Abigale Vanhoosier

The first symptoms we seen in Abby - Difficulty walking, an increase in clumsiness, she was falling almost every 4-5 steps. Using the restroom, the start of urination took a few minutes (not exaggerating) I don't believe this is a common first symptom often reported. Slurred speech, the day before diagnosis, it was so hard to understand what she was saying. I would LOVE to see the support that other cancers get during their awareness months. Can you help spread awareness for Brain Cancer and going GRAY IN MAY!? 🩶🎗

Allie Andres

Allie's word was FEARLESS (from Joshua 1:9)...that's how she faced DMG and it's what I've seen from so many of these children! Unparalleled courage 💚🩶

Avontaa Hall Jr.

Dalton Close

Today kicks off the month of May “Brain Cancer awareness month.” Here is my warrior …. We fight everyday in the valley and seek the light in all things!! #behindtheribbon #livingeverymoment #dmgwarrior #DaltonStrong

David Turner Jr.

Eight years. They say time heals, but I can still close my eyes and feel the cold, sterile air of that room. I can still see the faces. Eight years ago today—on our wedding anniversary, of all days—the world didn't just stop; it shattered. "Your child has cancer." Those are the words that stay under your skin, the words no parent is ever prepared to hear. David Jr. was only six years old. The memories of Diagnosis Day don't fade; they replay in a loop of raw, jagged trauma. I can still feel the frantic energy of Trauma Room 2 at Norton Children’s—the whirlwind of nurses and staff. The registration clerk asking me who would be the guarantor; it felt cold and inappropriate as I was frantically trying to comfort my son and she just wanted to know who would be responsible to pay the bill. For three years, one month, and four days after that, we couldn't even whisper the word "IV" any where near David Jr without the terror returning from Diagnosis Day. I remember the agonizing wait. I remember the mantra screaming in my head: Time saved, brain saved; we were sent to the ER under the impression David Jr suffered a stroke. I was bracing for a stroke, praying for a recovery, never imagining the monster that was actually waiting for us. The door finally opened after what felt like an eternity. I didn't see the doctor at first. I saw the box of tissues in the hand of the nurse with him. My stomach dropped into a void I haven’t climbed out of since. That simple box of tissues told the story before he opened his mouth. The MRI revealed a mass at the base of his brain. I looked at their faces and could see their pain in having to say those words. The words were heavy, cold, and final, yet they left us suspended in a terrifying unknown as we waited for a full MRI of his spine to be completed. When we finally returned to David Jr.’s side, the room was draped in darkness and silence. He was sedated, peaceful; this was the opposite of the trauma, fear and chaos that filled the room upon our arrival. Then came the "parade"—the same neurologists and staff who had been a blur of urgency before. But this time, they were silent. They moved through the shadows of the room like ghosts. They didn't have to say a word. I saw it in the way they touched the foot of his bed. I saw it in their eyes—that look of profound, helpless pity. They knew. They knew before we knew. Even before the oncologist walked in, their silence confirmed what the tissues had hinted at: we were facing a fight impossible to win. Eight years later, the trauma of that room still echoes and plays on constant repeat in my mind. #childhoodcancer #DDay #diagnosisday #davidsadventure #makeeverydaythebestdayever #childloss #greif #trauma #tough2gether Elizabeth and David Turner Parents of David Turner Jr #Makeeverydaythebestdayever #Davidsadventure

Jace Ward

When the doctors told him, “You have 6-9 months,” his response was both heartbreaking and powerful: “I’m not afraid to die; I’m afraid I won’t make an impact before I do.” That became not just his mindset, but his mission. Rather than retreat, Jace pushed forward. He didn’t just fight for himself — he fought for every child, every family, every person who would come after him facing DIPG or similar brain cancers. On the Tough2gether “Meet Jace” page, his mantra is clear: “I can’t die, I’m busy.” He traveled, advocated, learned, and connected. He researched clinical trials and asked hard questions: when he had a biopsy, he didn’t just accept pain and prognosis — he pressed: “Which trial should I do next?” He realized that many families don’t have the infrastructure, the support, or the resources to navigate complex cancer trials. So he turned his energy toward building something bigger than himself — a system to help others.

