<div>On September 30th, 2022, we took our son to the hospital because he was limping.
</div>
<div><strong>That visit became a cancer diagnosis</strong>—and a fight that has now lasted over three years.
</div>
<div>He beat cancer once. It came back fast. <strong><em>And we are still fighting.</em></strong>
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>TL;DR:</strong>
</div>
<div>Brighton beat cancer once. It came back just 2½ months later. He’s been fighting Ewing Sarcoma for over three years and is now entering a clinical trial far from home. We’re asking for help to cover medical and travel costs so we can focus on our son—not survival math.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>On September 30th, 2022, our worst nightmare became real.
</div>
<div>We rushed our son, Brighton, to CHOC because of a limp. What we expected to be a routine orthopedic visit quickly turned into something much darker. One week later, we left the hospital with a diagnosis that would change our lives forever.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Brighton had cancer. Bone cancer.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>After biopsies and extensive testing, we learned the name: Ewing Sarcoma—a rare and aggressive cancer most often found in children. It was located in his upper right femur and was already large. The one piece of good news was that it had not spread.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>What followed was nearly a year of treatment—hospital stays, scans, and an incredibly complex surgery that ultimately saved Brighton’s leg. We spent more than 100 nights and countless days in the hospital. During this time, our daughter, Izzie, was navigating 8th grade largely on her own while we lived between hospital rooms and waiting areas.
</div>
<div>In February 2023, Brighton underwent a nine-hour surgery. It was a success. His leg was saved. Recovery was difficult but expected, and eventually he no longer needed a wheelchair. Our surgeon, Dr. Misaghi, became a steady presence in the chaos, and our oncologist, Dr. Rubin—known to us as “Dr. Mom”—became family.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>After surgery, we heard the words every parent dreams of:
</div>
<div>“He is cancer free.”
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>There are no words for that moment.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Brighton finished treatment, and we cautiously stepped back toward normal life. We took a brief celebratory vacation together as a family—grateful simply to breathe after a year defined by hospitals and uncertainty.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>During a routine scan, our world shattered again.
</div>
<div>Brighton had relapsed—only 2½ months after finishing treatment.
</div>
<div>No one expected it. Not the doctors. Not us. The cancer had returned, and this time it had spread. We cried, then did what parents do: we put the armor back on and prepared for the next fight.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Brighton began six weeks of daily proton radiation therapy, commuting from Orange County to San Diego while also starting a new chemotherapy regimen. Since then, he has completed an additional 15 weeks of treatment in San Diego, along with near-daily trips to CHOC for ongoing care and monitoring.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>It has been relentless. And he has faced it with a courage that still humbles us.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Around the same time as Brighton’s relapse, Alex’s job abruptly ended. Between the trauma of the previous year and Brighton’s return to treatment, he wasn’t ready to jump back into another role. At the same time, Paula stepped away from her fledgling career in interior design to become Brighton’s full-time caregiver—managing appointments, treatments, travel, and hospital stays. We had just started a small business and poured everything into keeping it alive. It now has employees and is growing, but we still haven’t paid ourselves. We were incredibly fortunate to maintain health insurance so Brighton could continue treatment.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Brighton is still in treatment—now more than three years into this fight. After many changes in medication, some effective and some not, he has been accepted into a clinical trial at the University of Pennsylvania. When we received the email, we cried tears of hope. This trial gives us something priceless: another chance.
</div>
<div>It also brings new expenses—flights, hotels, medications, and time away from home.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>We are asking for help.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Anything you can give will go directly toward Brighton’s medical care, travel for his clinical trial, and the overwhelming costs that come with fighting relapsed cancer. If any funds raised are not used directly for Brighton, they will be donated to the Little Warriors Foundation to support research and families fighting Ewing Sarcoma.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>If you can’t donate, please consider donating blood. Blood donors have saved Brighton’s life more times than we can count.
</div>
<div>We waited to ask for help until it became necessary. One of the hardest lessons we’ve learned is this: you cannot do this alone.
</div>
<div>If all you can do is read this and keep Brighton in your thoughts, thank you. He is the toughest kid we know. He has endured more than most ever will—and he keeps fighting.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>We are endlessly grateful for your support.
</div>

Spencer Hamer

Viki Johnston

Anonymous

Kyrstne Walker

Mike Marach

Steve Russell

Rebecca Barker

Mark Tull

Geoffrey Fearns

Amber Wiltshire

Michael Vaillancourt

Rosemary Schneider

Della Starman

Jibit Cinar

Noah Burns

Maritza Bernard

Help Brighton continue his fight with cancer

Help Brighton continue his fight with cancer

Still $5,032 to go. Help us build momentum.