LDS. What Seemed Like a Minor Swelling Became a Devastating Stage 4 Cancer Diagnosis for a Toddler
Emily Kate McKinney entered the world quietly, like so many children whose destinies would later prove anything but ordinary.
She was small, bright-eyed, and curious, a toddler discovering life one step at a time.
To her parents, Stephanie and Chris, she was simply their daughter, their miracle, their everything.
They called her Emily Kate, or “EK,” a nickname that carried affection, warmth, and the promise of a long, joyful childhood.
For the first sixteen months of her life, nothing seemed unusual.
She laughed easily, played without fear, and explored the world with the trust only a child can possess.
Her days were filled with toys scattered across the floor, bedtime stories read in soft voices, and arms always ready to catch her if she stumbled.
No one could have imagined how quickly that ordinary happiness would be interrupted.
In early December of 2021, Stephanie noticed something small but unsettling.
A lymph node on Emily’s neck appeared swollen.
At first, it didn’t seem urgent.
Children get swollen lymph nodes all the time, especially after colds or minor infections.
Stephanie and Chris told themselves it was nothing serious.
Still, something about it lingered in Stephanie’s mind.
Motherhood sharpens intuition in ways that cannot always be explained.
They took Emily to the doctor.
Then to another doctor.
And then another.
Each visit came with reassurances mixed with uncertainty.
Tests were ordered.
Follow-ups were scheduled.
Time stretched in uncomfortable ways, filled with waiting and unanswered questions.
Eventually, the doctors recommended a biopsy.
It was meant to be a routine procedure, something quick and manageable.
Stephanie and Chris kissed Emily’s forehead as she was taken away, trusting that modern medicine would offer clarity and relief.
Halfway through the procedure, everything changed.
The surgeon stopped.
What had been expected to be a simple biopsy suddenly became something far more serious.
A mass was discovered.
It was wrapped around Emily’s carotid artery.
The words themselves sounded unreal, as if they belonged to another family, another story.
The surgeon could not proceed safely.
Only a few lymph nodes were removed and sent for testing.
Stephanie and Chris waited.
Three days later, the phone call came.
The words were spoken calmly, professionally, and with devastating finality.
“Emily has cancer.”
In that moment, their world fractured.
The future they had imagined disappeared, replaced by fear, confusion, and disbelief.
Cancer was not supposed to belong in the life of a sixteen-month-old child.
It was not supposed to belong to Emily.
On December 13th, 2021, Emily Kate was officially diagnosed with Stage 4 neuroblastoma.
The diagnosis felt impossible to comprehend.
Stage 4.
Advanced.
Aggressive.
Words that carried weight far beyond their syllables.
Stephanie and Chris found themselves learning a new language overnight.
Medical terminology replaced bedtime routines.
Hospital corridors replaced playgrounds.
Soon after, Emily was admitted to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta.
There, weeks were spent undergoing scan after scan.
MRIs.
CT scans.
Bone marrow biopsies.
Each test revealed more of the truth they were desperately trying to outrun.
The cancer had spread.
It was in her lymph nodes.
It was in her bone marrow.
The disease was not localized or contained.
It was systemic.
Genetic testing followed.
Doctors explained the results carefully.
There was no MYCN amplification, a small mercy in an otherwise overwhelming diagnosis.
But there was a 1P gene deletion.
This meant higher risk.
Higher chance of relapse.
Greater treatment challenges ahead.
Stephanie and Chris listened, nodded, and asked questions, even when their hearts felt too heavy to beat properly.
They learned that neuroblastoma does not fight fair.
They learned that survival would require endurance, faith, and more courage than they knew they possessed.
Chemotherapy began the week of New Year’s.
While other families celebrated fresh beginnings, Emily began a battle for her life.
Her tiny body was introduced to powerful drugs designed to destroy cancer cells but harsh enough to test even adults.
The first cycle came.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
With each round, Emily endured nausea, fatigue, and discomfort she could not understand or explain.
Her parents watched helplessly as her body changed.
Her appetite faded.
Her energy wavered.
Her hair began to thin.
Yet something remarkable remained unchanged.
Emily kept playing.
She kept smiling.
She kept finding joy in moments that would have broken others.
After four cycles of chemotherapy, scans were repeated.
The results brought cautious hope.
The tumor had shrunk by twenty-three percent.
Her bone marrow was clear.
For a brief moment, relief entered the room.
But hope came with conditions.
The response, while positive, was not enough.
Doctors recommended escalating treatment.
Stronger chemotherapy.
More aggressive protocols.
Four more cycles.
Stephanie and Chris agreed, knowing the risks but refusing to surrender ground.
Each new round came with heightened side effects.
Greater nausea.
Greater risk of infection.
Greater emotional strain.
Hospital stays became routine.
IV poles became familiar companions.
Emily’s world shrank to rooms filled with machines and masked faces.
Still, she adapted.
She laughed at bubbles.
She waved at nurses.
She danced in place when music played softly in her hospital room.
Her resilience astonished everyone who met her.
After eight cycles of chemotherapy, another MRI was performed.
The results were disappointing.
Only three percent additional tumor shrinkage.
Three percent.
After months of poison, pain, and perseverance, the cancer remained stubborn.
The plan changed again.
A new chemotherapy regimen was introduced.
Cycle nine began.
Two weeks later, the McKinney family traveled to Chicago.
They attended the Children’s Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation conference.
There, they met other families walking the same road.
They met survivors.
They met parents who had lost children.
They met leading experts in neuroblastoma research and treatment.
For the first time, Stephanie and Chris felt less alone.
The conversations sparked new possibilities.
New questions.
New hope.
Encouraged by what they learned, they sought a second opinion at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York City.
Emily underwent a PET scan.
The results were reviewed by some of the world’s top specialists.
After careful consideration, surgery was recommended.
On September 12th, 2022, Emily was wheeled into the operating room.
The surgery would last six hours.
Six hours that felt like a lifetime.
Stephanie and Chris waited, holding hands, praying silently, imagining every possible outcome.
The surgeon emerged with a smile.
The entire tumor had been removed.
There were no complications.
Against all odds, the surgery was a success.
The next day, Emily was running through the hospital halls.
Barely slowed by what her body had endured, she laughed and played as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
After thirteen days in New York City, the family returned home.
Emily was tumor-free.
However, microscopic cancer cells remained in her lymph nodes.
The journey was not over.
She entered a strict monitoring phase.
Scan after scan.
Appointment after appointment.
Months passed.
Then a year.
Every result brought cautious optimism.
Every scan came with fear.
On November 14th, 2024, the words they had dreamed of hearing were finally spoken.
Emily Kate was officially declared cancer free.
The weight that lifted in that moment cannot be measured.
Today, Emily has been cancer free for over a year.
She is no longer defined by hospital rooms or chemotherapy schedules.
She is a child again.
She is a cheerleader in training.
She started kindergarten in August, carrying a backpack almost as big as she is.
She runs.
She laughs.
She dreams.
Her scars tell a story of survival, strength, and extraordinary courage.
Stephanie and Chris watch her with gratitude too deep for words.
They are proud beyond measure.
Emily Kate’s story is not just one of survival.
It is a testament to resilience.
To love.
To the power of hope when everything seems lost.
And above all, it is proof that even the smallest warriors can fight the biggest battles.