Jace Ward's Friends

Behind the ribbon is a group of friends held together by a kid trying just as hard as them to cherish the time spent together. We'll always have the pandemic years acting our age and managing our scrappy fall risk, but no matter how well you prioritize your time, it seems like you'll always regret not spending more time with them. Check on the friends🩶 #BehindTheRibbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness Jace Ward - #Tough2Gether tough2gether.org

Jasper Rodriguez

Children with cancer aren't always in a hospital bed. Jasper was diagnosed with DIPG, a terminal brain cancer, when he was four years old. Since that time we've tried to find a balance between making memories, preparing for the future, juggling medical needs, and letting Jasper live a normal full life. This isn't for the fainthearted. It's more difficult than it seems. Jasper sometimes blends in with his peers--going to school, church, playing at the park or playing tee ball. Other times he stands out--when he needs a break, a ride in his rocket ship wheel chair, or a hand to walk. Watching Jasper, we are so impressed at everything he accomplishes. And to be honest, we are heartbroken sometimes too, when "normal" things are a challenge for him or when he faces things most children and adults never will. So sad sometimes, but mostly just incredibly proud. As parents, we want Jasper to do everything he would like to do. We will never tell him he is unable--we will continue to let his eyes light up with excitement about a new idea he'd like to try. And we'll find a way! Fighting cancer looks different for kids than it does adults. Jasper leaves cancer in the rearview mirror to play and focus on happiness each day. He is determined to live his little life his way and we are watching in amazement at all he accomplishes. #Tough2gether #BehindTheRibbon

Jayana Rose

JAYANA ROSE MARIE 🥀 DIAGNOSED WITH DIPG/DMG THANKSGIVING 2023 My daughter was so funny so beautiful and very smart . She loved to play with her nerf guns , swim , and loved all her friends and siblings. She was diagnosed at the age of 4 years old and passed at age 6. When she was about to start, kindergarten she started her second round of radiation so she never made it because that’s when the decline started. Jayana was going to do amazing things in life. Now she’s is our angel 👼🏻 watching over all of us . We now live for her , doing right by her and she is forever our little angel. We miss her dearly. She was the best daughter you can ever ask for, with out her there is and empty space , until we meet again. #behind the ribbon #ourangel whatever you think is cute 🥰 go ahead I don’t mind One thing people don’t see behind the ribbon is radiation really messes them up, and the steroids making you not walking anymore, making you not be able to talk you get so swollen to the point where I’m able to do anything You can definitely spellcheck this for me because it is hard to talk about it I’m doing the best I can My child’s biggest strength? Bravery.? she woke up ready to go. She woke up every day for radiation before me. She’d wake me up and she was always so positive ready to go. She wanted to get better. She thought she was going to get better. She would tell me mommy I take all my medicine and I’ll get better right, I would tell her yes baby. I wish people would understand how scary it is to get a diagnosis like this! That is quick fast and terminal. I wish we had medicine to attack this to help save these innocent children My daughter fought so hard she wanted to live. DIPG/DMG change our life forever by taking our daughter from us in such a cruel way she couldn’t walk no more she couldn’t eat no more she couldn’t talk no more all she could do was stare while we took care of her . We would still keep taking care of her right now if we could. We hope they find a cure ASAP IF THERE’S ANYWAY I CAN HELP I SURE WOULD!

