NFL reporter confirms passing of 2-year-old daughter after cancer diagnosis

Reporter for the NFL Doug Kyed disclosed that his daughter, who was two years old, died nine months after receiving a devastating diagnosis of leukemia.

Little Hallie Kyed reportedly suffered the devastating blow in April 2023. Doug, her father and a Boston Herald employee, announced on Instagram that his daughter had lost her battle in January 2021.

After Hallie underwent a bone marrow transplant and relapsed, Kyed disclosed that things had become worse.

Doug writes, “On Sunday morning, while Jen and I were holding her hands in bed, Hallie passed away peacefully in her sleep.””Without Hallie, we’re sad and totally lost. Never again will our lives be the same.

Doug stated in a letter after Hallie’s relapse that the family was making an effort to maintain optimism in spite of the clear challenges facing his daughter.

The reporter stated at the time, “I’m choosing to stay positive.”

“Hallie has overcome every challenge that AML has set in her path thus far. This will undoubtedly be her hardest test yet, but our spirited little Hallie Bear is more than capable of taking it on.

Nevertheless, Doug acknowledged that “we held out hope for remission because of how brave, strong, and resilient Hallie had been through her entire nine-month battle with acute myeloid leukemia and all of its complications,” adding that “the whole family spent special time at the hospital last week.” Doug added, “Knowing the prognosis was poor when she relapsed after her bone marrow transplant.”

Acute myeloid leukemia, according to the American Cancer Society, begins in the bone marrow and swiftly spreads to the blood. After that, it may spread to the central nervous system, liver, spleen, and lymph nodes.

Doug told the Boston Herald that since his daughter’s diagnosis last year, he had spent over half of his nights at Boston’s Children Hospital.

He clarified, “My wife and I have alternated between taking care of Hallie and our 5-year-old, Olivia, at home.

Jen, Doug’s wife, on the other hand, said that losing her daughter left a void in her heart.

Jen Kyed said, “There is an enormous hole in my heart, and the pain is unbearable.” “I’ll never be able to comprehend how or why something so terrible could occur.”

I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives

My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.

One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.

The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.

While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.

I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.

Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.

After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.

The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.

Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.

Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.

The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.

Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.

As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.

In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.

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