Some updates break the heart before the first sentence is even written. Today is one of those updates — the kind no parent ever wants to share, the kind no child should ever have to live through. And yet, for brave young Cylus, this is the reality he faces with a strength far beyond his years.
What began as ordinary childhood discomfort — headaches, then a troubling pain behind the eye — took a devastating turn. Within days, the entire left side of his face stopped moving. To watch a child’s smile fade into paralysis is a nightmare no parent can prepare for.
Doctors moved quickly. Scans. Tests. More questions than answers. And then, the discovery that shifted everyone’s world: a new mass at the base of Cylus’ skull, growing in a place where nothing should ever grow, pressing mercilessly against his facial nerve.
It was not just another complication.
It was another battle in a war his small body has already been fighting far too long.
Cylus has faced spreading cancer. He has endured fractures that no child should suffer. He has survived infections, treatments, and pain that could break the strongest of adults. Yet through every devastating twist in his journey, one thing remains constant:
He refuses to give up.
His courage is not loud. It is quiet, steady, and deeply human. It shows in the way he still tries to smile. In the way he reaches for comfort. In the way he looks at the people who love him with a trust that says,
“I’m still fighting.” His bravery is woven into every breath, every moment, every fragile victory he can grasp.
Tomorrow begins the next chapter — one of the hardest yet.
Cylus will start MIBG therapy, a powerful form of internal radiation used only when the stakes are incredibly high. For four long days, he will receive radioactive treatment strong enough that he must remain in isolation. No hugs. No kisses. No holding hands. His parents will have to watch him through a barrier — close, yet painfully far.
Four days of fighting.
Four days of fear.
Four days of hoping the treatment stops what feels unstoppable.
To imagine a child facing that alone is unbearable. But Cylus’ spirit, somehow, continues to rise in the face of the unthinkable. Even when his body is exhausted. Even when cancer tries to steal pieces of him one by one. Even when pain shadows his smile.
He still finds light.
A quiet grin.
A moment of silliness.
A spark of bravery shining through exhaustion.
Those moments are miracles in themselves.
His family stands at his side, carrying a weight no parent should ever have to bear: the helplessness of watching a child suffer, the terror of what tomorrow might bring, and the desperate hope that clings to them even when fear feels overwhelming. Their love is fierce. Their prayers are constant. Their belief in miracles is the thread holding them together day after day.
Because when medicine feels small, hope becomes everything.
And today, that hope is what keeps them standing.
Hope that the MIBG therapy slows the tumor.
Hope that his facial nerve can recover.
Hope that the cancer will finally lose ground.
Hope that Cylus — sweet, brave Cylus — will get the childhood he deserves, free from pain, fear, and hospital walls.
This journey has been brutal, unpredictable, and unfair. But it has also revealed the extraordinary resilience of a child who continues to choose life, joy, and courage even when the world gives him every reason to give up.
Cylus’ story is a reminder of what strength truly looks
Some updates break the heart before the first sentence is even written. Today is one of those updates — the kind no parent ever wants to share, the kind no child should ever have to live through. And yet, for brave young Cylus, this is the reality he faces with a strength far beyond his years.
What began as ordinary childhood discomfort — headaches, then a troubling pain behind the eye — took a devastating turn. Within days, the entire left side of his face stopped moving. To watch a child’s smile fade into paralysis is a nightmare no parent can prepare for.
Doctors moved quickly. Scans. Tests. More questions than answers. And then, the discovery that shifted everyone’s world: a new mass at the base of Cylus’ skull, growing in a place where nothing should ever grow, pressing mercilessly against his facial nerve.
It was not just another complication.
It was another battle in a war his small body has already been fighting far too long.
Cylus has faced spreading cancer. He has endured fractures that no child should suffer. He has survived infections, treatments, and pain that could break the strongest of adults. Yet through every devastating twist in his journey, one thing remains constant:
He refuses to give up.
His courage is not loud. It is quiet, steady, and deeply human. It shows in the way he still tries to smile. In the way he reaches for comfort. In the way he looks at the people who love him with a trust that says,
“I’m still fighting.” His bravery is woven into every breath, every moment, every fragile victory he can grasp.
Tomorrow begins the next chapter — one of the hardest yet.
Cylus will start MIBG therapy, a powerful form of internal radiation used only when the stakes are incredibly high. For four long days, he will receive radioactive treatment strong enough that he must remain in isolation. No hugs. No kisses. No holding hands. His parents will have to watch him through a barrier — close, yet painfully far.
Four days of fighting.
Four days of fear.
Four days of hoping the treatment stops what feels unstoppable.
To imagine a child facing that alone is unbearable. But Cylus’ spirit, somehow, continues to rise in the face of the unthinkable. Even when his body is exhausted. Even when cancer tries to steal pieces of him one by one. Even when pain shadows his smile.
He still finds light.
A quiet grin.
A moment of silliness.
A spark of bravery shining through exhaustion.
Those moments are miracles in themselves.
His family stands at his side, carrying a weight no parent should ever have to bear: the helplessness of watching a child suffer, the terror of what tomorrow might bring, and the desperate hope that clings to them even when fear feels overwhelming. Their love is fierce. Their prayers are constant. Their belief in miracles is the thread holding them together day after day.
Because when medicine feels small, hope becomes everything.
And today, that hope is what keeps them standing.
Hope that the MIBG therapy slows the tumor.
Hope that his facial nerve can recover.
Hope that the cancer will finally lose ground.
Hope that Cylus — sweet, brave Cylus — will get the childhood he deserves, free from pain, fear, and hospital walls.
This journey has been brutal, unpredictable, and unfair. But it has also revealed the extraordinary resilience of a child who continues to choose life, joy, and courage even when the world gives him every reason to give up.
Cylus’ story is a reminder of what strength truly looks like — not the absence of fear, but the decision to keep going despite it.
As he steps into this next battle, his family is asking for your prayers, your thoughts, and your belief in miracles. They need a community to stand with them, to lift them when they cannot lift themselves, and to carry hope when their arms grow tired.
Please keep Cylus close in your heart as he begins this four-day fight.
Pray that the radiation reaches every place it needs to.
Pray that his little body remains strong.
Pray that a miracle — the one they so desperately need — finds its way to him.
Because even in the darkest moments, hope can shine brighter than fear.
And right now, Cylus needs all the light we can send.
like — not the absence of fear, but the decision to keep going despite it.
As he steps into this next battle, his family is asking for your prayers, your thoughts, and your belief in miracles. They need a community to stand with them, to lift them when they cannot lift themselves, and to carry hope when their arms grow tired.
Please keep Cylus close in your heart as he begins this four-day fight.
Pray that the radiation reaches every place it needs to.
Pray that his little body remains strong.
Pray that a miracle — the one they so desperately need — finds its way to him.
Because even in the darkest moments, hope can shine brighter than fear.
And right now, Cylus needs all the light we can send.