This bright smile belongs to 7-year-old Rylin, a brave little warrior fighting Stage 4 Neuroblastoma.
She’s now starting her fourth round of chemotherapy, and after this one, doctors plan a long surgery to remove the tumor in her abdomen.

Her body is tired, her immune system weak — she even caught a cold that forced her into isolation.
But through it all, she keeps smiling.
Even when her blood counts drop, even when she has to return late at night for another injection, her courage never fades.
Her journey will touch your heart — don’t miss what happens next.
The full story is in the comments below.

This beautiful smile?

It belongs to seven-year-old Rylin, a little girl whose courage shines brighter than any fear.

Rylin’s journey began when her parents heard the words no mother or father should ever have to hear:

“Stage 4 Neuroblastoma.”
The world seemed to stop.
She was just a child — full of laughter, imagination, and that gap-toothed grin that could melt hearts.
But cancer didn’t care.

Her first chemotherapy began in her home state of West Virginia.
Even then, she held her teddy bear in one hand and gave the nurse a brave smile, as if saying,

“I’m ready.”

Later, her parents transferred her treatment to Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York, one of the best hospitals in the world for her condition — a place filled with experts who fight Neuroblastoma every single day.

Now, at MSK, she’s preparing for her fourth round of chemotherapy — her third cycle in New York.
Each round brings exhaustion, nausea, and pain that most adults could barely endure.

But Rylin?
She faces it with sparkly stickers on her IV pole and her favorite blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

When this round ends, she’ll go into surgery on November 13th

.
Doctors will work for 8–10 hours to remove the tumor in her abdomen.

It’s a terrifying thought for any parent — to watch your child wheeled away, knowing the outcome depends on hope, science, and prayer.

But Rylin’s family has learned something powerful over these months: courage isn’t the absence of fear.
It’s smiling in the middle of it.

The family will remain in New York until January, living between hospital rooms and a nearby hotel.

It’s not easy — days blur into nights, and holidays pass quietly.

But what keeps them going are the small moments — Rylin’s laughter, her drawings taped on the hospital wall, her whispered jokes to the nurses.

Her mother says, “That smile keeps us alive.”

Recently, there was a setback.
Rylin tested positive for the Rhino virus — the common cold.

For most people, it’s nothing.
But for a child who is

neutropenic, meaning her body has no white blood cells to fight infection, even a simple cold can be dangerous.
Because of that, she’s now in isolation — no playroom, no hugs from friends, just the quiet beeping of machines and the comforting voice of her parents.

Usually, when a fever breaks and no infection is found, patients can be discharged after 48 hours.
But since Rylin’s last round of chemo was particularly tough, her doctors are being cautious.

They want to make sure she’s completely fever-free and that her blood counts are strong again before she can go home.
So, they wait.

The night before, her counts weren’t high enough to start the next phase.

Her family returned to the hotel, trying to rest, but hope never sleeps.

Late that night, they went back to the hospital for another injection — a shot designed to help boost her blood cell production.

Every small improvement is a victory.

Chemotherapy is powerful, but it comes with a cruel price.
It can damage or destroy the bone marrow, the body’s source of new blood cells.

To protect her future, doctors collected and stored Rylin’s healthy stem cells — the special “starter” cells that can grow into any type of blood cell.

If her cancer ever returns, or if she needs stronger chemotherapy later, those preserved cells can be given back to her to help her body rebuild.

It’s science mixed with faith — a safety net woven with love and hope.

The process of collecting stem cells can take up to three days, depending on how much her body produces each day.

Her family watches and prays.
Every vial of cells represents a chance at tomorrow.

Through it all, Rylin keeps smiling.
Even when her arms are covered in tape, even when she feels too tired to play.
Her smile is her armor — bright, unbreakable, and full of life.

Her parents say that when people send cards or little notes, she lights up the whole room.
So they’ve shared their address, hoping the world will join them in lifting her spirit — one letter, one heart at a time.

Because behind that beautiful smile is a little girl fighting with all she has.
And somehow, she’s teaching everyone around her what real bravery looks like.