hospital” and a few local venues. During my sets, I was getting out of breath very quickly. When I was flying home, I couldn’t walk terminal to terminal without stopping to catch my breath. My mom (a retired nurse) also noticed I was quite pale. At that moment we knew something was wrong.

We went to my pediatrician as soon as we got home. She ran my blood counts twice because they were so low. She didn’t know exactly what it was, so she sent me to Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. We were hoping it was another disease, but when six doctors walk in, it’s not good. They diagnosed me with ALL and admitted me immediately. The next day, I was in surgery to get a bone marrow biopsy, a lumbar puncture, and have my port placed.

I was getting chemotherapy almost every day. With leukemia, they want to get you in remission in 30 days, and then the rest of your 2 1/2 years is preventative (so it doesn’t come back). A week into my hospital stay, I was able to go home for a week but was quickly sent back to inpatient after spiking a fever.

During my treatment, I hit quite a few road bumps. I found out that I had a mutated form of leukemia known as B-cell, which makes it much harder to treat. They said I would most likely not get in remission in those 30 days. Since I was also on a high dose of Prednisone (120mg a day) I developed medically induced diabetes, and retained fluid. My body eventually adjusted and I was no longer diabetic, but the fluid retention got worse. One night I was rushed to the ICU when there was a significant amount of fluid in my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe properly. My blood counts stay quite low, so I get blood product transfusions very often. I have had more than 50 blood transfusions. The biggest setback, however, happened when my mother found something inside my nose.

Since the chemotherapy damaged my immune system, normal infections I would fight off could now grow freely. One of these infections was found in my nose. When my mother looked, most of my nose was black and necrotic. She called in the nurse, who called in the doctor, and no less than six hours later, I was in surgery. I proceeded to have four more surgeries to remove the fungus. By the sixth surgery, the surgeon couldn’t take any more tissue without destroying the shape of my nose. Things changed, however, when they came back in with a new treatment plan, a new medicine called blinatumomab. This treatment would allow me to still fight cancer while keeping my immune system. With the blinatumomab and a few other medicines, I can happily say months later I’m still fungus free!

We were in the hospital for about a month and a half straight, but there was never a day I was alone. With the help of friends and family, I kept staying positive. I looked at cancer as another crazy chapter to add to my life story. There were days I felt defeated, but a friend would show up and start singing songs and telling stories with me. There would easily be at least 10 singer/songwriter friends in my hospital room at once. The Nashville community has been so supportive and we even sold out my benefit concert in August 2019. Throughout my whole journey, I’ve managed to stay positive and see the good in all the bad.

I am currently going to clinic twice a month, once for lumbar chemotherapy and once for lab checks. I am playing where I can, whatever is covid friendly. I am songwriting like crazy and feeling really good and I’ve been staying busy with online school and online events. I post regular updates on my social media (@AvaPaigeMusic) and am doing well! I’m still performing, writing, and kicking cancer’s butt!!!

The American Childhood Cancer Organization provides resources and support to families of children with childhood cancer. Please donate so we can continue to provide our services free of charge.

Meet Irene, a Ewing’s Sarcoma survivor!

The story detailed below is an account written by Irene.

When I was 20 years old, I was living a fast paced life. I was a full-time university student, working full-time, and a single mother to my son Jason. All that came to an abrupt halt when I was diagnosed with a rare pediatric bone cancer called Ewing’s Sarcoma.

In early 2014, I developed an indescribable, deep ache in my right knee. It took months to get a diagnosis because my symptoms were minimized by doctors. I was told I was over-exaggerating and needed therapy, needed to lose weight, and was accused of pain pill seeking. The pain, and frustration, kept getting worse until I firmly demanded a doctor order imaging on my leg.

“Imaging is showing something bad,” the doctor said. This “something bad” came as a relief because I was finally going to get answers. I underwent a bone biopsy and had to wait a week more for my results. The day after celebrating Mother’s Day with my then 3 year old son, I received a call from the surgeon. “You have a rare cancer called Ewing’s Sarcoma. It is very aggressive, but know that we will fight this even more aggressively.” I collapsed into my kitchen chair in disbelief and put my face in my hands. I didn’t think cancer could happen to me.

I met the chemotherapy oncologist the next day and she told me it was urgent we started treatment so I only had a week to get my affairs in order. I would not be able to continue my schooling and work. Chemotherapy treatment for Ewing’s Sarcoma is one of the toughest cancer protocols out there since there has not been any innovation in years. There is little funding into researching this disease because each year there are only about 200 Ewing’s diagnoses per year in the United States. We have a population of about 330 million.

Since the drugs are so old and toxic, much of the treatment is required to be inpatient. At this point, chemotherapy and surgery didn’t scare me. Being away from Jason and what would happen to him if I did not survive was the most frightening thing about this whole ordeal. Thankfully, Jason’s paternal grandmother stepped up to the plate and became Jason’s primary caregiver for the 10 out of 12 months that I was inpatient, fighting this beast. I knew he was in good hands but having to essentially “give him up,” tore me apart.

In the hospital I did everything I could to make sure my son would remember who I was and that I could still provide him with guidance and comfort, even if I passed away. I recorded my voice reading children’s books for him. I recorded videos for him. I wrote letters to be given to him as he went through different milestones in life that I might miss out on like graduations or his wedding. I also wrote him letters for things we all go through, like failing tests, feeling inadequate, dates, heartbreaks, and more.

