Community in the Infusion Room: Ford’s Story

When asked to describe her six-year-old son, Ford, in just one word, Allison’s answer is immediate: curious.  

Allison’s family at Christmas.

“He’s the type of kid who sees an adjustable standing desk and crawls underneath to study how it functions,” she said. “He’s our little engineer!”

In December 2022, during his end-of-year checkup, the pediatrician had concerns about the little engineer’s complexion. After discussing options, the pediatrician suggested bloodwork.  

Allison was driving home with her husband, Nathan, with a haul from Costco for Christmas dinner when the pediatrician called her and urged her to take Ford to the hospital. It was then that they received the surreal diagnosis:  

Leukemia. 

Ford had Leukemia, and the lives of the entire family were thrown into disarray. Christmas was spent in the hospital, and the two parents were trying to process everything.  

Treatment Begins

Ford sleeps beside his baby brother, Campbell.

The first phases of treatment were brutal, especially the steroids. “It can change a child’s personality entirely,” said Allison. “Ford would become irritable, irrational, and angry. Other times, he’d be so tired and withdrawn that he looked like a zombie. I had to trust that my son was still in there.”  

It’s a difficult thing for any parent to go through. As a mother, Allison felt powerless to protect her son from the pain, suffering, and fight he endured.  

“I could only be there with him and be present,” she explained. “And his siblings, too. No one can make Ford laugh like his big brother can. I watched my kids learn tough life lessons and make some of their own sacrifices to do anything we could to help Ford fight his illness.”  

And Ford did keep fighting. He progressed past the steroids stage and into delayed intensification, a concentrated stage of chemotherapy after his round proved promising.  

Ford and his brother in the infusion room at the hospital.

During the summer of 2023, Allison would bring Ford to weekly infusions at the hospital. Sometimes, the visits would be quick, just a few hours, and other times, it would be up to six or eight hours.  

“And for all the support of the community around us, there were times when the infusion room felt so lonely,” said Allison. “In that room, it would be so easy to be in a painful world all your own, mute with worry and fear, feeling like you’re battling alone.”  

Thankfully, Allison and Ford weren’t alone, though.  

“That’s how we met JoyRx,” Allison said.  

Meeting JoyRx Music

The first time the family met JoyRx Music Specialist Christy, she walked up to the two of them, guitar in hand, and asked if they wanted a song.  

It was as simple and transformative as that: one moment, they were alone — and the next, they were singing along with Christy.   

While Ford initially said that he didn’t want any music, Christy soon won him over with the Paw Patrol theme song. The giant room felt smaller and warmer when they were all singing along together, and Allison appreciated Christy’s enthusiasm, consistency, and graciousness. 

Tuesdays and Thursdays became their go-to days for appointments because it meant JoyRx would be in the infusion clinic. Christy was always punctual, touring through the infusion room and taking requests from the kids.  

“Going to a cancer clinic with your child draws up a weird mix of emotions,” said Allison. “On one hand, you’re so, so grateful it exists because your child is alive thanks to these drugs. But at the same time, you hate to pump your child’s body full of poison to keep him alive.”  

Ford listens to music from JoyRx Music Specialist Christy.

And yet, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, sitting and listening to music while on maternity leave with her fourth child while the second child received treatment, she often thought, “Wow, this is really lovely.”  

“And then I was like, ‘Where did that come from?’” Allison explained. “Here I was, thinking it all felt nice while my son was attached to an IV. But it was the truth: JoyRx helped make a horrible, unimaginable, painful experience into something better.” 

Ford and Allison would recount what Christy played for him the week before and plan out what he wanted the next week.  

“He was a man with a game plan,” Allison laughed. “He was ready to pitch a new song to Christy whenever she’d come by.” 

And Christy would even look up music and learn new chords to play his requests. It was an extra step that made a huge impact for Ford, who would often watch movies to get ideas. He’d listen to other kids’ requests from across the room. Ford would listen to a song, nod, and say, “I’ll ask for that song next week.”  

Music quickly became part of the family’s routine. In those long stretches waiting for the infusion, they’d have the timing down: time for a snack, time for an iPad, time for playtime.  

Time for music. Time for singing. Time for laughing and playing and enjoying life the way any kid should. Time for JoyRx.  

“With so much out of Ford’s control, I was glad he could have this,” Allison said. “He was the one to decide, choose, and engage.”  

Connecting with the World Again

Instead of being stuck in their own world, where nobody else could understand the pain, suddenly there was a new community all around them. Music let them cross that divide, that empty place where they felt entirely alone. It helped create connection.  

Because they weren’t alone. In the infusion clinic, there were other families. Even if the music specialists weren’t playing music for Ford, he and his mom could still hear others listening to the music.  

Ford on his first day of kindergarten.

It crossed even languages. There are many Spanish speakers in Allison’s community, so hearing Christy sing Spanish songs helped them connect with families when they might otherwise not have — finding that connection, that empathy, that community.  

“That community is what got us through,” she said.  

Today, Allison feels relief knowing that her son has reached a major milestone and has another on the horizon. In autumn 2024, Ford began kindergarten. And in March 2025, he will finish treatment.  

After everything their family has gone through, Allison takes nothing for granted. For her, the greatest treasure is getting to see her son be a kid.  

Ford practices the guitar, a instrument he plans to learn in the future.

“He pedals his bike down the driveway, wears goggles in the pool so much that there are perpetual rings around his eyes. He recently started piano lessons and is learning how music works,” Allison shared. “Our little engineer is hard at work learning.”  

And for Allison, seeing his inquisitive mind expand and grow as he takes in his world is a true joy.  

“Ford’s journey is a special one,” she said. “He is resilient, and we are so proud of him. As he continues to grow up, and make new memories with his friends and siblings, I want him to know that the fact that he was sick isn’t what will define him. It is his joy that will.”  

Allison and her family were recently honored guests at Wonderball Presents: Live From the Heart. Allison was one of our featured speakers and shared Ford’s story.