Most Love Bus supporters know that Lucy’s Love Bus was born from a child’s dream - Lucy Grogan’s dream - but many don’t know the child behind the dream. Since May is Lucy’s birthday month - she would be 29 this year - we are proud to introduce you to the guiding force behind Lucy’s Love Bus. Meet Lucy, your May Butterfly Buddy! Lucy was the oldest sibling to Willow and Eli, and the daughter of Beecher and Rick Grogan. She was an old soul from the start; an intense child with a strong sense of self, who always held her head high. She knew who she was and proudly marched to the beat of her own drum. She was known for her spunk, humor, creativity, and her love of babies and animals. One summer, soon after turning 8 years old, Lucy experienced ten days of seemingly unrelated health issues. She began limping on her left leg, but since her mom had just had a hip replacement, her teachers chalked it up to sympathy pains. She had strep throat that wouldn’t go away. She got a stiff neck, serious enough to get a muscle relaxer from her doctor. But alarm bells rang when Lu came home from school one afternoon with pale lips. Beecher, worried that her daughter had lyme disease, took her to the pediatrician’s office where Lucy’s nurse practitioner ordered multiple blood tests. Late that night, Beecher received the call that no parent ever wants to get. She was told to bring Lucy to a Boston hospital immediately and, after pressing the doctor for more information, found out that they thought that Lucy had leukemia. Beecher remembers, “We just went. There was no time to pack, feel, or think. It felt like the bottom of my world fell out. You just get ripped out of your life, everything changes in a split second.” At 3am, at the Boston Children’s Hospital emergency room, Lucy was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML), one of the most fatal types of blood and bone marrow cancer. At the time, the 5-year survival rate for a child with AML was fifty percent (it has since gone up to sixty percent), and Beecher recalls envisioning the toss of a coin, saying “I knew that I could be the best advocate for Lucy that I could possibly be, but there was still a very real chance that it wouldn’t matter. I had to let go of control, and learned to focus on the one thing I could impact, which was her day to day quality of life.” The doctors in the ER explained the diagnosis to Beecher and Lucy. Beecher couldn’t stop her tears, but Lucy didn’t cry. The intensity she carried through her childhood seemed to dissipate in that moment. She listened to the doctors with an ease and calm beyond her years, and told her mom, “stop crying, Mama. I’m going to be fine.” Beecher learned to live by her now favorite phrase, ‘follow the child,’ stating, “Lucy always knew exactly what she needed, and what her body could tolerate. She listened to her body, so I made sure to always listen, too.” Beecher and Lucy moved into Boston Children’s Hospital for months at a time. Because Rick’s job provided their health insurance, he worked full time while Beecher spent six nights each week at the hospital and he would take a shift for one night of the week. Willow was supported at home by her dad, and a rotating group of Beecher’s mama friends. “Our community really stepped up when Lucy was sick. From home cooked meals to care packages, to fundraisers, we felt so loved and embraced during a time when our world fell apart,” Beecher said. Spending eleven months in the hospital through six rounds of chemotherapy, Lucy found ways to survive the trauma of treatment. She was very friendly, and had a unique sense of humor, making friends easily. She found the babies on the unit, and loved to help take care of them. She also discovered integrative therapies; at the hospital, she spent lots of time in the hospital’s art room, and at home she received acupuncture, massage, chiropractic care, and Reiki to help ease her pain and suffering during treatment. Lucy’s unlimited access to integrative therapies was made possible by the funds that were raised for Lucy through the greater Amesbury community, and would later set the stage for her vision for Lucy’s Love Bus. After Lucy turned 9, she was declared to be in remission. However, the time at home wasn’t easy; Lucy left the hospital with a severe case of OCD, survivor's guilt, and serious depression. When she was bullied at public school for her OCD, Rick and Beecher moved her to Sparhawk, a private school in Amesbury. At Sparhawk, Lucy got her wish to be treated like a normal child, and she thrived. At one point, Beecher quietly celebrated when the Headmaster’s Assistant called to say that Lucy got in trouble at school. Lucy’s spirit had been crushed by treatment, and all of the losses she had already accumulated in her short life, so when she was caught hiding in the woods, throwing rocks at the boys, Beecher rejoiced- knowing that her daughter’s spark and spunk were back! Beecher, Rick, and Willow got to have the old Lucy back for a year before her cancer relapsed; she was nearing the age of eleven, Willow was six, and Beecher was pregnant with Eli. Lucy had to have total body radiation and high doses of chemo to kill her bone marrow in preparation for a bone marrow transplant. Lucy had to have four radiation treatments that would not only kill the bone marrow, but would kill Lucy’s fertility as well. The night before she started radiation, Lucy told Beecher that she would not be able to sit still for radiation while they “killed her babies.” She had the foresight to know that she would need to be sedated during radiation. The hospital staff had a really hard time believing that a 10-year-old could care so much about her fertility, but Lucy did. Beecher had scoured the internet, and learned that there was no way to preserve Lucy’s fertility, but she was able to advocate for her daughter to be sedated during the heartbreak of radiation. Lucy then had a bone marrow transplant from an unrelated donor, and spent 100 days in the hospital waiting for the graft - the new marrow from the donor - to kick in. Unfortunately, Lucy became one of the ten percent of people who get chronic graft vs. host disease. The new immune system started attacking her skin and then it moved on to attack each of her organs - her heart, lungs, liver. Each attack was countered with months of high dose steroids, which wreak havoc on one’s mental health and body, especially a small body. While Lucy persevered through these excruciating cycles for 18 months, she never got her spark back. Lucy joined her 22 friends from the hospital and left this world on July 21st of 2006. The story of Lucy’s Love Bus starts with Lucy, and her wisdom and lived experience are still at the center of each decision the organization makes today. Lucy was adamant that at Lucy's Love Bus, the needs of children would come first- always. We’re thankful to our community of supporters for following the child- trusting the child, and investing in Lucy’s Love Bus so we can continue to innovate for children who are suffering right now- children for whom a cure might come too late. Beecher recounts, “I was so proud of Lucy every minute of her life. I’m proud of the caregiver she was. I’m proud of what a strong sense of self she had. I’m proud that her legacy of care and compassion lives on through Lucy’s Love Bus. She was a force to be reckoned with, and I know that she would be so honored by the tremendous love and comfort that is generated for children in her name.” One week before her death, Lucy made one final art project in the hospital’s play room - a Japanese paper mobile- and asked her mom to write these words on it: “Let love in. Live life with love.” Thanks to all of you, we do. We will. Keep Lucy’s Love and Light alive by joining our Butterfly Effect today!
