A particular sound can change everything for a parent, and it is not the cry of a newborn or the first laugh or even the long-awaited word “mama.” For one father in New Jersey, it was the moment he heard doctors say, “His numbers are going up.” In that instant, his son was not just fighting cancer, he was killing cancer.
Kristian, the youngest of four children, came into the world with a little extra, Trisomy 21, better known as Down Syndrome. He spent his first days in the NICU, tiny and fragile, but already teaching his parents what strength looked like. Over time, doctors kept close watch because his blood work showed low platelets. They warned his parents that leukemia was a possibility down the road. No one imagined that road would arrive so quickly.
On June 19th, the day that was supposed to be the start of summer fun for the family, life turned upside down. Kristian had been scheduled for a checkup at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, and instead of ice cream cones and a trip to the park, his parents were told he had leukemia. Not just any leukemia, but AMKL, the type most often linked with Down Syndrome. The father, a choreographer and dance studio owner, remembers going into what he called “quarterback mode.” His wife wept, the weight of the news too much to hold, while he stood steady, circling the family around Kristian’s hospital bed like a coach huddling a team. They prayed, cried, and decided together that the plan would be to keep fighting.
But fighting cancer is not just about medicine. It is about money, meals, childcare for the siblings waiting at home, and the endless toll of travel back and forth from hospital to house. Within days they had spent more than $600 just trying to juggle food, gas, and clothes. The father realized quickly that this battle would need community. He designed shirts that read #FIGHTKRISTIAN, and the sales became a lifeline to keep their studio and family afloat.
Still, hospital walls are heavy. After a week inside them, the father needed air, movement, and the thing that had always kept him sane: dance. So he danced in his son’s hospital room. He filmed it, not for fame, but to bring joy to a boy with chemo running through his veins. Kristian’s smile said everything. What happened next was a surprise. The video spread. By the next day it had almost a million views. Ciara herself saw it, shared it, and the family’s story began to ripple far beyond Philadelphia.
Even so, the real victory was not online. It was in the blood counts. For days the family waited for his ANC levels to climb. Doctors told them he needed to “level up” to 200 to be allowed home for a week. Thirty-two days passed in waiting, praying, watching numbers rise and fall like tides. Then one morning at 7:45, the doctors came in with the news: 170 and climbing. Enough to go home. Enough to breathe in normal air and tuck their other children into bed. Enough to celebrate. The father heard Ciara’s song Level Up on that same day, and it became an anthem. He danced again, this time celebrating that his son’s body was not just enduring chemo, but truly killing cancer. The phrase stuck. Every time those numbers moved higher, every time his body fought back, the family shouted it: “Kristian is leveling up!”
This is what killing cancer looks like. Not just in lab reports or treatments, but in families who refuse to fall apart. In siblings who wait patiently while mom and dad split time between home and hospital. In friends who step in with meals, hugs, and a few extra dollars for gas. Fathers who refuse to disappear when life gets hard, instead, choose to dance beside their child’s hospital bed. The father hopes other men are watching. He wants them to see that being strong does not mean being silent, it means showing up even when you want to run. It means choosing prayer over panic, laughter over despair, and leadership over escape.
The story of Kristian is still unfolding. There will be more hospital stays, more waiting, more prayers for those numbers to keep climbing. But every time they do, every time his levels up, it is a victory worth celebrating. Because for this little boy and his family, leveling up means more than just numbers on a chart. It means he is killing cancer, one day at a time.
