In just a few hours, Santa Claus will step quietly into a hospital room at Texas Children’s Hospital.
There will be lights, a red suit, maybe a soft laugh — and a little girl named Kaylee will try her best to smile through a kind of pain no child should ever have to know.
Kaylee is fighting high-risk neuroblastoma, and this Christmas season has been especially cruel. Her most recent scans brought devastating news: the cancer has grown. New spots have appeared. The pressure on her spine has taken away all feeling below her chest.
Her world has changed in ways no child can understand.
Doctors told her family in Baytown, Texas that there is only a 5% chance radiation could reverse the damage. Five percent. But when it’s your child, you don’t measure hope in numbers. You hold onto every possibility — no matter how small — because letting go is not an option.
Kaylee has already endured four rounds of radiation. Today, she faces a fifth — likely her last.
Behind closed doors, doctors have gently spoken the words no parent is ever prepared to hear: Kaylee may make it through the holidays, but she likely won’t have much time beyond them.
And still — her family prays.
Still — they hope.
Still — they dream of waking up to a miracle where Kaylee is cancer-free, pain-free, and back to being the spunky, independent little girl she has always been. The girl who laughed loudly, did things on her own terms, and filled every room with life.
This Christmas, their wish isn’t wrapped in paper or tied with a bow. It is fragile. It is desperate. And it is filled with love.
If you believe in miracles, please share your most powerful words.
Send hope. Send prayers. Send love.