Dear Love Bus Supporters, As this year comes to a close, we want to share how your support has changed our lives. You may not know us, but because of you—and because of Lucy’s Love Bus—we’re able to look toward the future with hope. My name is Donald – and my story with cancer began during my junior year of high school. I spent most of my teenage years as a pretty normal high school kid. At 17, everything changed very quickly. One day I was at soccer practice, and the next, I was in overnight emergency surgery to remove a tumor from my spine. I was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma, and my life instantly shifted from school and sports to hospitals and survival. The months that followed were a blur of hospitals, tests, and treatments — fourteen rounds of chemotherapy and five weeks of daily radiation. And to start it all off, I was asked to make a choice that no 17-year-old should have to make: whether or not I wanted to have children someday. I had barely recovered from surgery and had only a few hours before my first round of chemo. I hadn't thought that far ahead yet, but I realized how important it was to preserve the possibility of a family in the future. It was a strange thing to think about at 17, but it gave me something to hold onto. It gave me hope that there could still be a “someday.” When treatment ended, life didn’t just return to normal. I had survived, but I didn’t quite know what came next. I tried college, but it didn’t feel like the right fit. I needed space — to be outside, to feel free again. So, I moved to Vermont and then Colorado, playing in the snow and teaching kids how to snowboard, which I loved. Eventually I moved back to Massachusetts, and reconnected with Rachel. We had known each other from high school, but reconnecting as adults was different. We learned who we were now — not just who we had been. Rachel’s story picks up there. When Donald and I reconnected in 2021, we were both in new chapters. I had gone back to school while working full-time and graduated as valedictorian. Today, I’m a respiratory therapist at Mass General Hospital, and Donald works in an elementary school helping kids in crisis. We love to travel, try new foods, and spend time with our rescue dog, Lars. Before my graduation this spring, Donald proposed— both our families were there to celebrate! We’re planning our wedding for 2027, but before that, we’re focused on something even more important: starting a family. Because of Donald’s cancer treatment, that journey hasn’t been simple. But through every step, Lucy’s Love Bus has been there—just as they have been for Donald since he finished treatment fifteen years ago. For all those years, Love Bus has quietly covered the annual cost of storing Donald’s preserved fertility samples. It might sound like a small thing, but to us, it’s enormous. It meant his choice—his future—wasn’t taken away. And now that we’re beginning fertility treatments, Love Bus has continued to show up. When we ran into roadblocks, they helped us track down records, made phone calls, and guided us through the process. Every time we felt lost or stuck, someone from Love Bus reminded us that we weren’t alone. That’s what makes Lucy’s Love Bus so special. Their care doesn’t end when treatment ends. They’re there for the long haul—for survivors rebuilding their lives, and for families like ours who are trying to build new ones. Because of Love Bus, and because of donors like you, we have hope, options, and a promise that has always been kept. We have the chance to imagine the future we dreamed of years ago. As you consider your year-end giving, please know that your donation has a real, lasting impact. You’re not just helping kids get through cancer—you’re helping them live beyond it. You’re protecting futures, preserving choices, and giving families like ours the chance to grow. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for caring. Thank you for showing up. And thank you for helping Love Bus continue this work for the next family who needs them. With love and deep gratitude, Rachel & Donald
Rebecca just turned 22, but her poise, insight, and achievements suggest someone far older. With a career already spanning national healthcare innovation and a life story marked by resilience and clarity, she embodies the term “old soul”—not just in wisdom, but in all she’s managed to accomplish in such a short time. Raised in Massachusetts, Rebecca grew up with her parents, Tom and Stella, and her older sister Sarah, who has always been one of her closest companions and greatest sources of support. The sisters were tight-knit, even as Sarah’s softball schedule meant long weekend road trips. Rebecca, fiercely independent, would tag along with a chair, books, and friendship bracelets, setting up shop far from the sun and crowd to read alone in the shade. She was driven from the start—she made her own breakfast and got herself on the bus, and later, juggled sports like dance and softball while excelling academically. School was her happy place. “I was very into school, and I didn’t want cancer to take that away from me.” Her journey with cancer began quietly, and tragically, with a misdiagnosis. At ten years old, after a dance class stunt, she discovered a lump in her neck. Over two years and countless rounds of antibiotics, doctors continued to dismiss it as strep throat. But the tumor grew visibly, protruding from her neck, and she began to get sick more frequently. It wasn’t until a family vacation when she was 13 that things escalated. Vomiting and in pain, her mom insisted on seeing a specialist. That’s when they were finally referred to Boston Children’s Hospital, where a long-overdue surgery revealed a rare adult cancer in a child’s body: carcinoma of the salivary and parotid gland. “I had to be part of cancer before I even knew what cancer was,” Rebecca recalls. “It wasn’t just the diagnosis—it was years of being ignored, passed around, and told I was fine.” What followed was intense: major surgery, facial paralysis, and over 35 rounds of radiation at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. Every day for nearly seven weeks, Rebecca and her mom would leave school at 10 a.m., zip through Boston traffic, and head to the hospital basement for treatment. “I didn’t want to miss school,” she says. “I mapped it all out—if we left by 10:20, parked with our valet friend Thomas, and they got the coordinates [targeting the tumor with radiation] right, I could make it back by lunch.” To most of her peers, Rebecca was a healthy, happy kid. She didn’t talk about cancer. She didn’t want pity. But at home, her family was carrying a heavy emotional load. “As a kid, I didn’t see their pain. I thought they were okay. It wasn’t until years later that I learned how much they were holding in to stay strong for me.” Rebecca eventually went into remission—only to relapse just before her senior year. “I didn’t even tell my parents at first. I wasn’t afraid for me—I just didn’t want it to crush them.” Through it all, she stayed focused on her goals, facing all obstacles—cancer, a global pandemic, college admissions, tearing her ACL while skiing—with a rare kind of resilience. “It really stripped me of the idea that my worth was in what I could do physically. It taught me how to love people better. To be there for others.” That commitment to healing—mind, body, and spirit—is what led her to integrative therapies. “Radiation fatigue is real, and I needed relief,” she says. “We started with acupuncture. I began eating better. My whole family did. My dad was ozonating* grapes. We just wanted to do anything that might help.” But the traditional medical system often made things harder. “I remember one day we tried to go to the [in-hospital integrative therapies center] for acupuncture,” Rebecca says. “We were early, but because I was a kid with an adult cancer, they sent us away to get ‘escorted’ back by a [hospital] rep. By the time we came back, we were seven minutes late and they turned us away again.” That day, she and her mom broke down in the hospital hallway. That’s when Lucy’s Love Bus stepped in. Her child life specialist introduced her to the nonprofit, and for the first time in her medical journey, Rebecca felt seen—not as a diagnosis, but as a child who needed comfort. “There was no long intake process. No proving myself. Just love. Agape love—the kind that’s not transactional, but unconditional.” Lucy's Love Bus connected her with integrative therapies close to home: acupuncture for dry mouth and facial paralysis, support for stress and sleep, and, more than anything, relief. “It was like this: imagine your hand is in boiling water. And someone gives you permission to lift it out—for just an hour. You’re still burned. You’re still hurting. But you can finally breathe again.” Years later, she returned to Lucy’s Love Bus to co-lead a coding project for other kids with cancer. That moment came full circle this past spring when she was the keynote speaker at the Butterfly Benefit. Then last month, June 2025, Rebecca was unanimously voted onto Lucy’s Love Bus’ Board of Directors. Today, she’s the Chief Business Officer at G19 Studios, leading national healthcare initiatives in AI and data strategy. But her heart remains deeply rooted in her lived experience. “I wouldn’t be in this position in any way, shape, or form without going through the healthcare system as a patient. It’s been the throughline of my life—even when I didn’t want it to be.” Rebecca now uses her voice to advocate for children still in the thick of it—those who, like her, deserve more than just treatment. They deserve joy. Dignity. Hope. “Lucy’s Love Bus gave me the space to exhale,” she says. “They reminded me that healing isn’t just about killing the cancer—it’s about making life livable while you fight. And that can change everything.” Thank you for your generous gifts, which bring breath, hope, and healing to young people like Rebecca and their families!
