09/21/2026
Apparently, some people have decided they know enough about my daughter’s cancer to make accusations about her, our family, and the donations jars around Crooksville that have been sat out months ago to help us.
So let me clear something up.
I have no problem whatsoever with anyone wanting to remove a donation jar. If a business, or organization no longer wants one sitting out, that is completely their choice. Honestly, I had even forgotten that some of them were still out there.
What is incredibly hurtful and completely wrong, however, is telling people to remove them because “Brynlee is cancer-free” and then allowing that statement to turn into accusations that we are somehow lying about our daughter.
Let me be very clear
We are not lying about our daughter.
We are not lying about her diagnosis.
We are not lying about her treatment.
We are not lying about what she has been through.
And we certainly are not going to make up something as horrific as cancer for attention, money, or anything else.
I wish with every single part of my heart that the people saying these things were right.
I wish I could say, “Yes, Brynlee is cancer-free. She beat cancer. It’s over.”
I WISH I COULD.
But that is not the reality we have been given.
Brynlee has ATRT atypical teratoid/rhabdoid tumor a rare, aggressive, grade 4 brain cancer. It is a cancer that primarily affects very young children, and it is incredibly serious. ATRT is a fast growing and treatment can involve surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, high-dose chemotherapy and stem-cell transplant which she has all had.
And because apparently people need to be educated before they speak about a child they don’t live with, cancer is not as simple as “she had cancer, she got treatment, so now she’s cancer-free.”
Remission and cure are not interchangeable terms. A person can have no detectable signs of cancer and still require continued monitoring because cancer can return. Some doctors may use the word “cured” after five years of complete remission, but even then, cancer can sometimes return later and ATRT is not some ordinary childhood illness that we can just check off a list and move on from.
ATRT is rare. It is aggressive. It is a grade 4 cancer. It requires continued monitoring and treatment decisions based on Brynlee’s individual disease, response, scans, and medical team. There are children who survive ATRT, and there are children who unfortunately do not. Research has shown how serious this disease is, while also showing that some children can have long-term survival with intensive treatment.
So when someone casually says “She’s cancer-free” as if they know more than her parents, her doctors, her scans, her treatment history, or her medical records, please understand how unbelievably painful that is.
You don’t see the appointments.
You don’t see the scans.
You don’t see the fear that comes every time a scan is scheduled.
You don’t see the medications.
You don’t see the treatments.
You don’t see the hospital rooms.
You don’t see the nights we lay awake wondering what the next scan will show.
You don’t see everything this little girl has already endured.
You don’t see what her diagnosis has done to our family.
You don’t see the things we don’t post because sometimes we simply don’t have the strength to put them into words.
You see a picture of a smiling little girl.
And believe me, I am grateful for every single smile.
But a smile does not erase cancer.
A birthday party does not erase cancer.
A good day does not erase cancer.
A day spent at home does not erase cancer.
And a scan showing no growth of disease at a particular moment does not give strangers permission to rewrite her diagnosis or tell the world that her battle is over.
We pray every single day that someday we can say that.
I would give anything to be able to say, “Our daughter beat cancer and never has to worry about it again.”
But I cannot promise something that nobody can promise us.
And I refuse to lie about something this serious just to make other people more comfortable.
If you want to remove a donation jar, remove it.
If you don’t want to donate, don’t donate.
If you don’t agree with us, that’s okay.
But do not accuse us of lying about our child.
Do not take something you don’t understand and turn it into gossip.
Do not tell people that we are exploiting our daughter’s cancer.
Do not make assumptions about where we are in her journey.
And please don’t make a child with a life-threatening illness the subject of conversations that are based on rumors rather than facts.
There is already more than enough heartbreak in our lives without having to defend the existence of our daughter’s cancer to people who have never sat in the rooms we’ve sat in.
We didn’t choose this.
Brynlee didn’t choose this.
We didn’t ask for donations because this was some easy way to make money.
We accepted help because our daughter has cancer, and cancer changes everything, emotionally, physically, financially, and mentally.
Every person who has ever donated, prayed, shared her story, sent her something, supported us, or simply asked how she is doing has meant more to our family than they will ever know.
And to those people, thank you.
Thank you for believing us.
Thank you for believing in Brynlee.
Thank you for seeing the little girl behind the diagnosis.
Thank you for understanding that this isn’t something we can just switch off because someone decided she’s “cancer-free.”
I also want to say something to the people who have been talking
I genuinely hope that one day you are right.
I hope one day I can come back here and tell every single person that Brynlee is truly done with cancer.
I hope one day cancer is nothing more than a chapter in her childhood that she survived.
I hope one day I don’t have to explain ATRT to anybody.
I hope one day the words “brain cancer” don’t immediately make my stomach drop.
I hope one day scans don’t scare me.
I hope one day I can look at my daughter and only think about her being a little girl not her diagnosis.
I hope you are right.
But right now, you aren’t.
And I would appreciate it if people stopped pretending they know more about my daughter’s condition than the people who live it every single day.
You don’t have to donate.
You don’t have to share.
You don’t have to understand every part of our journey.
But you do need to understand that Brynlee’s cancer is real.
Her fight is real.
Her diagnosis is real.
The fear is real.
And so is the love we have for this little girl.
If you’re going to talk about her, at least take the time to learn what you’re talking about before you make accusations.
Because behind every rumor is a real family.
And behind ours is a little girl who has already had to fight far harder than any child ever should.
Brynlee is not a rumor.
Her cancer is not a rumor.
Her story is not a lie.
So I’m going to say this once, and I’m going to make it very clear before you “think” you know what is going on with Brynlee, before you repeat something you heard, before you make an accusation, and before you decide you know more about my daughter’s cancer than her own family does, educate yourself.
Ask questions instead of assuming. Learn the difference between remission, no evidence of disease, and being cured. Learn about ATRT. Learn what this diagnosis actually means. Learn what families like ours live with long after the hospital bracelets come off.
And most importantly, remember that you are talking about a real little girl.
You do not get to create your own version of our daughter’s medical journey and then accuse us of lying based on it for your own entertainment.
If you don’t know the facts, don’t speak as though you do.
Because we live this every single day.
We know her diagnosis.
We know her scans.
We know her treatments.
We know her doctors.
We know what we’ve been told.
And we know what our daughter has endured.
So before you “think” you know, make sure you actually know.
And if you don’t, the respectful thing to do is simply stop talking about something you don’t understand.
Brynlee deserves better than that.