Jazmyn Piedra

Jazmyn Suzanne Piedra was born on May 6, 2008. She gained her angel wings on May 19, 2015. Just 13 days after she turned 7. She was one of the many victims of the monster DIPG (Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma). She lost consciousness at her birthday party after participating in a trial in Michigan’s Helen Devos Children’s Hospital. Finally, a trial after so many refusals! We paid for our flight to Michigan, but were brought home by Wings of Mercy after so many charities failed us. Every Sunday morning Grandma would get a call from Jazmyn “Grandma, do you want to go to breakfast at Denny’s with me?” There, she would order chocolate chip pancakes and hardly eat any of them. She really preferred her favorite fruit, the tomato, with berries coming in a mean second. She also loved peppers, “man with a face” (KFC) fried chicken, Cici’s spinach alfredo pizza, and Taco Bell supreme tacos with lots of sour cream. She especially loved the donuts from Dunkin with strawberry frosting and sprinkles. Jazmyn loved to bake. Her favorite color was pink, so most of her baked goods were pink with sprinkles. There was a lot of pink in her wardrobe too. Jazmyn was an artist. Her artwork was as vibrant, colorful and beautiful as she was. Jazmyn wouldn’t let anyone read to her. She would take over the book and read to them by looking at the pictures. One of her friends from daycare described her as having a good imagination from witnessing this. Her favorite book was about narwhals that she loved to read to her grandpa. Jazmyn was a caretaker. She took care of her cat “Cutie” and any other family member for friend who needed her. She wanted to be a veterinarian. She also told her mom and Auntie that she wished that she could “live forever”. Please consider a donation in her name to the tough2gether foundation.

Joe Purdue

This is Joe Purdue. He was just 18 years old when he was diagnosed with DIPG on July 25, 2022—only two months after graduating from high school, standing on the edge of everything he had worked toward and dreamed about. Behind the ribbon is not just a diagnosis. It’s a young man who had his whole life in front of him—plans, goals, and a future that should have been his to shape. Joe loved deeply—his family, his friends, football, hockey, and every moment of life he was given. He was the kind of person who embraced it all, who looked forward to what came next with excitement and purpose. What people don’t always see behind the ribbon is the life that was interrupted. Joe didn’t want to leave. He wanted to go to college, build a career, fall in love, get married, have children, and grow old surrounded by the people he cherished. He had dreams just like anyone else—dreams that were unfairly taken from him. Joe is no longer suffering, but the people who love him carry that loss every single day. His parents, his brother and sister, his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends are left holding onto memories instead of making new ones with him. There are empty seats, missed milestones, and a future that looks different than it should. Because of DIPG, we will never get to see Joe grow into the man he was meant to become. But we will continue to honor who he was, the love he gave, and the life he should have had—because behind every ribbon is a story that deserves to be remembered.

Kaylee Gibbs-Starnes

Kaylee is a 17 year-old who loves fishing, driving her Mustang, hanging out with friends, working, softball, deer hunting, animals of all kinds, she wanted to be a vet since she was little , wanted to work with horses. Her love for music was bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. she is kind, sweet, caring. This horrible disease has taken everything from her. She can no longer sit up on her own, shower on her own, dress her self , she can’t stand, can’t wiggle her toes. Her love for music has went out the door. She doesn’t find joy in much anymore. Although she’s still very much herself in her mind, she still loves to joke around, harasses her dad, and her brother, and her uncles, she now enjoys online shopping and things that she can do from her bed. We have been fishing a few times. It’s a lot harder to do now, but she absolutely loves fishing. While her friends are all hanging out, attending parties, attending prom, Kaylee’s in and out hospitals, doing treatment getting fluids, battling this horrible disease, battling blood clots and just being tortured Dailey. One thing it has not taken from her is her smile amd her sense of humor. Kaylee is stronger than this storm and we have faith that God is gonna help us and be there with us every step of the way.. tinyurl.com/t2g-kaylee #behindtheribbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness

Leo Rhodes

We continue to raise brain cancer awareness in Leo’s honor because his story matters. He was a hero in so many people’s eyes, and we want to continue honoring his legacy. By going grey in May for Brain Cancer Awareness Month, we share his journey, keep his light alive, support other families facing the same fight, and help push for the research and hope that could one day change.