I arranged to see him as often as possible, so he would visit me at the hospital on weekends. Seeing him was what motivated me to continue treatment, but I definitely had some low, lows because treatment was absolutely torturous. Staff at the hospital jokingly called me “Murphy’s Law Girl” because almost every possible medical complication that could go wrong in treatment, did go wrong. I laughed along too. After everything I’d been through, I developed a dark sense of humor as a coping mechanism. But there were points that I would beg for treatment to stop so I could go home and be a mom. I was sternly reminded that if I stopped, I may only get a few months with Jason. If I pushed through, I could possibly be a mom for years to come.

In September 2014, I had limb-salvage surgery where a surgeon removed the cancer. I felt overjoyed that I got to keep my leg because I had known since treatment started that amputation was always a possibility. I was almost halfway through treatment. I started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

All that came crashing down in December 2014 when I went home to visit my son for a couple of days. I quickly declined and went into septic shock. The home nurse called paramedics and the amount of pain that I was in could not be controlled because I developed a tolerance to opiate medications after being on them for treatment. The paramedics said there was no more time to try to get me comfortable, so I had to brace myself. I swear with everything in me that I tried to brace myself because I knew my son was able to hear everything going on, but I screamed and cried out in pain.

As they carried me out I looked down and my son was looking up at me in terror. He was watching his mom being carried away, screaming and crying, but I took all the strength left in me to tell Jason that I loved him and that I promised I would be back. I then came to the horrifying realization that I made a bold promise.

It quickly became a decision between life and limb since the sepsis started because a hospital borne pathogen got into my limb-salvage wound. On December 9, 2014 I had an above the knee amputation.

I did not know how to tell Jason that I lost my leg, so it was kept secret. On Christmas Day, he came to visit me. He noticed something was different so he pulled the blanket off of me and said, “mommy your sick leg is gone.” I froze, then responded, “doctors had to take it off because it was making me sicker.” Jason replied, “okay then. Let’s color.” It didn’t matter that his mother’s leg was gone, because his mother was still here.

Despite just having undergone my amputation, I still had to complete treatment. I struggled with being physically sick from chemo, emotionally wrecked from all the trauma, having to learn how to do things as a new amputee, and still being separated from my son.

I was finally declared to be in remission on May 14, 2015. My 5 year remission anniversary was on May 14, 2020, so I am cured!!!

I have had many ups and downs these last 5 years and life isn’t totally easy, per se. But these last 5 years have been the best years of my life. Mine and Jason’s little family grew from two to three, free from drama and abuse; instead with constant support and love from my fiancé Peter. He picks up the pieces when I physically or emotionally cannot, and most importantly, he loves and guides Jason as though he were his own blood. Jason and I are still healing, and Peter is helping us heal.

This experience has shown me what is really important in life, and that is happiness. Life is too short and too fragile to not do what makes you happy. I am humbled and grateful for everything I have now, because knocking on death’s door almost took everything from me. I purposely share my story because I don’t want people to need something catastrophic to happen to them, for them realize what truly matters in life. Happiness matters. And that’s why I can say these last 5 years have been the best of my life, because I finally put my happiness first.

Together, we can make a difference.

Donate today… because kids can’t fight cancer alone®.

Meet Abigail, an acute promyelocytic leukemia survivor with a magnetic personality.

Abigail began her cancer journey in September of 2016 at 14 years old. In the weeks leading up to her diagnosis, he exhibited symptoms of a sinus infection and hip pain. She came home from school with unexplained bruising on her legs and elbows and called her mom to pick her up early. Abigail’s mother, Jill attributed it to a sinus infection and took her to the doctor after finding an enormous bruise on her right hip. Abigail’s platelets were dangerously low and her white blood cell count was outside of the normal range so her doctor sent her to the emergency room. When they arrived at the emergency room, they met Dr. Julie Blatt who knew almost immediately that Abigail had acute promyelocytic leukemia. Abigail and her family were told that the leukemia had a very high cure rate but the treatment was very harsh. 

Chemotherapy started immediately and diagnosis was confirmed with a bone marrow biopsy. The day after starting chemo, Abigail went into respiratory distress and spent four days in the PICU. Abigail spent a total of 34 days in the hospital and lost a lot of weight because she had no appetite. When she returned home, her appetite returned and she began outpatient treatment two weeks later. Despite eating, she still appeared very thin and pale. Abigail had infusions five days a week, four weeks at a time. During her treatment, she experienced hair loss, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, headaches and weakness. She had multiple CT scans and lumbar punctures to monitor her brain. In a routine eye examination, the optometrist discovered that she had swelling in the optic nerve, so for the remainder of chemotherapy was also under the watchful eye of the neuro-opthamologist.

Abigail was declared cancer free in February 2017 and she finished chemotherapy in May of 2017. Because of the cancer and chemo, she had developed some chronic medical conditions that make her feel awful. In spite of her suffering, she goes on with her life. She keeps up with her school work. She goes on outings with her sister and she enjoys spending time with her nephew. 

When Abigail was young, she wanted to be a doctor. After finding out how long school would take, she decided that she wanted to become a nurse instead. She decided to become a pediatric oncology nurse and wants to study at UNC Chapel Hill. She also enjoys interior design and makeup. 

Learn more about leukemia: https://www.acco.org/blog/what-are-the-signs-and-symptoms-of-childhood-leukemia-cancer/

Together, we can make a difference.

Donate today… because kids can’t fight cancer alone®.