Seven-year-old Walden is a spark of energy and charm: always ready with a question, a new idea, or an introduction: when he was in Montessori school, he was so friendly and familiar with everyone that other parents started calling him “the Mayor of Montessori.” He didn’t just know all the kids—he knew their parents, too. “He was the only reason I had a social life!” says his mom, Yori, laughing. “Walden would walk right up and say, ‘Mom, have you met so-and-so’s parents?’” He’s never met a stranger, and his extroverted, outgoing nature means he can find a friend anywhere, anytime. Five-year-old Jove is Walden’s quieter counterpart. More reserved and observant, Jove is happiest curled up with a puzzle, sipping hot cocoa, or keeping his mom company on calm days at the library. He loves to play independently, but when it comes to group settings, he often relies on Walden to break the ice. “He really wants his brother there as an intermediary,” Yori explains. “But he’s getting braver all the time.” Despite their differences, the boys are inseparable—“attached like glue,” says their mom. But everything changed just after Walden’s fifth birthday. One morning in early 2023, in their Amesbury home, Walden called out from the bathroom: “Mom, my pee is blood.” Yori expected a minor infection—but when she saw the toilet filled with blood, her heart sank. At Exeter Hospital’s ER, things escalated quickly. Walden’s blood pressure was dangerously high, and a scan revealed a massive tumor filling his abdomen. He was rushed to Boston Children’s Hospital and began chemotherapy that night, even before a definitive diagnosis. The cancer had already spread to his lungs, heart, and vascular system. Every minute mattered. Walden was diagnosed with Wilms tumor, a rare childhood kidney cancer. “He was standing on the bed, screaming in pain,” Yori recalled. “It was terrifying to watch.” The next few weeks were a blur of ICU stays, fevers, transfusions, medication, and the start of chemotherapy to shrink the tumor enough for surgery. Chemo worked to shrink it, and eventually, Walden underwent a major operation to remove his kidney and as much of the tumor as possible. Then came radiation— and daily anesthesia for two weeks. “He hated the propofol. He was scared - and then angry - every day. And I had to watch it happen for two weeks.” Still, Walden’s strength amazed his family. “He would walk into the ICU and hop on the bed like nothing was wrong,” Yori said. “He kept showing up, even when everything hurt.” Behind the scenes, life was unraveling. Yori had to shut down her home chiropractic practice and stop working entirely. The boys’ dad, Kevin, had to scale back hours and was eventually let go once Walden’s treatment ended. Yori and Kevin had already been considering separation; cancer sped up the inevitable. The stress of cancer, financial instability, and separation took its toll. Yori suspects Jove’s developmental delays—speech and fine motor—were overlooked longer than they should’ve been. “People were doing their best, but we were in survival mode,” she said. Only as Walden’s treatment eased could they begin addressing Jove’s needs. A fellow Montessori parent, Lucy’s Love Bus’ Director of Development, Stephanie Moran, reached out and introduced Yori to Lucy’s Love Bus. At first, Yori hesitated. “I kept thinking: there are families worse off than we are,” she said. “But everyone kept telling me—take the help. You don’t realize yet what’s coming.” After Walden’s treatment stabilized, the family joined group programs at the Sajni Center and attended a horseback riding day at Ironstone Farm. That moment changed everything for Jove. “We had tried so many things—art, dance, swim—he didn’t like any of it,” Yori said. “But he got on that horse, and it was like, ‘wow.’ He surprised all of us.” Thanks to Love Bus funding, Jove began regular therapeutic riding lessons. “In just twenty minutes, he made progress we hadn’t seen through any other methods we tried. It’s a special activity that’s all his own—not something he shares with Walden, and it’s never overwhelming. It’s truly helped his body, his confidence, and his spirit.” Meanwhile, Walden is now taking piano lessons through Love Bus, and the family continues to feel embraced by the organization. “There’s so much money raised for cancer research, and I’m grateful for that—but Lucy’s Love Bus is what makes a difference in your day. It’s the riding, the music, the swimming—experiences that bring our kids joy and give us moments of peace.” And for siblings like Jove—often overlooked in the chaos of treatment—it’s transformative. “When your other child finally finds something that’s just for them,” Yori said, “that’s the kind of impact you can feel in your bones.” Thank you for your generous gifts, which bring comfort, strength, and joy to children like Walden and Jove—and to parents like Yori and Kevin, who feel seen, supported, and never alone.
Meet Ruby and Max, your February Butterfly Buddies! Ruby, 11 and in the 5th grade, is a brilliant and creative soul with a love for painting, sculpting, and—most of all—dance! A fierce competitor on her dance team, she thrives in everything from jazz to hip-hop and would be in the studio every day if she could. Wise beyond her years, Ruby is also an outstanding student, earning straight A’s despite missing the first 22 days of school —just one example of her unstoppable spirit. Her brother Max, 8, may be younger but towers over her in height - the tallest in his second grade class! The ultimate friend to everyone he meets, Max is a funny, kindhearted protector who shares an unbreakable bond with his sister. A huge sports fan, basketball is his passion, and he can rattle off stats like a pro. Ruby and Max live with their parents, Nichole and Michael, and their energetic rescue dog, Zoey, in Essex County, MA. In 2017, life was moving fast for Nichole and Michael—Nichole had just started her dream job at a startup, their family had recently moved into a new home, and they were adjusting to life with a newborn. In the midst of it all, Ruby, at just three-and-a-half-years old, began experiencing persistent knee pain and unexplained fevers that would come and go. Though doctors initially suspected juvenile arthritis, Nichole couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. Her pediatrician trusted her instincts and urged her to keep pushing for answers. Then, one day, while out with her grandmother, Ruby was in such excruciating pain that she couldn’t get out of her car seat. Nichole rushed to her side, and by the next morning, she was demanding an ultrasound at the hospital—refusing to leave until they got one. When the results came back, their world shifted. Doctors found a tumor wrapped around Ruby’s celiac valve, and on June 27th, they delivered the heartbreaking diagnosis: Stage 4, high-risk neuroblastoma. Just days later, on July 3rd, Ruby’s treatment began, marking the start of a journey that would test their family in every way– but also reveal Ruby’s incredible strength. Ruby’s treatment can be described as nothing short of intense. She endured eight rounds of chemotherapy, followed by a stem cell transplant, and then underwent a grueling 20-hour surgery to remove her tumor. The complications afterward were severe—she spent 81 days in the hospital, and was in an induced coma for 11 days, even sleeping through her fourth birthday. During this time, her body had to relearn everything—how to talk, breathe, eat, and walk. She then underwent 22 rounds of proton radiation, requiring daily sedation due to the widespread nature of her cancer. Immunotherapy followed, taking a brutal toll on her body. It was during their long hospital stay at Tufts Children’s Hospital that they first encountered Lucy’s Love Bus, when the Love Bus Healing Room’s massage therapists visited to provide comfort and care—offering a rare moment of relief in an otherwise overwhelming journey. As Nichole vividly remembers, “the comfort of the massage would visibly calm Ruby, lowering her heart rate on the monitors. It was such a small, but meaningful, moment of peace in the middle of everything.” For a while after treatment, Ruby’s health remained stable, but complications from her excision eventually led to liver trouble. In August 2024, she underwent a liver transplant—another step in her eight-year journey. The surgery was expected to keep her in the hospital for up to six weeks, but Ruby amazed everyone by going home in just 11 days. Her resilience is undeniable, and despite the late effects of her illness—her petite frame, occasional fatigue—she refuses to let anything slow her down. She loves spending time with her best friends, going to sleepovers, making jewelry, and dancing at her studio, fully embracing the joy of just being a kid. Ruby knows when to push through and when to rest, listening to her body as she navigates life with the same strong spirit. "We live in a really great neighborhood," Nichole shared. "There are kids everywhere, but sometimes she’ll just say, ‘I’m good. I’ve had enough,’ and head home. And that’s fine—listening to her body is important." Meanwhile, her brother Max has carried the weight of her illness in his own way. The anxiety that once had him waking early to check if his parents were still there has softened, but his protective nature remains. "He just always needs to know Ruby’s okay," Nichole said. Lucy’s Love Bus has been a constant source of comfort for their family, offering experiences that help both Ruby and Max heal. In addition to massage therapy from Ginny, Deborah and Jillian, Ruby found joy in music therapy with April, and yoga and meditation with Ann– other members of the Love Bus Healing Room team at Tufts. "Ruby doesn’t remember the pain—she remembers April playing guitar when she didn’t feel good and Miss Ann’s Boston terriers, just like the one we had," Nichole recalled. Even now, Love Bus continues to be part of their lives, covering a portion of the lofty costs of Ruby’s dance classes and dance camps, giving her an outlet that she absolutely loves. Max, too, has found confidence through Love Bus, tackling horseback riding at Ironstone Farm and embracing football with his best friends. "We didn’t think Max would get on that horse," Nichole said. "But by the end, he was beaming—‘Mom, did you see this thing I did?!’ That was huge for him." For Nichole, these moments of joy are invaluable. "To have something that brings your child peace when nothing else does gives us as parents such peace of mind," she said. Lucy’s Love Bus has given them not just financial support, but experiences that shape who Ruby and Max are becoming. "When you’re terrified and everything is scary, having an organization and supporters there to bring your child joy and comfort, even for a moment, means everything." Thank you for your generous gifts, which bring joy and comfort to children like Ruby and Max, and their parents, Nichole and Michael!