Lily LaRue Anderson

I hate helicopters to this day…. Funny that my eldest daughter Jasmine saw a military helicopter rescue training on the way to her own rescue job ( lifeguard) and sent to me. Thank you to those that serve us. You will *always* have a blessed placed in my retched heart. I’ve always wondered where these amazing stealth women are that hold a very prominent place in my heart. How “lucky” and *lucky* we were to have a team that said NO! We *got* you. Get out and go to a place that we can help you … more of this. Do not settle. EVER. I share with you our Behind the Ribbon moment that happens to be Day 17 of DIPG; also known as “Helicopter Day "in time skips. A million years ago today was #day17ofdipg . I became innately conscious of time and space because of the ticking time bomb that was in our youngest’s 5 year old head. Twin mom life is never *really* “planned” nor had we lived life that way before Dipg. I could barely remember play dates and dance classes without a text "where are you???" Or sticky note. We lived a gypsy life of beautiful chaos.... Then DIPG happened. That weekend we had attended Salaam Shriners Circus with Lily's clowns and a fabulous circus had been dedicated to her . We had just arrived home after 3 weeks of medical Q&A travel. We *missed* home. The last 3 weeks were horrific and strange. We were exhausted. In shock. Everything was SO foreign compared to our simple lives prior to Dipg. SO wrong and off.... and Lily missed her friends and kindergarten and dance classes and her twin brother Brady. We asked the doctors from the 4 out of state hospitals we left, the 2 tumor boards that had Lily's records and multiple foreign country hospitals and “alternative clinics” we spoke with and navigated; all that were running DIPG clinical trials at that time or were open to treating her, for just a few days *to think*. We had no idea what we were up against then... I was up every night till morning reading and searching and trying to find answers.... Using Google and bastardized medical sites to help me understand and navigate research terms and 12 letter words I would later know like the back of my hand. We just needed time to make the "right" decision. We assumed we HAD time. Lily’s brain cancer had been found accidentally while on an annual vacation trip. There had been a pool accident/incident and we just wanted to make sure she could go on amusement park rides the next day. It was May 4th at 1 am when we were finally taken into “the room” and told she had a mass the size of a lemon in her head. We also learned it was dormant. It was there, but it wasn’t “doing anything”…. With the grace and knowledge of a lottery and universe guided team we never knew existed, we hit the DIPG yellow ( gold) brick road we never also never knew existed; naive and so very inexperienced as a parent is navigating a modern day medical nightmare that DIPG remains, in search for cure. Our little Lily had been in almost a manic, hyper state for the past few weeks and days eating everything in sight and running marathons because of the steroids infiltrating her system. On Sunday she was practically catatonic. I knew something was terribly wrong. We were told to go to a local hospital so they could walk those doctors through the tests they needed for answers. The staff had to google what DIPG was. This stopped me dead in my tracks. I was terrified. I quickly realized WE were in charge. Me. My husband. Us. Not the random, well educated medicine man or woman who happened to be on call. Nor the Neuro this nor that we would meet over and over in our 11 month and 2 day journey. No. I had to arm myself with knowledge and resources to be her best advocate. I didn't realize in real time how many doctors and medical staff we actually met and spoke with versus the specific and magic few who stood out, stood UP and made the difference . It is *mind boggling* in hindsight, but makes me now see how a sure path, THE way, is indeed carved and written and very tangible. We ended up on a helicopter that would take us to a facility that COULD help her. A military crew of seriously kick ass women escorted us for the flight to save Lily's life. They kept Lily calm while I sat with the pilot in the front wondering " how the hell did we get here"??? As a notorious picture taker you would think I would have photos of this moment right? Absolutely not and I’ll only briefly touch on why… a part of me and who I was forever evanesced like we did through those clouds. I was in the front of the helicopter with the pilot reminding myself to breathe. Out loud. I could hear the ladies in the back with Lily ; singing and rapping with and to her and making her laugh... and I am dying. I could feel myself for the first time since #day1ofDIPG not in shock because this was different; but in some semblance of a physical and spiritual death spiral . Checking out. But I am not dead because I feel her laughter is vibrating through me, warm and light and the spiral reverses. That changed me and everything. To this day. The stark black and white ping pong of those cumulative moments leave me stupefied to this day. I recall this memory like I’m watching a movie. I leave it there. I bow my head in reverence. I need no explanation. I need no visual photo of a moment ( another moment) so embedded in my muscle memory core. That is all I have to say about that. In posts and updates 18, 19 etc. you will see they stabilized her. A shunt was not needed. Hydrocephalus was not a primary concern yet. This lemon sized mass that had been dormant for at least months, but maybe years? Had woken up. But there WAS a chance it could be something else. We had a 10% chance instead of zero and a biopsy would prove it. Years ago biopsies in the US were NOT "standard". They are done now. Safely and in most cases give answers with biological and critical info. Back then? It was still "too dangerous". In fact, we were heading to a country where a literal handful of surgeons in the world would even attempt to go near a child’s brain stem. Once again, a team stepped in and up to work for and with Lily. One just “happened” to be where we were and another helicopter transfer was not needed. Even in hindsight, the reality of choosing brain stem anything and only clinical trials for our children’s survival ( “or take them home and love them….”) is a place and space that remains untellable to this day. Unfathomable. She made art and took her, then unknown, last steps because other complications after the biopsy (that was needed for answers)set her back for a bit until weeks of daily OT/PT/ RT and therapy guinea pigs happened. .... A few days later, we lived/moved to Bethesda MD for the treatment that honored the quality of life standard we demanded and would ultimately help her, but could not save her.... I think of this time and wonder how I/ we as a family were even able to comprehend, let alone live this. It is inconceivable. If someone told me our story, I would think it fiction or an absurd exaggeration. "Not possible".... Today I had a baby dragonfly land on my lap, an orange monarch butterfly dive bomb me and found a massive mama turtle with her bebes swimming in the pond while a turquoise- headed black bird stole the organic stale bread I fed to the fish proceeded to then swim with fish and turtles while butterflies and dragonflies performed a harmonious spectacle of synchronized dance above. All within 5 minutes of walking out onto the deck this morning. A morning I woke up so heavy with a sad so stealth that tears could drown the whole world. And for a moment I *breathe* . I remember the love not the panic and fear and grief and the missing… I don’t “hate” helicopters as a simplistic trauma response anymore. I am thankful for a second helicopter ride with our NJ State Police where Lily was able to fly above her school and with classmates cheering her on below months later. THAT I documented happily. And I leave you to consider the pond a different kind of “inconceivable” and unimaginable… Because that happened too. The black and white.... " coffee black and egg white". Just like butterflies in elevators happened ( iykyk) but we will save that for another time. I know signs when they come. I trust that. Just like I trust a cure exists. #trustit #teamlilylarue #yellyvoice #ALWAYS

