A cough is the kind of thing you shrug off. A little allergy season, maybe a lingering cold.
For James Barber, it was the first quiet sign of something far more serious. The 13-year-old was still playing dodgeball and lifting weights when doctors discovered a tumor wrapped around his trachea, pressing against his heart and squeezing one lung until it had shrunk to the size of a grape.
That evening, James and his parents, Rebecca and Stephen, heard the word no family is ever ready for: cancer.
“I couldn’t really tell that it was that bad,” James remembers. “I was still acting normal.”
That quiet strength is the kind that keeps a kid moving forward even when his own body is sounding the alarm.
From Cough to Diagnosis
Looking back, the signs were there, hidden in plain sight. James loves to lift weights, and he’d noticed his bench press getting harder after dropping off from 75 pounds. He figured he was just out of shape.
“It helps when you can breathe,” he says now, with the kind of dry humor that is his signature.
An X-ray changed everything. That night, James was admitted. The next day, he had surgery to drain the fluid pressing on his lungs: first two liters, then another liter later. The diagnosis was Stage 2 Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Comfort in the Middle of Shock
For Rebecca, the moment split life into before and after. “When we were told it’s cancer, it was pretty life-altering,” she says. “Shocking.”
But something else took hold in those first frightening hours, too. Kindness. The team at FMOL Health | Our Lady of the Lake Children’s Hospital met the family with a gentleness that softened the hardest news of their lives.
“They were very comforting,” Rebecca says. “It made the stressful process a little more calm and less scary.”
At our children’s hospital, James could receive world-class care close to home, surrounded by the people who love him most. For a tight-knit, homeschooling family used to doing everything together, that nearness has been everything.
“It’s such a blessing that it’s so close,” Rebecca says. The family lives in Denham Springs, a short drive away. On treatment days, she jokes, they “clock in for a shift,” 7 to 4, and head home to the other kids.
People Who Make Hard Days Lighter
Ask James about his care team, and the stories come easily.
There’s Sakshi Bami, MD, his oncologist, whose calm presence has steadied the family through every step. “She’s so comforting throughout the process,” Rebecca says.
“The entire team, from the people who check us in to the nursing team on the outpatient side, has been very kind and supportive,” Rebecca says. “We really appreciate everything they have done to take care of James when we come in for his appointments.”
There’s the night nurse who worked that first weekend and made James laugh so hard he started calling himself “Bob,” a nickname the whole floor happily adopted. There’s a day nurse who became a fast favorite.
And then there are the plastic hands.
During one of his inpatient stays, James came armed with fake hands to prank the nurses when they came to check his pulse. It’s the kind of mischief that reveals who he really is: a kid who refuses to let cancer steal his sense of humor.
That humor even showed up in one of the scariest moments of his journey. During his first chemo treatment, James went into anaphylactic shock from a nausea medication. The team came running, and Jeff Deyo, MD, PhD, on call that day, jumped in.
When James could finally breathe again, his verdict was pure James: “On the bright side, I got to meet everyone on the floor.”
Faith That Carries the Family
The Barbers lean on a deep, living faith. James’ grandfather Gordon Atwell pastors their congregation, Faith Family Church, and Scripture is a daily anchor. James and his mom read and study together, holding tight to the promise that “by His stripes we are healed”.
“This is a terrible thing to go through,” Rebecca says. “We trust that God will bring full healing and a full rest of his life.”
They aren’t walking alone. Rebecca is one of eight siblings, all living nearby, and the family has rallied. Her sister Rosie, a licensed counselor, helped the family gently explain the diagnosis to James’ younger siblings, Eric, 11, and Hailey, 8.
Grandparents take James’ siblings on trips during chemo weeks. The homeschool co-op stepped up in a big way, filling the freezer with meals so no one has to think about cooking on treatment days. Neighbors brought groceries. A best friend’s mom watches the little ones.
And the prayers have reached far beyond Louisiana. Friends who’ve moved as far away as Japan check in, lifting James up from across the world.
“It’s really nice to see how many people care,” James says.
A Brother with a Bell
Some of the sweetest moments have come from home.
When James returned after 12 days in the hospital and two surgeries, he was weak. Hailey had an idea. She wanted to get him a bell he could ring whenever he needed anything, promising to come running. What sibling wouldn’t want a sister on call?
Eric is who James most looks forward to getting back to. The two used to wrestle and roughhouse constantly, and James can’t wait for the day that’s possible again.
Through it all, James has been remarkably selfless. He encouraged his family to keep using their water park season passes so his siblings wouldn’t miss out, even as he sat out the summer before high school, watching friends move forward while he had to slow down.
“It’s been sad and hard, but he hasn’t stopped,” Rebecca says. “I really admire him for being so selfless while everyone else kept going.”
Keeping Life as Normal as Possible
James is a ninth-grader who’s about to turn 14. He loves skill toys like Rubik’s cubes, yo-yos and butterfly knives, and he’s a devoted gamer. Aunts and uncles pitched in to buy him a PlayStation so he could keep gaming with friends and family, even on the days he stays isolated to protect his immune system.
He’s also stayed on top of his schoolwork, bringing Algebra 2 into the chemo room so he wouldn’t fall behind. He’s part of a Trail Life USA troop, a scouting-style group run by his dad and a friend, where he camps, earns badges and stays connected.
Our children’s hospital has helped keep his world feeling like his own, too. A child life specialist walked him through the port process when everything felt strange and overwhelming. A monthly teen group gives kids on similar journeys space to just be kids, playing Jenga and trivia together.
Even his after-hours worries have been met with reassurance. The couple of times the family called in with a high fever or racing heart, the on-call oncologist answered directly.
“It gives us peace of mind,” Rebecca says. “You don’t have to stay up all night worrying and watching vitals.”
One Memorable ‘Surgeon’
The Barbers bleed purple and gold. Years ago, they painted the boys’ room in LSU colors and decked it out in Tigers décor. So, it felt fitting when, on the day James got his port placed, Rebecca and Stephen spotted Mike the Tiger walking by in a lab coat.
They snapped a photo and, with James still groggy from his pain medication, told him Mike had done the surgery himself. He’s still not entirely convinced they were joking.
Now James is gearing up for one of his biggest thrills yet: walking onto the field at the game.
On September 12, James will be recognized as an FMOL Health | Our Lady of the Lake Geaux Hero during the LSU Football game against Louisiana Tech, celebrating his courage and resilience.
“I’m really excited to go to the game,” he says. Rebecca calls the thought of it “surreal.”
Before the season, James and his family were able to help paint the Eye of the Tiger, giving James another memory connected to a team and tradition he loves.
Looking Ahead
James is nearing the finish of his chemo, starting his fifth of six cycles. After that comes radiation. Through it all, he’s tolerated treatment surprisingly well, with few lasting side effects beyond some fatigue and dry eyes.
For Rebecca, her message to any family just beginning this journey is simple and hard-won.
“Take a deep breath, pray and have faith,” she says. “It felt extremely scary at first, not knowing how serious it was. But slow down, focus on your child and have some faith. Everything calms down, and you can see a light at the end of the tunnel. Ask for help. Anything we’ve needed, the hospital has been there for us.”
James is looking ahead, too, toward a full and ordinary life. His journey shows that heroism is rooted in quiet resilience, a relentless hope and a spirit that finds laughter even in the hardest moments.