Meet Catherine and Rachel, your January Butterfly Buddies! Catherine, nearly 17, is a junior in high school who is learning to drive and beginning to plan for college. While she hasn’t chosen a major yet, her passion for interior and fashion design has her dreaming of how she’ll decorate her future dorm room. Rachel, who just turned 13, approaches everything she does with boundless energy and resilience. The sisters are very close, connecting over their shared passions for art, cooking, and a love of learning, with Catherine often taking on the role of teacher and guide to her little sister. In the fall of 2021, Rachel began complaining of leg pain after a fall at recess, but an annual physical provided no answers as the pain came and went. In early 2022, Marcy noticed swelling and a bump on Rachel’s leg while walking her to school. An x-ray revealed something unusual, and Rachel was transferred immediately to Connecticut Children’s Hospital. Over the following days, a series of tests, scans, and a biopsy confirmed the devastating diagnosis: Ewing sarcoma, a rare bone cancer. Though the news was crushing, the oncologist reassured the family that the hospital had extensive experience treating this rare form of childhood cancer. But the tough news continued: the cancer had spread to Rachel’s lungs, drastically lowering her survival odds, and was present in her foot and other parts of her leg. Rachel’s treatment plan began immediately: amputation of Rachel’s leg, nine months of chemotherapy, and then proton radiation therapy. Despite the physical and emotional toll Rachel faced during her 11 months of treatment, she showed remarkable bravery. “She really shouldered this with so much courage,” Marcy said. “Even when she lost her leg, she never let it define her..” Although Rachel missed a full year of school during her treatments, her love of learning helped her pick up right where she left off. “She’s determined to keep doing the things she loves.” Marcy learned about Lucy’s Love Bus from another Love Bus mom while Rachel was in treatment. Thanks to donors like you, Love Bus has been able to provide moments of joy and comfort to their whole family. Catherine has benefitted from spa treatments and massage therapy—moments of pampering that allowed her to feel special and cared for amidst the family’s focus on Rachel. “Catherine loves to be pampered, and she really needed that after everything,” shared Marcy – who used her own funding through the Ilene’s Caregivers program for spa services and a respite getaway. Rachel has used her funding for art lessons that nurtured her creative side during her recovery– something that would have been out of the family’s budget without the funding from Lucy’s Love Bus. One of the most impactful gifts that Love Bus continues to provide Rachel is the gift of choice. Love Bus pays for the annual cost of storing Rachel’s preserved ovarian tissue—a critical step Marcy took to protect her daughter’s future fertility options before cancer treatment. For Marcy, the decision to put Rachel through an additional invasive procedure was daunting, but adding to the stress was the question, “How will we afford this? How will we keep the harvested tissue safe long-term?” She reflects, “What an incredible gift that is—for Love Bus to give Rachel the opportunity to have children someday. Despite everything she’s been through, she still has that choice.” Now a 7th grader, Rachel is thriving academically, performing as Mrs. Potts in Beauty and the Beast, and joining her local swim team, with hopes of mastering diving. Rachel’s resilience has not only propelled her forward but also inspired her sister, Catherine, who has learned to step back and allow Rachel to navigate challenges on her own. Catherine, meanwhile, has also excelled academically, earning induction into the honor society and beginning to dream about her own future. Marcy credits Lucy’s Love Bus with helping her family heal. “Lucy’s Love Bus gives kids a choice and a voice when so much of treatment feels out of their control. It lets them dream big and acknowledge their struggles, saying, ‘We see you, we care about you.’ That personal connection is everything.” Marcy and Bill’s faith and resilience have guided their family through Rachel’s diagnosis and treatment. Though life is beginning to settle into a new normal, the physical and emotional scars remain. With support, they’ve found moments of comfort and joy amid the struggle. “Lucy’s Love Bus has helped Rachel pursue her passions, made Catherine feel special, and given our family hope. And hope is the most powerful gift you can give." Thank you for your generous gifts which deliver hope and joy to deserving children like Catherine and Rachel, and their parents, Marcy and Bill!