Logan Wilkerson

Logan's doctor achieved a total resection on Logan‘s spinal cord DMG tumor in October 2024. He learned how to walk again in two weeks after his surgery. Then he was hit with chemo and radiation and lost about 25 pounds. Slowly, he gained strength and was able and able to go back to school part time. We saw daily improvements and him and even got to enjoy seeing him running in the sand at the beach last April. 10 days later we were told the tumor had returned. By May 15, he was back in a wheelchair. After participating in an experimental trial where he was the first spinal cord patient and the first child to enroll, Logan slowly started to experience finger weakness. Logan‘s favorite thing in the world was drawing, even winning the county fair best drawing award four years in a row. If he wasn’t drawing, he was playing Legos or creating something out of paper and tape. In the video you can see he worked hard with PT and OT, even the day before he passed. He never regained finger function, which was more devastating to him than losing the use of his legs. But he kept fighting, kept trying. For 15 months.

Madeline Remy

One thing people don’t see behind the ribbon are the young siblings who feel confused, scared, and left out. Siblings are often too young to know the right questions to ask and too young to fully understand what’s happening to their brother or sister. We did the best we could at the time, but looking back, we know there were moments we could have done differently. Emily was only five years old when her sister, Madeline, was diagnosed with DIPG in August of 2017, and six when she passed away. Years later, when Emily was old enough to put words to that experience, she told us she thought Madeline simply had “a long stomach flu.” She believed our trips to Seattle for radiation, chemotherapy, and MRIs were “fun trips,” and that she was being left behind. That’s the part people don’t always see behind the ribbon — while one child is fighting for their life, another child is quietly trying to make sense of a world that suddenly no longer feels safe or understandable. #behindtheribbon #tough2gether

