Parisa and Terrence walked into their pediatrician’s office with their six-month-old son, Rhys, expecting nothing unusual.
Just a routine well-baby visit.
Just a few vaccines, maybe some advice.
Just an ordinary morning.
But that morning became the turning point of their lives.
Dr. Ryan Mascio, at CHOP Primary Care in Bryn Mawr, smiled as he chatted with the parents. Then, as part of the exam, he gently pressed on Rhys’s tiny belly.
He paused.
Pressed again.
Something didn’t feel right. A lump. Firm. Unexpected.
The room grew heavy. Parisa noticed the change in the doctor’s expression. “What is it?” she asked, her heart racing.
Dr. Mascio spoke gently, but firmly. “I’d like you to take him for an ultrasound today. Let’s not wait.”
Hours later, the ultrasound revealed what no parent is ever ready to hear.
A tumor. Large. Growing on Rhys’s kidney.
Wilms tumor. Stage 1.
It hadn’t spread yet. But it was real. And it was cancer.
Parisa clutched Rhys against her chest. Terrence sat in stunned silence, his hand covering his face. “He’s just a baby…” he whispered.
Parisa kissed the top of Rhys’s head. “We’ll fight for you. Whatever it takes.”
Within days, they were at CHOP’s Cancer Center, meeting with Dr. Tracey F. Jubelirer. Words like “nephrectomy” and “lymph nodes” swirled through the air. It was overwhelming.
But time was critical.
By the end of the week, pediatric surgeon Dr. Peter Mattei performed the operation. He removed the entire left kidney. He removed nearby lymph nodes, just in case.
Parisa and Terrence waited outside the operating room, hearts pounding with every tick of the clock. Parisa whispered prayers under her breath. Terrence repeated, “Come on, little man, you’ve got this.”
When the surgery was over, relief hit them like a wave.
The tumor was out.
The cancer hadn’t spread.
Their baby was safe.
Parisa cried so hard she couldn’t speak. Terrence wrapped his arms around her. “He did it. Our boy did it.”
Four days later, Rhys was discharged. He smiled, tiny and brave, his future still ahead of him.
Incredibly, the family was even able to go on their long-planned trip to Europe just weeks after surgery. Baby Rhys traveled in his stroller, laughing, taking in the world like nothing had happened. For Parisa and Terrence, every small moment on that trip was a celebration.
No chemo.
No radiation.
Just follow-up scans every few months.
Now, Rhys returns regularly for ultrasounds and MRIs. Every appointment feels like holding their breath. Every “all clear” feels like a miracle.
Parisa looks at him playing on the floor, full of energy. “It still takes my breath away,” she says. “A routine checkup saved his life.”
Terrence nods. “If Dr. Mascio hadn’t noticed, I don’t even want to think about what could have happened. We were so lucky.”
Rhys’s story is a reminder that sometimes the smallest moments—the ordinary appointments, the doctors who take one extra step—are the ones that change everything.
A reminder that vigilance saves lives.
And that sometimes, the strongest fighters are the smallest ones.