Dear Love Bus Supporter, I'm Molly, mom to three wonderful boys: Charlie, Teddy, and Jackie. Our Connecticut home is filled with the love, laughter, and lively energy of three young boys and a new puppy! My husband Ryan and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Charlie, 11, is our thoughtful old soul who loves baseball and looks out for his brothers. Teddy, 9, has a sweet, funny nature and never skips a goodnight hug for everyone—even the dog! Three-year-old Jackie is our little spark, bringing endless joy to our family. But behind our warm and happy family lies a journey we never anticipated—a journey that began when Teddy was just two years old. During a seemingly ordinary summer evening, Teddy suddenly began screaming in pain of a headache, then vomited. Despite a normal pediatric checkup the next day, Teddy’s symptoms worsened. He could barely stand and his heart rate was dangerously low, prompting an urgent trip to the ER. An MRI quickly revealed that there was a large mass in Teddy’s brain, one that had been silently growing over the first two years of Teddy’s life. He was diagnosed with a pilomyxoid astrocytoma (PMA), a low-grade glioma. He was immediately admitted to the hospital and put on a steroid treatment. Just 36 hours after arriving at the hospital, my little two year old had to undergo emergency brain surgery. Although the craniotomy saved his life, it also caused irreversible damage. Over the next two months, Ryan, Teddy, and I lived in the hospital as Teddy’s condition was touch-and-go. Charlie stayed at home with my mom as we tried to give him some semblance of normalcy. While at the hospital, Teddy endured a nightmare of complications: strokes, seizures, multiple blood transfusions, and ultimately the loss of his sight. His endocrine system was permanently compromised, meaning he can no longer produce vital hormones on his own, like those responsible for regulating metabolism, growth, mood, blood pressure, heart rate, and blood sugar levels. Though it was partially removed, much of the tumor remains embedded, and Teddy will face lifelong challenges as a result. Since his diagnosis, Teddy has completed four chemotherapy protocols and undergone four surgeries; he has not gone a single year without treatment since he was two years old. Managing his healthcare is incredibly challenging because there are so many variables and unknowns. We're not just fighting the tumor—it's also the seizures, the visual impairment, and his endocrine issues. Every decision we make has to factor in how one treatment will affect everything else. It’s always two steps forward and one step back, but we stay hopeful, even when the setbacks keep coming. Our family’s life has been deeply impacted: I had to leave my job as an ER nurse, and Ryan tries to work from home as much as possible to help out around the house. Our family’s ability to take annual vacations, attend events like birthday parties, or even just spend time all together has been severely limited. As for Charlie and Jackie, they’ve had to adjust to a reality most children don’t face. Jackie, who is still so little, often asks me before bed, “Mommy, you’ll be here in the morning?” because too often he has woken up to find me or me and Ryan gone in the night for another ER visit. As for Charlie, who was only four when Teddy was diagnosed, he’s carried a significant emotional burden. Initially, he seemed to be coping well, but as he grew older and more aware of the severity of Teddy’s condition, it became harder for him– it breaks my heart to see how mature he has to be. Through Lucy’s Love Bus, and thanks to donors like you, we’ve found incredible support that extends to all our boys– individualized to help with each boy’s specific needs. Neurofeedback therapy helped Charlie manage his anxiety and fears during a particularly tough period. Having something that Charlie had just for himself, and giving him the time and space to talk about how he was feeling and empowering him with tools to manage those feelings– was so helpful. Today, Love Bus supports Charlie’s jiu-jitsu classes and Jackie’s swim lessons—activities that build their confidence and give them a space all their own to work through any challenges they face. For Teddy, Lucy’s Love Bus provides weekly craniosacral therapy (CST), which has been essential for his comfort. CST (pictured left) helps relieve tension and improve fluid flow around his brain—something that’s become even more critical since he had a shunt placed. This therapy isn’t covered by insurance, but it’s made a huge difference in Teddy’s quality of life. This journey has been incredibly hard, upending our lives and deeply affecting our whole family. Without Lucy’s Love Bus, these life-changing therapies that bring our boys relief—and give us as parents a sense of control amid the helplessness—would be beyond our reach. It’s not just about a cure; it’s about giving my family the chance to live right now. Thank you for helping to support families like mine, ensuring that we have moments of joy and comfort along the way - we are so grateful! With love and gratitude, Molly, mom to Charlie, Teddy, & Jackie
November is National Caregivers Month, a time to recognize the resilience and dedication of caregivers everywhere. For Josh and Clare, this month holds special meaning as they reflect on their journey as caregivers for their two daughters: Josephine, 10, and Tilly, nearly six.
Bryan, now 15 years old, is in 10th grade, and while he's always been a bit reserved and shy, he’s full of interests like drawing, trains, building with Legos, and recently, cooking. His younger sister, Katelynn, 13, is his opposite in many ways—outgoing, bubbly, and creative. She loves baking cakes and making clothes for her dolls, often shining in the spotlight. Bryan and Katelynn’s mom, Marta and dad, Jose, are a loving couple who always dreamed of starting a family young. After a difficult pregnancy and an early arrival, Bryan was born at just 32 weeks, weighing only three pounds and fifteen ounces. "He was so tiny, so fragile," Marta recalls. "It was hard to see him in the NICU with all those tubes, but we were just so grateful he was alive." Bryan came home after three weeks, and despite being born premature, he was a healthy, happy boy—until suddenly, he was not. In early 2022, Bryan fell on black ice and hurt his back while rushing to catch the bus. A bruise formed, but when Marta took him to the doctor, she was assured everything was fine. However, Bryan started experiencing more symptoms—nosebleeds, dry lips, fatigue, and increasing back pain. Despite these signs, doctors initially dismissed them as winter dryness and minor injuries. It wasn’t until a follow-up visit in March that Bryan’s pediatrician ran blood tests, leading to a devastating discovery: Bryan had leukemia. “When the doctor told me, my mind just went black. I don’t remember what happened after that,” Marta says. "I called my husband, and he rushed to the hospital. Our world just collapsed." Bryan was admitted to the hospital immediately for intensive treatment. The first 32 days were a blur of steroid treatment, chemotherapy, lumbar punctures, and medical procedures. "Every day felt like a countdown," Marta remembers. "28 days left, 27 days left." However, it wasn’t just Bryan who was affected by the cancer diagnosis. Katelynn was suddenly thrust into a world of fear and uncertainty, and without close family living nearby, Katelynn stayed with her parents most of the time, sleeping on the hospital floor and missing school to be with them as they faced this difficult journey together. The emotional toll was just as heavy for Marta and Jose, navigating the complexities of medical jargon in their second language, struggling to understand what was happening to their son. Even with translators, the stress and confusion were overwhelming. "There were times when I didn’t understand what the doctors were saying, and I just had to trust them. But it’s so hard when it’s your child, and you feel so powerless," Marta shared. As the months passed, Bryan’s body endured the harsh side effects of treatment. The steroids caused severe bone loss, leading to compression fractures in his spine. Even after being declared cancer-free in October 2022, Bryan had to finish the chemotherapy protocol to lessen the likelihood of relapse. His body, already fragile from months of treatment, struggled. "It felt like we were always in and out of the hospital. One day at home, two days in the hospital, then back again," Marta explains. "It’s exhausting—physically, mentally, emotionally—for the whole family." The hardest part of Bryan's cancer journey came in the spring of 2023: Bryan was hospitalized again after developing clots in his lungs, pancreatitis, and heart dysfunction due to complications with his catheter. Just one day after being discharged from that hospital stay, he suddenly collapsed and stopped breathing. Jose and Marta feared the worst, but paramedics were able to revive him. Back at the hospital, he experienced a severe seizure, and doctors feared he would have a heart attack. After another seizure, Bryan’s heart rate spiked dangerously, and he was intubated. His condition deteriorated so much that his parents again thought they were losing him. Doctors discovered Bryan had developed neurotoxicity from the chemotherapy treatment, and his body struggled to clear the toxins. Bryan’s health waned in the ICU - he was reliant on oxygen and intubated for over a week, developed a severe lung infection and 106-degree fever… then miraculously, his lungs cleared and his body began to rid itself of the toxins, and his health slowly improved. Bryan completed treatment in June 2023, with the worst behind him. Through all of this, Lucy’s Love Bus has been a vital source of support for Marta, Jose, Bryan, and Katelynn. Thanks to donors like you, Bryan and Katelynn are able to participate in music lessons, offering them moments of joy amidst the chaos. "The music therapy makes a world of difference for Bryan and Katelynn," Marta says. "They’re able to channel their energy into something positive, and it gives them a sense of control when everything else feels uncertain." For Marta and Jose, the Group Programs provided by Lucy’s Love Bus have been equally crucial. With so much of their time and energy devoted to Bryan’s medical care, these moments of togetherness with their family, and with parents who have gone through similar journeys, provide relief, and allow them to recharge and care for their mental and emotional health. "We feel less alone knowing that Lucy’s Love Bus is there for us," Marta says. "They’ve helped us stay strong as a family." The support from Lucy’s Love Bus has given the family hope and strength to face the challenges ahead. "Cancer doesn't care whether you can work or not—the bills keep coming, and insurance doesn't cover everything. The financial burden after cancer is huge, and it's hard in every way, not just economically. Lucy's Love Bus has helped us stop thinking about hospitals and sickness, giving us something else to focus on. It’s been amazing, supporting us through tough times and being there for our kids when they needed it most. Knowing that we have people like those at Lucy’s Love Bus behind us, it makes the impossible seem a little more possible," Marta reflects. As for Bryan, he remains the quiet, resilient boy he’s always been. He still loves trains and building with Legos, but now his bravery has become a defining part of who he is. "Bryan never complains," Marta says, her voice filled with emotion. "He just keeps going. And if he can keep going, so can we." Thank you for your generous gifts which deliver joy and comfort to deserving children like Bryan and Katelynn, and their parents, Marta and Jose!