McLaren Grimes

Childhood brain cancer remains the leading cause of cancer-related death in children. Yet, research funding for pediatric cancers continues to lag far behind that of adult cancers. For these families, time isn’t just precious—it’s everything. Delays cost more than minutes; they cost chances. These children deserve urgency. They deserve teams that don’t pause for weekends, labs dedicated to their specific disease, and systems that move in days—not weeks. They deserve care that isn’t disrupted by bureaucracy, and treatment plans that consider the whole child—minimizing harm while supporting the body through every stage, including nutrition and overall well-being. Families deserve to be guided toward the right specialists, not left navigating a system where providers operate beyond their expertise. Too often, the strongest support doesn’t come from the system itself—it comes from foundations. Communities like Jace Ward - #Tough2Gether, built by people who have lived this reality, become lifelines. They offer knowledge, resources, and guidance when families feel lost. They step in where the system falls short. But that level of support shouldn’t be the exception—it should be the standard every child and every family can rely on. #curethefirstcurethemall #theydeservetomorrow #behindtheribbon #braincancerawareness #gograyinmay #mclarenelizabethgrimes #saytheirnames

Miles Lehman

Today, we received the results from Miles's first MRI scan post-radiation treatment, and we are thrilled to share that his tumor has shrunk by 1/3 of its original size. Miles, you continue to live up to your name Mighty Miles. Above all, we are prioritizing this DIPG warrior's quality of life, and he is living and thriving right now. Full of energy, happy at school, ready for some upcoming trips in and out of the country. We're going to do it all, my love. You amaze us every day. It's Nurses week and Teachers Week, and we want to celebrate and give our deepest gratitude to the women who've been wrapping Miles up in love. At school, Miles's beloved Miss Avelinda; at @childrensla Nurse @edif12 in radiation and Nurse Brooke-you made a terrifying experience something that we could all feel comfortable with. At @mydipgnavigator we thank Nurse Mary, for giving Jacob and me a sense of peace knowing that you're guiding us and we aren't alone through this unthinkable journey. We are riding this wave of joy, faith, hope, and above all love. #dipgawareness #behindtheribbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness #StandwithMiles

499 days

"“499 Days” chronicles the poignant journey of Kyler, a spirited young boy from Louisville, KY, diagnosed with DIPG – an aggressive and rare pediatric brainstem cancer with no known survivors. The film captures the essence of Kyler’s resilience, vitality, and spirit in the 499 days from his initial diagnosis until just days shy of his 10th birthday, when he tragically passed away. Through intimate glimpses into Kyler’s life, from his vibrant early days to his courageous battle with DIPG, the documentary explores the profound legacy he left and the deep impact he made on those fortunate enough to know him. We travel with Kyler, from the heart of Louisville to the scenic hills of San Francisco, the sun-kissed beaches of Florida, and along the shores of the Ohio River in Cincinnati, witnessing moments of immense hope, love, fear, confusion, and ultimately, strength. Jamie Buckner – Director & Producer This documentary serves as a lens into the world of a tight-knit community navigating the complexities of a heart-wrenching diagnosis, compounded by the sudden challenges of a global pandemic and a recently complicated family dynamic. At its heart, “499 Days” reveals a story of resilience, courage, and the indomitable human spirit. Through Kyler’s lens, we discover a narrative where even amidst the darkest moments, the power of unity, humor, and hope shine the brightest. Directed and produced by Jamie Buckner, this film aims to be the resource Kyler’s mother, Kristen, wishes she had during those challenging times – a beacon of hope, understanding, and comfort for families enduring similar journeys." louisvillefilmsociety.org/film/499-days/ #behindtheribbon

Avontaa Hall Jr.

David Turner Jr.

