Ellie Levine - Conquering Leukemia
Donation protected
We are heartbroken and need your help. Please read Ellie’s story and give what you can.
Two weeks ago, we were still picking out pieces of cake from the carpet after Ellie’s fifth birthday party. We were running after her as she tore down the street on her bicycle. We were watching in awe as she mastered the “big kids” monkey bars at the playground. We were cheering her on, poolside, as she trained for the Wayland Junior Warriors swim team. We were beaming with pride as she stuck up for her little sister Annie at preschool (then, recoiling a moment later, from their high-pitched screams at each other). We were “traveling to exotic lands” on an imaginary airplane she had built from cardboard. She offered us “in-flight dining”, made “hotel reservations” and even packed everyone’s bags. In retrospect, her intuition seems uncanny.
A week later, she was in the hospital with cancer.
On March 21, the same day we were expecting to hear great news about her acceptance to a Kindergarten Spanish Immersion Program, we got the worst news imaginable and embarked on an entirely different journey. At her five-year wellness checkup, Ellie’s complaints of neck and arm pain, bruises on her shins, and red dots on her stomach and chest prompted her pediatrician to order blood work. The results were ominous, and follow-up tests quickly confirmed their suspicions and our worst nightmare. By the end of the day, instead of meeting with her new principal, we were meeting with a pediatric oncologist at Boston Children’s Hospital where he explained that Ellie had leukemia. That’s how fast our lives changed forever.
Ellie has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL), B Type. Untreated, it could kill her in months. ALL is the most common type of childhood cancer and, fortunately, has very good long-term prognosis (98% of children go into remission soon after treatment, and 90% of those children are cured). Ellie has started chemo. The initial treatment will last about a month and confine her to the hospital. If successful, she can go home and continue primarily as an outpatient, with full treatment lasting through several more stages of chemo for a total of 24 months.
Ellie has been a trooper, “one of the bravest kids” they have seen. She hates the needles, but enjoys exploring the hospital, watching Disney videos, and getting presents. Her drug-induced mood swings are wrenching, but her voracious appetite and love of new people, places, and experiences returns quickly. She still relishes bath time (even with a PICC line in her arm), paints her toenails sparkly purple, and fights with her sister over toys. She still likes things exactly her way and is teaching us how to live in the present - the only way we can cut through the recurring bouts of fear and helplessness that grip us.
Medically, we are in the best of hands with the team at Boston Children’s. Logistically and emotionally, our extraordinary local community has carried us. And Ellie’s indomitable spirit, unquenchable joy, and contagious joie de vivre light up the room. The financial side of things, however, is unsettling and harder to know how to handle. Doctors, financial experts, and other families who have dealt with this say that, even with good insurance, we should expect out-of-pocket expenses far beyond annual deductibles and co-pays--easily many thousands of dollars over the next few years. So, while insurance should pay for Ellie to beat the leukemia, keeping the family stable financially will be much harder. We are grateful for any contribution you can make and encourage you to share Ellie’s story with others if you feel so inclined.
We are slowly, painfully beginning to accept that, even when Ellie makes a full recovery, our lives won’t be the same. Yet, we remain optimistic and grateful in light of the incredible care and support we have received from so many people. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll look back on this as the biggest (mis)adventure of our lives, an unplanned “layover” to be sure, but one that will forever remind us not to take a single moment for granted.
Thank you for your love, faith, and generosity.
With Deep Gratitude,
Leah, Doug, Ellie, and Annie

Two weeks ago, we were still picking out pieces of cake from the carpet after Ellie’s fifth birthday party. We were running after her as she tore down the street on her bicycle. We were watching in awe as she mastered the “big kids” monkey bars at the playground. We were cheering her on, poolside, as she trained for the Wayland Junior Warriors swim team. We were beaming with pride as she stuck up for her little sister Annie at preschool (then, recoiling a moment later, from their high-pitched screams at each other). We were “traveling to exotic lands” on an imaginary airplane she had built from cardboard. She offered us “in-flight dining”, made “hotel reservations” and even packed everyone’s bags. In retrospect, her intuition seems uncanny.
A week later, she was in the hospital with cancer.
On March 21, the same day we were expecting to hear great news about her acceptance to a Kindergarten Spanish Immersion Program, we got the worst news imaginable and embarked on an entirely different journey. At her five-year wellness checkup, Ellie’s complaints of neck and arm pain, bruises on her shins, and red dots on her stomach and chest prompted her pediatrician to order blood work. The results were ominous, and follow-up tests quickly confirmed their suspicions and our worst nightmare. By the end of the day, instead of meeting with her new principal, we were meeting with a pediatric oncologist at Boston Children’s Hospital where he explained that Ellie had leukemia. That’s how fast our lives changed forever.
Ellie has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL), B Type. Untreated, it could kill her in months. ALL is the most common type of childhood cancer and, fortunately, has very good long-term prognosis (98% of children go into remission soon after treatment, and 90% of those children are cured). Ellie has started chemo. The initial treatment will last about a month and confine her to the hospital. If successful, she can go home and continue primarily as an outpatient, with full treatment lasting through several more stages of chemo for a total of 24 months.
Ellie has been a trooper, “one of the bravest kids” they have seen. She hates the needles, but enjoys exploring the hospital, watching Disney videos, and getting presents. Her drug-induced mood swings are wrenching, but her voracious appetite and love of new people, places, and experiences returns quickly. She still relishes bath time (even with a PICC line in her arm), paints her toenails sparkly purple, and fights with her sister over toys. She still likes things exactly her way and is teaching us how to live in the present - the only way we can cut through the recurring bouts of fear and helplessness that grip us.
Medically, we are in the best of hands with the team at Boston Children’s. Logistically and emotionally, our extraordinary local community has carried us. And Ellie’s indomitable spirit, unquenchable joy, and contagious joie de vivre light up the room. The financial side of things, however, is unsettling and harder to know how to handle. Doctors, financial experts, and other families who have dealt with this say that, even with good insurance, we should expect out-of-pocket expenses far beyond annual deductibles and co-pays--easily many thousands of dollars over the next few years. So, while insurance should pay for Ellie to beat the leukemia, keeping the family stable financially will be much harder. We are grateful for any contribution you can make and encourage you to share Ellie’s story with others if you feel so inclined.
We are slowly, painfully beginning to accept that, even when Ellie makes a full recovery, our lives won’t be the same. Yet, we remain optimistic and grateful in light of the incredible care and support we have received from so many people. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll look back on this as the biggest (mis)adventure of our lives, an unplanned “layover” to be sure, but one that will forever remind us not to take a single moment for granted.
Thank you for your love, faith, and generosity.
With Deep Gratitude,
Leah, Doug, Ellie, and Annie
Organizer
Leah Levine
Organizer
Wayland, MA