William and Aiden have distinct personalities, but their brotherly love is undeniable. William, at 13 years old, is an 8th grader with a gentle and introspective nature. He’s bright, kind, and deeply involved in the arts, playing the viola and participating in his school’s theater program. Aiden, who is 15 and a freshman in high school, is a natural leader and extremely extroverted. He’s a standout athlete in both lacrosse and football. While he and William may not always share the same interests, his mom, Amanda, and dad, Ryan have made sure that their bond remains strong, especially as they navigate one medical challenge after another. William’s health journey began before he was even born. At Amanda’s 20-week pregnancy scan, they discovered that William had a severe cleft lip and palate—a condition that would require multiple surgeries and ongoing care. “We had no idea what was ahead of us,” Amanda recalls. “It’s often dismissed as a cosmetic issue, but it’s so much more than that. It’s structural—it affects how he eats, how he speaks. The first decade of his life was filled with surgeries, constant visits to Boston Children’s, and therapies.” Despite the difficulties, William thrived. He became known for his resilience and strength, even as he navigated a medical journey that many adults couldn’t imagine. But just as they thought they were nearing the end of one road, another challenge hit. About 3.5 years ago, when William had just turned 10, his medical team became concerned about recurring lumps of scar tissue that would appear after his surgeries. The team tried massage and cortisone treatments, but the lumps persisted. Eventually, the tissue was excised, still believed to be scar tissue or a cyst. After a biopsy returned inconsistent results, the doctor sent the sample to several pathologists, taking advantage of the many experts here in Boston. While William and Aiden were at camp, Amanda and Ryan received the devastating news: it wasn't a cyst or scar tissue, but a rare trauma-induced desmoid tumor. Though desmoid tumors can sometimes be dormant, William’s was aggressive, likely triggered by his earlier cleft surgeries. Desmoid tumors are incredibly unpredictable, painful, and difficult to treat, especially in William’s case, as his tumor was located on his face, near his cheek and lip. Surgery wasn’t an option, as any attempt to remove the tumor could cause it to grow even more aggressively. “It was a shock,” Amanda says. “We were just coming to terms with the fact that he had made it through the cleft surgeries, and then this. How do you explain to a 10 year old child that they’re facing something even bigger than what they’ve already overcome?” For the past three years, William has been on chemotherapy, starting with Sorafenib, which ultimately failed to stop the tumor’s growth. Now, he is on a trial drug called nirogacestat, which has been successful in halting the tumor’s progression and managing his pain. “Before, he couldn’t even brush his teeth without excruciating pain,” Amanda explains. “Now, he’s more comfortable, but there are still side effects, and the long-term impact is uncertain. We live day-to-day.” Throughout this journey, the entire family has been impacted, especially Aiden, who has taken on the emotional weight of his younger brother’s illness. “Anyone with a sick child will attest to this - it takes its toll on the siblings,” Amanda says. “The sibling is often jealous of the attention even though they know it’s not attention they want, it’s not anything they’d wish upon anyone, but it’s hard for their brain to process. And the sick child is envious too—why them and not their sibling? That’s why Ryan and I feel that giving them opportunities to stay connected is so important.” The brothers, though different in many ways, have found common ground in a shared activity. With support from donors like you, Lucy’s Love Bus is able to fund personal training sessions for Aiden and William to do together. They’ve been able to bond in ways they hadn’t before, and the sessions have become a powerful way for the boys to connect. “It’s been a game changer for them,” Amanda says. “They work out together, push each other, have fun together, and come out of it feeling energized. It’s been good for William physically, but it’s been amazing for Aiden too. He’s had to take on so much as the older brother, and this gives them both an outlet.” As they continue on their journey, Amanda remains hopeful, but also realistic about the challenges ahead. “We’re about to enter some hard years, and maintaining that connection between the boys is a big focus for us.” But for now, moments like their time spent together at the gym through Lucy’s Love Bus are invaluable. “Any opportunity for parents to see their kids happy and engaged, and not thinking about their burdens, even for a little while, is amazing,” Amanda says. “And that’s exactly what Lucy’s Love Bus gives us.” Amanda’s final thought is a reminder of the importance of programs like Lucy’s Love Bus for families facing childhood cancer. “These extra things—the activities and integrative therapies - these are the outlets, the moments of joy. They’re not just nice to have, they’re essential. They’re what help us heal, mentally and emotionally. We are so appreciative of Lucy’s Love Bus for allowing us these outlets, and all of the supporters who make it possible. It’s a gift beyond words.”