Eight years. They say time heals, but I can still close my eyes and feel the cold, sterile air of that room. I can still see the faces. Eight years ago today—on our wedding anniversary, of all days—the world didn't just stop; it shattered. "Your child has cancer." Those are the words that stay under your skin, the words no parent is ever prepared to hear. David Jr. was only six years old. The memories of Diagnosis Day don't fade; they replay in a loop of raw, jagged trauma. I can still feel the frantic energy of Trauma Room 2 at Norton Children’s—the whirlwind of nurses and staff. The registration clerk asking me who would be the guarantor; it felt cold and inappropriate as I was frantically trying to comfort my son and she just wanted to know who would be responsible to pay the bill. For three years, one month, and four days after that, we couldn't even whisper the word "IV" any where near David Jr without the terror returning from Diagnosis Day. I remember the agonizing wait. I remember the mantra screaming in my head: Time saved, brain saved; we were sent to the ER under the impression David Jr suffered a stroke. I was bracing for a stroke, praying for a recovery, never imagining the monster that was actually waiting for us. The door finally opened after what felt like an eternity. I didn't see the doctor at first. I saw the box of tissues in the hand of the nurse with him. My stomach dropped into a void I haven’t climbed out of since. That simple box of tissues told the story before he opened his mouth. The MRI revealed a mass at the base of his brain. I looked at their faces and could see their pain in having to say those words. The words were heavy, cold, and final, yet they left us suspended in a terrifying unknown as we waited for a full MRI of his spine to be completed. When we finally returned to David Jr.’s side, the room was draped in darkness and silence. He was sedated, peaceful; this was the opposite of the trauma, fear and chaos that filled the room upon our arrival. Then came the "parade"—the same neurologists and staff who had been a blur of urgency before. But this time, they were silent. They moved through the shadows of the room like ghosts. They didn't have to say a word. I saw it in the way they touched the foot of his bed. I saw it in their eyes—that look of profound, helpless pity. They knew. They knew before we knew. Even before the oncologist walked in, their silence confirmed what the tissues had hinted at: we were facing a fight impossible to win. Eight years later, the trauma of that room still echoes and plays on constant repeat in my mind. #childhoodcancer #DDay #diagnosisday #davidsadventure #makeeverydaythebestdayever #childloss #greif #trauma #tough2gether Elizabeth and David Turner Parents of David Turner Jr #Makeeverydaythebestdayever #Davidsadventure

Izzy Cashion

Izzy is a 4-year-old that loves playing outside, doing gymnastics, swimming, being with her brothers and pre-school. When she’s in the hospital for the clinical trial she is on, all of the things she loves go away. It’s hard knowing she is missing out on so much of her childhood because of DIPG. There is also no real cure for DIPG, just the hope of a prolonged life. When that is your reality, it makes it even harder to continue with the hospital stays and doctor visits and you wonder if it’s worth it if it means you’re taking away the fun from her life. We try to add in fun when we can, both in and out of the hospital, but it’s not always easy. We travel to California for her trial and it takes a huge toll on the whole family. tough2gether.givecloud.co/fundraisers/4-moms-1-mission #behindtheribbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness

Jamie Buckner

"We really made the movie for three reasons... of course to tell Kyler's story and how amazing of a little boy he was... but also to just raise awareness for this terrible, terrible disease, hopefully raising money for research options and treatment options, and the most important thing which is really what Behind the Ribbon is about... is to create a little bit of a survival guide, a little bit of, as much as you can, a guidebook that she [Kyler's mom] says she did not have when she got this diagnosis initially. There's a community out there, there are people who have been through this... we like to think we've made a story of hope." louisvillefilmsociety.org/film/499-days/

Joe Purdue

This is Joe Purdue. He was just 18 years old when he was diagnosed with DIPG on July 25, 2022—only two months after graduating from high school, standing on the edge of everything he had worked toward and dreamed about. Behind the ribbon is not just a diagnosis. It’s a young man who had his whole life in front of him—plans, goals, and a future that should have been his to shape. Joe loved deeply—his family, his friends, football, hockey, and every moment of life he was given. He was the kind of person who embraced it all, who looked forward to what came next with excitement and purpose. What people don’t always see behind the ribbon is the life that was interrupted. Joe didn’t want to leave. He wanted to go to college, build a career, fall in love, get married, have children, and grow old surrounded by the people he cherished. He had dreams just like anyone else—dreams that were unfairly taken from him. Joe is no longer suffering, but the people who love him carry that loss every single day. His parents, his brother and sister, his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends are left holding onto memories instead of making new ones with him. There are empty seats, missed milestones, and a future that looks different than it should. Because of DIPG, we will never get to see Joe grow into the man he was meant to become. But we will continue to honor who he was, the love he gave, and the life he should have had—because behind every ribbon is a story that deserves to be remembered.

