All-Star Haakyn

“He looks pale,” a family member of Haakyn commented.

All-Star Haakyn and his family were spending time with their extended family for the holidays when they noticed he looked a little pale. His parents didn’t think anything of it. He was up late running around with his 10 cousins, and as a five-year-old they figured he must be tired from all the action. This observation would soon lead to a life-altering journey.

On New Year’s Eve, Haakyn complained of back pain and had a high fever. Urgent care told them there was nothing wrong – but to give him Miralax for constipation. The next morning, he seemed better, running and playing like his usual self.

But as days passed, something didn’t sit right with his parents, Tory and Ryan. During a basketball game a few days later, a friend commented that Haakyn looked “green.” It was the first time Tory saw it, and her motherly instinct knew something was wrong.

A visit to their primary care doctor confirmed their fears. An x-ray revealed a spot in Haakyn’s belly, and within hours, they were sent to the oncology department, where he was diagnosed with Stage 3 Wilms Tumor—a volleyball-sized tumor pressing against his organs.

Within 48 hours, Haakyn underwent emergency surgery. The tumor had ruptured, and the risks were immense. He spent nine days in the ICU, unable to speak or move because of the pain. The hospital did something out of the ordinary for Haakyn right then. They gave him control of his morphine pump. Because of this, he found his voice again.

Radiation, chemotherapy, and countless hospital visits became the new normal. Through it all, Haakyn’s light shone brightly. He turned treatments into competitions, timing nurses to see how fast they could administer his medicine. Even during blood transfusions, he joked that he had received LeBron James’s blood, believing it made him dunk better on the mini basketball hoop in the hospital.

The financial and emotional implications weighed on the family. Ryan, a pilot, stopped working to be home with Haakyn, while Tory worked full-time from home.

“I was in no place to work and I needed to help out with Haakyn, and all of a sudden paychecks stop. We are the kind of people who think, we got this, we don’t need any help,” Ryan said. “There are people who ask if we need anything, and then there are people who just step in and just help. So, when you find yourself getting behind on bills and then somebody like Pinky Swear just shows up, you realize well, we needed help.”

Bills piled up, and everyday life became a delicate balance of survival and care. But they weren’t alone. That’s when Pinky Swear Foundation stepped in.

“At one point we were paying $7000 for medication that wasn’t covered by our insurance. We have pretty good jobs and that’s why we didn’t feel that we were the kind of people that need help. But when it came to medicine and food, we were paying crazy prices that were more than my paycheck. So even if I had been working, we wouldn’t have been able to survive financially through that,” Ryan said.

Things like Haakyn’s feeding tube were covered by insurance, but the formula wasn’t. The formula was another piece of the puzzle keeping him alive. “It was the only thing that put weight on him. We thought we were going to lose him to weight over cancer,” Ryan said.

Tory and Ryan vividly remember the day they received the Orange Envelope, filled with a gas and grocery gift card. It was more than financial help; it was a lifeline that allowed them to focus on Haakyn’s recovery.

“Being able to go to the gas station and pull out a gift card to pay for your gas or groceries at the grocery store is one less thing you have to worry about. It’s huge,” Tory said.

The foundation paid their mortgage, giving them 30 days of relief to concentrate on what truly mattered—their son.

“When you have a kid with cancer you are so hyper-focused on how to get them better and everything else in life just feels secondary, but you still need to buy groceries, you need to buy gas and get your other kids to places, and keep them entertained,” Tory said.

Looking back, Tory and Ryan are filled with gratitude—not just for Haakyn’s resilience, but for the kindness of strangers who stepped in when they needed it most. They learned to accept help, to lean on others, and to embrace the generosity that allowed them to focus on their family. Today, Haakyn is thriving. He still loves basketball and wants to be a professional player someday so he can go around to the kids in the hospital and make their day.

For families facing similar battles, Tory has one message: “Swallow your pride and take the help. You need it. And for those who can give, don’t ask—just give. You have no idea the impact it makes.”