Elyahs had always been a fighter, even before he knew what it meant. Born in March of 2019, Elyahs was a happy baby who radiated warmth and curiosity. But for his mother, Nytasha, life took an unexpected turn when Elyahs was just an infant. At a routine checkup, the pediatrician noticed something unusual—Elyahs’ hands were pale, almost paper-white. As a first-time mom, Nytasha had assumed all newborns were a bit pale, but the pediatrician was concerned. A quick blood test revealed shocking news: Elyahs had a white blood cell count of over 400,000– much higher than the normal range. Before Nytasha even made it home, the doctor called her back to the hospital. "I was like, 'This is not happening,'" Nytasha recalls. "I didn’t react right away because I was in disbelief. He was this tiny baby, and they were ripping his clothes off and hooking him up to machines." It was in that frantic, overwhelming moment that Nytasha first heard the word that would change their lives forever—chemotherapy. After prodding the nurse who uttered the word, Nytasha found out that Elyahs had been diagnosed with a rare subtype of Leukemia; he was just 8 weeks old. The next year and a half became a blur of hospital rooms, treatments, and prayers. "We lived there. I did laundry there. The medical staff became my family. That was our home for the first year and a half of Elyahs’ life," Nytasha explains. Because of his diagnosis and very young age, Elyahs' treatments were experimental; trials that carried no guarantees. Amid the chaos and fear, Nytasha became a rock, holding both herself and Elyahs steady through the storm. "The moment you hear the word 'cancer,' your mind spirals into panic, imagining the worst," she recalls. "But I knew I couldn’t afford to feed that fear. I had to stay positive, because my son needed that strength. Children absorb the energy around them—if you’re drowning in sadness, they feel it, and it only drags them down. I refused to let that happen to Elyahs." Despite the emotional toll, Nytasha kept her spirits high, focusing on Elyahs, who despite his small size, fought through each treatment with a resilience that amazed everyone. The treatments were grueling. Elyahs underwent a bone marrow transplant in December 2019, which had to be split over two days due to his tiny frame. But even after what seemed like a successful procedure, the cancer returned. "I was devastated, but I thought, ‘we got rid of it once, we can do it again,’" Nytasha says. They turned to CAR T-cell therapy, an experimental treatment that reengineered Elyahs’ own cells to fight the cancer. It was a long shot, but it worked. "I could cry right now just thinking about it," Nytasha says, her voice full of emotion as she remembers the results. "My baby’s OK! It worked!" Since August 4, 2020, Elyahs has been cancer-free. Elyahs, now five and starting kindergarten at the METCO school, is thriving. "He’s very smart," Nytasha beams. He loves learning his letters, doing math, swimming, and dance. Thanks to Lucy’s Love Bus, he’s been able to take swimming lessons and he’s recently begun dance classes, activities that not only help him build his social skills but also bring joy back into his life– and his mom’s, too. Looking back, Nytasha is in awe of how far Elyahs has come. From the little boy who skipped crawling and went straight to walking, to the vibrant, intelligent kindergartener he is today, Elyahs's journey has been nothing short of miraculous. "He’s been very lucky—and here we are," Nytasha says, reflecting on their ordeal. "I couldn’t be more proud of him." Nytasha is deeply grateful for the support Elyahs receives from donors like you. "As a single mom doing everything on my own, I wouldn’t have the means to provide my son with the activities he needs to build his social skills—the experiences every child deserves– without Lucy’s Love Bus. You have no idea how much this support means to us!" Thank you for being a champion for children with cancer and their family members this September, and every day of the year. Gifts from community members like you deliver comfort and quality of life to deserving children like Elyahs and deliver much-needed support for parents like Nytasha.
Meet Camryn (“Cam”) and Brinley (“Brin”), your August Butterfly Buddies! Cam and Brin are sisters who both recently celebrated birthdays in May - Cam turned 7 and Brin turned 10 years old. On most days they would tell you that they’re each other's best friends. They live in Connecticut with their mom, Courtney, who is a 5th grade math teacher in their town, and their dad, Don, a contractor, and the self-appointed “softy” of the two parents. Brin is an amazing big sister, a caring friend, and loves to be on-the-go at all times. She’s academically gifted, and school is her happy place. Cam also enjoys school, but less for the learning and more the socializing, as the sassy “it girl” amongst her friends. She’s very artistic and loves to draw - her sketchpad is her happy place. And, as Courtney and Don have learned, both of their girls are super resilient. In April 2023, after experiencing some flu-like symptoms, Cam fell asleep on a playdate– very unusual behavior for the active 5-year-old. Courtney also noticed that Cam’s complexion looked a bit yellow, so she got her into an appointment with their pediatrician. The next morning, Courtney received a call from the doctor: Cam’s blood work had come back abnormal, and she had to get Cam to the hospital for a blood transfusion right away. Within the first 24 hours in the hospital, Cam received five units of blood and the medical team ran tests on multiple blood samples, but everything was coming back negative as they searched for a diagnosis. Courtney and Cam would spend the next eight days - the longest time they had ever spent away from Brin and Don - in the hospital while the doctors worked to find a diagnosis. On the eighth day, a bone marrow biopsy would confirm the family’s worst fear: Camryn had leukemia. After diagnosis on April 28, 2023, Courtney took a leave of absence from her job to be Cam’s full-time caregiver. She and Cam were together nonstop for the first four months of treatment, until they could both go back to school intermittently that following September. “It’s a long road. It’s very busy at the beginning and less busy as you go along, but it has a lot of bumps in between that you don’t plan for - unscheduled visits and appointments and trips to the ER,” explains Courtney, adding, “all of those things I was lucky enough not to worry about with healthy kids - such as where’s the nearest hospital to you everywhere you go - had to become a new part of our lives.” Cam will be on chemotherapy until July of 2025; she is responding well to treatment, but is still facing side effects, like an increased appetite, joint pain, and mood swings that are unavoidable with the steroid treatments she is also undergoing. Courtney recalls finding a piece of paper on which Cam had written, “My meds are making me mad.” Brin hasn’t come out of the experience unscathed either. She’s had to miss out on group activities and birthday parties to make sure that she doesn’t bring germs home to her sister, and on some days she finds it hard to contend with all the extra attention that Cam is receiving. “It has definitely tested our parenting skills, having one child who is sick and needs our attention often, and having one child who still needs our attention, but for different reasons,” Courtney tells us. Courtney and Don have found ways to give both girls the time and space to express their feelings, embracing all the support around them - from traditional counseling and time with their grammy, to animal and art therapy - to ensure that the girls always have someone to talk to, even if it’s not Courtney and Don. “I’ve always been a firm believer that everyone can benefit from therapy; it’s just about finding the right match, whatever that type of therapy looks like for each individual,” Courtney explained, adding, “this is why we were so excited to find Lucy’s Love Bus. It allowed both of my girls to find the individual outlets they needed during this time.” Thanks to donors like you, Lucy’s Love Bus is able to fund gymnastics for Brinley and private art classes for Camryn. For Brin, gymnastics provides her with a sense of accomplishment that group sports just weren’t able to give her. As an individualized activity, where your progress is based on your own hard work and effort, she has the opportunity to shine on her own merits, giving Brin an unparalleled sense of confidence. After diagnosis, Cam was thrilled to be able to stay in the familiar art center that she had been going to before she was sick, with private art lessons so that she wouldn’t be unnecessarily exposed to germs during her most immunocompromised times. Cam uses her art as an outlet to express the things that she can’t or won’t talk about otherwise. “Our dog, Brooklyn, passed away last July, and since Cam was home with him everyday, they had formed an even closer bond than most children have with their family dog. To this day, she makes art with his name on it or makes art pieces of a dog. She hasn’t talked to me, Don, or her therapist about his passing, but it comes out in her art. We’re so thankful she has this outlet,” Courtney tells us.
