Our family never imagined we would be writing something like this, but life changed for us in a single moment.

We are the Harris family, a family of six with four children. Leon is our youngest. He is thoughtful, observant, and quietly brave in ways that continually surprise everyone around him. On June 3, 2025, Leon was diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Since that day, our lives have taken on a new rhythm shaped by hospital visits, treatment schedules, and learning how to move forward one day at a time.

As parents, we are constantly balancing strength and worry. We want to be fully present for Leon while also keeping life as steady as possible for his siblings, who are adjusting to hospital routines and uncertainty alongside him. That balance has become more difficult over time. In December, I lost my job. Around the same time, maintaining uninterrupted medical care meant transitioning to COBRA health insurance so Leon could continue treatment with his existing care team.

That transition came with a delay. Although Leon was medically cleared to go home on New Year’s Day, insurance issues meant he was required to remain inpatient for an additional seven days while coverage was resolved. He was not allowed to leave the hospital until January 8. While his care continued, that experience underscored how closely treatment, insurance, and daily life are tied together during this process.

His days of treatment are a mix of fluids, medications, chemotherapy, and long stretches of waiting. Leon would be the first to tell you that boredom is one of the hardest parts. He considers mom and dad “boring” by hospital standards and eagerly asks when volunteers from the nearby college might stop by to play games or spend time with the kids. On days when he is especially impatient, hospital-wide bingo is something he lives for. Music therapy has also become a source of comfort, helping him through long hours and difficult moments, especially on days when nausea makes everything harder.

Leon has earned the admiration of his medical team for his composure and courage. He takes pride in not needing sedation for most procedures, including lumbar punctures and PICC line insertions and removals. Early on, when he was asked if he had any questions about his diagnosis, his response was simple: “I want to see it.” He wanted to see his cancer. He became the first patient they had ever had to ask for that, and the team honored his request. Leon meets fear by understanding it.

Leon is also known at the hospital as the “dinner roll fan,” a name that came about in a very ordinary way. On one trip to the hospital, we stopped to pick up snacks beforehand. Everyone else chose something simple: candy, a sandwich, something quick. Leon carefully considered his options and chose an entire package of dinner rolls. During the inpatient stay that followed the next week, he asked for dinner rolls with every meal. The staff noticed, smiled, and remembered. In a place defined by tests and treatments, that small preference became part of how Leon is known.

Outside the hospital, Leon looks forward most to being with his classmates, spending time with his brother Steven, and keeping up with Mystery Science at school. Those connections remind him, and all of us, of the life he is working so hard to return to.

Leon’s treatment plan spans numerous years. We have adjusted, pared back, and made careful decisions to keep moving forward, focusing on continuity of care and stability at home. Some months are more manageable than others, but the margin has grown thinner as time goes on.

We have set a fundraising goal of $30,000, which is intended to help cover approximately six months of insurance premiums, medical expenses, travel related to treatment, and everyday household needs. Our hope is that this support can provide some stability over the next several months, particularly around insurance coverage and medical continuity, while our attention remains centered on Leon’s care.

Our hope is simple. We want Leon to be able to focus on healing and growing, on curiosity, learning, laughter, and dinner rolls, rather than on the weight of circumstances surrounding his illness. Leon continues to show up each day with quiet resolve, and we are doing our best to meet that strength with everything we have.

Any support shared with our family will be received with deep gratitude. As Leon continues treatment, we plan to provide regular updates so those following his journey can see how he is doing.

Sharing our story is not something we do lightly. We are doing so because community matters, and because we have learned that even quiet support can carry a family through an extraordinarily difficult chapter. We understand that everyone has their own responsibilities and commitments, and we are grateful simply for the time taken to read our story.

With sincere gratitude,

The Harris Family