John Paul Macri

This is John Paul Macri. He is 9 years old and was diagnosed with DIPG on March 21, 2025. Behind the ribbon is a little boy who loves his parents, his older brother, his dog, and his friends. He loves studying military history, Star Wars, Legos, playing soccer, and epic Nerf gun battles. His faith in Jesus and his love for all people are among his greatest strengths. What people don’t always see behind the ribbon is a child who is forced to grow up faster than he ever should. The way cancer can take away your hair, your appetite, and your energy. Behind the ribbon are missed days at school, field trips, and birthday parties. Behind the ribbon is a child who is resilient, sometimes scared, and braver than any child should ever have to be. We are sharing John Paul’s story to raise awareness and bring hope for better treatments - so that one day, children like him will have more options, more time, and more cures. http://tinyurl.com/t2g-johnpaul #BehindTheRibbon

Kaylee Gibbs-Starnes

"Behind the ribbon is a girl that loves fishing and just got the freedom of a 16/17yo with a license, but instead of driving her car to a nearby pond or the lake, shes limited to a wheelchair or bedridden staring at 4 bare walls. She still finds ways to do what she loves regardless of her diagnosis. she fights alongside her great grandfather as they battle together, supported by their loving and overly supportive family. Kaylee is tough and has been a fighter of some sort since birth. We walk this fight with her every step of the way." tinyurl.com/t2g-kaylee #behindtheribbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness

Leo Rhodes

Before the hospital bed, there was dancing. There was joy. There was life as it should be Leo was made to dance. DMG tried to silence that… but never his light. This May, we go grey for Leo and for every life impacted. 💛 tinyurl.com/t2g-leo #behindtheribbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness

Noah Halek

This is my beautiful baby boy, Noah Halek. Behind the ribbon is a child who loved cooking and just spending time with his family. Despite the terrible effects of DIPG Noah found ways to love, laugh and have fun. What people might not understand is that you have to be your child's advocate in every moment of every day. Sometimes that means challenging your doctor and other times it simply means teaching your child how to do the most basic movements that they learned when they were much younger. I tried to put myself in Noah's shoes every moment of the day so I could try and make him as comfortable as possible. tinyurl.com/t2g-noah #behindtheribbon #tough2gether #braincancerawareness

Ross Lab

The Ross lab studies anti-tumor immunity in diffuse midline glioma because we believe the next therapeutic success will harness the power of the patient’s own immune system. What motivates our lab is having the potential to make an impact in patient’s lives. We are particularly focused on tumor associated macrophages – immune cells that get tricked by the tumor to help tumor growth instead of mounting an immune response against it. We are focused on these cells because they make up the majority of immune cells in these tumors and are responsible for preventing therapies from achieving their full therapeutic potential. To address this, we are studying the properties of these macrophages in great detail to identify therapeutic points of intervention allowing us to target both tumor cells and macrophages at the same time. The goal of our lab is to identify novel therapies that synergize with existing standard of care or newly emerging therapies to prolong patient survival and find a cure for these devastating tumors.

John Prensner, MD, PhD

I am motivated to cure childhood brain cancer because my life has been touched by the patients and families that I see struggle with these diseases every day in the clinic. My lab’s work is dedicated to unlocking some of the molecular cues that drive brain tumors to grow, and we are working to figure out methods to monitor and treat these underlying molecular causes of disease.

Radwan Ebna Noor, PhD

I am a postdoctoral scientist working at the University of South Florida, Department of Chemistry. After completing my Ph.D. in biophysical chemistry, I joined the Mildred Acevedo-Duncan Ph.D. lab, which is recognized for its advances across various aspects of cancer research, including targeted inhibition of atypical protein kinase C (PKC-i/z). Currently, I am investigating the role of PKC-i expression levels in relation to the malignancy of two incurable pediatric gliomas, Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma (DIPG) and Diffuse Midline Glioma (DMG). My goal is to study the role of inhibitory responses among the PKC-i-related signaling pathways in various cellular mechanisms, such as invasion, migration, and apoptosis of these gliomas, while being inhibited by the ICA-1S inhibitor (alone or in combination with Temozolomide (TMZ)) in vitro.

Industry Template

tinyurl.com/t2g-btr-industry