Cameron, affectionately known as Cam, is a whip-smart, 8-year-old boy who will be turning nine in August. He’s a history buff who loves to learn, and he can recite all of the U.S. presidents in order in under two minutes! He lives in Connecticut with his mom, Jessica, dad, Brendan, and his younger brother, Evan, who will be turning two in October. On an ordinary day in October 2017, when Cam was a healthy, active, toddler– just two years old himself– he attended a library program with Brendan. Cam, who loved dancing around, suddenly couldn't get back up after sitting down; Jessica immediately knew something was wrong and made an appointment with their pediatrician. Despite initial reassurances from doctors, Jessica pushed to have blood work done to be sure that Cam was OK. Jessica's intuition proved correct when she received a call in the middle of night to let her know that Cam's blood tests had revealed alarmingly low counts. She recalls her fear on that night: “He could have had internal bleeding or a stroke in his crib because his platelets were so low, and his hemoglobin was dangerously low.” The following days were a whirlwind of tests and transfusions. The doctors suspected leukemia but couldn’t confirm it right away; it wasn’t until Halloween, nearly three days later– also Jessica’s birthday– that their suspicions of a leukemia diagnosis were officially confirmed. Cam was categorized as average risk because the leukemia had not yet spread to his blood, allowing for early and aggressive treatment. He was hospitalized for two weeks, receiving powerful chemotherapy that required constant medical supervision. The initial phase of treatment was grueling and painful. “He couldn’t walk and he stopped speaking during this time, he was so overwhelmed,” Jessica remembers. The next few years were a blur of trips to the ER, aggressive chemotherapy, and constant vigilance. Cam endured unimaginable pain, and Brendan stayed home full-time to care for him; Jessica continued working to support the family financially. Their lives revolved around Cam's blood tests, treatments, and the ever-present fear of infection. "We lived blood test to blood test," Jessica recalls. The isolation was intense, not only for Cam but for the entire family. They had to cancel plans frequently and avoided social interactions to protect Cam’s fragile immune system. Holidays were tense, as they were spent with extreme caution to avoid hospital visits. The financial strain was significant, with Brendan out of work for several years, adding to the emotional toll. As Cam's treatment progressed, the family faced new challenges. The late effects of the treatment began to surface—post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety, fatigue, joint pain, and bone damage. These issues made everyday activities daunting for Cam. He struggled with peers, often feeling more comfortable around adults, and his anxiety manifested in frequent questions about his health. "He doesn't understand that not every little thing is out there to hurt him," Brendan explains, highlighting the confusion and fear that linger from years of medical trauma. Upon returning to school, Cam had difficulty understanding his peer’s social cues and couldn’t keep up with them physically, making gym class and recess his least favorite times of the day. Initially, Cam’s physical therapy was covered by insurance, but when coverage ended, Lucy’s Love Bus stepped in. Cam began taking dance classes thanks to funding from donors like you! His oncologist has endorsed the dance classes as being as beneficial as the physical therapy, if not more so for the social interaction he gets with his peers. Jessica emphasizes, “Cam is so happy when he gets back in the car from dance class - he would not be adjusting as well as he is right now if he didn’t have the services that Love Bus provides,” adding, “we’re still working on catching up financially after years of only one of us being able to work; we would not be able to put him into a single extracurricular activity without help from Lucy’s Love Bus.” Thanks to donors like you, Lucy’s Love Bus funded both art and dance classes for Cam, which have been invaluable in helping him feel like a regular kid again: letting him engage in activities that bring him joy, giving him more peer-to-peer interactions, and bringing a sense of normalcy into his childhood. The journey through Cam's leukemia treatment has been arduous, and the financial and emotional strains on the family have been immense. Post-treatment life is filled with challenges that are often overlooked, but the continued support from organizations like Lucy's Love Bus makes a significant difference. Jessica expresses deep gratitude for the importance and impact of these resources, highlighting how crucial they are for both the children who have endured cancer and their families, who continue to face long-term effects. “I don’t think people put as much importance on the late-effects of cancer, and what families go through after treatment. The effects for him are long term, and the effects for us are long term,” Jessica tells us, adding, “This is why I wholeheartedly believe that resources after treatment are just as important as resources during treatment. What Lucy’s Love Bus does is so important, I’m so grateful for the organization and all of its supporters.”
Finn and Mack are seven-year-old twins in the second grade. Finn is a “pocket of joy” who loves everyone he meets, according to his mom and dad, Shannon and Tim. Mack is the adventurer, who believes the faster, the better! Both boys love riding their 4-wheelers, fishing, and spending time with their friends and family. Watching them run, play, and climb, you probably wouldn’t guess that they spent the first five months of their lives in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), born at just 24 weeks old, and 1lb 1oz each. As NICU babies, the boys received regular medical testing to ensure that their growth and development were progressing. One test that they received was a retinopathy exam, where the eye doctor checks to ensure that the blood vessels in the eyes are developing the right way. It was during one of these routine eye exams that the doctor found tumors in Finn’s eye, and informed Shannon and Tim that their baby had retinoblastoma, a rare type of eye cancer that develops in early childhood. “When somebody tells you that your child has cancer, your whole world changes that instant. Your security in the world is gone. The hope that you had disappears,” Shannon shares of that moment. Finn quickly underwent laser treatments and cryosurgery, but the tumors continued to grow. The next step was chemotherapy. At less than 40 weeks old, and not even up to 5lbs yet, Finn had surgery and began chemo treatment; after one and a half years of treatment, the tumors stopped growing. Sadly, Finn relapsed 8 months later, and tumors began growing in his other eye. He finished chemotherapy around the boys’ third birthday, and is now in remission. However, the late effects of cancer and treatment, especially on such a small body, have had lasting impacts for Finn and his family. “The side effects that children get from cancer and its treatment are brutal and mean,” said Shannon, referring to a long list of Finn’s late effects, which include: the loss of the majority of his vision; hearing loss; neuropathy of the feet (weakness, numbness, and pain); weakness throughout the right-side of his body; epilepsy; Raynaud’s syndrome (fingers and toes feel numb and cold in response to cold temperatures or stress); and serious cognitive and developmental delays. After Finn’s diagnosis, Shannon and Tim had to sell their home in central Massachusetts in order to be closer to Finn’s medical team. They moved into the one-bedroom in-law suite at Shannon’s mother’s house, closer to their Boston hospital, and have called it home since. Shannon has been living in fight or flight mode - making sure Finn is fighting for his life and that she’s fighting anything or anyone who stands in their way. Tim works full-time at USPS to ensure that the family has the medical insurance and funding that they need. And Mack, who has tagged along at most of Finn’s medical appointments since day one, going through it all right by Finn’s side, is “the best brother.” Throughout the years, he has stepped up as Finn’s protector, teacher, and confidant, always there to help Finn when he needs it. While Shannon sees the positives in Mack having a brother with complex medical needs - he has so much empathy and compassion - there are also challenges. Mack has very high anxiety, and it worsens if Finn and his parents ever have to be away for overnight hospital stays; Mack texts and checks-in constantly - “Is Finn OK? Are you OK? When can I come and visit?” While Shannon and her family continue to advocate for Finn’s quality of life every day, they no longer have to do it alone. Shannon remembers fondly the day that her contact at Camp Casco texted her information about Lucy’s Love Bus. Soon after, Shannon joined the Ilene’s Caregivers Support Group where she “found her people.” Through the program, the family also enjoyed a respite weekend getaway, which Shannon described as an escape from reality, where the family could have fun and just be, without thinking about doctors or hospitals. Shannon was also able to find an activity that would benefit both Finn and Mack - weekly sessions at Kidstrong, which is funded by Lucy’s Love Bus, thanks to donors like YOU! KidStrong incorporates movement and fun into a learning process that focuses on character, physical, and brain development through weekly 45-minute, age-based classes. While both boys enjoy the physical fitness and social parts of the classes, the classes have also helped Mack with his anxiety and Finn with his confidence! While having a child with cancer can bring with it dark days, Shannon wants the Love Bus community to know that Lucy’s Love Bus helps to shine a light on her family during these times, telling us, “it’s such a unique organization in that it treats the whole family. It brings families together to make memories, enjoy special experiences, and to create joy among all of us.” Thank you to Love Bus donors and supporters for helping to deliver comfort and quality of life to deserving children like Finn and Mack, and their parents, Shannon and Tim!
The girl’s name Sajni is pronounced as Saj - Nee. The name's meaning is one Who is dearly loved, beloved.
