There are no visible scars. A nearly hairless head that's usually covered by a floppy denim hat and the surgical mask she wears in crowds are the only signs that something may be different.
Nothing in Ticynn London's behavior indicates she is anything other than a normal 7-year-old who dotes on her baby sister, forgets to clean her room and sings along to Sesame Street.
You wouldn't know that she responded to the transplant as if the very breath of life had touched her, that she recovered so quickly she was allowed to return home a full month before the prescribed release date.
You wouldn't know that a small child who suffered with the most pedestrian of illnesses could teach the grown-ups around her about courage.
You wouldn't know that her father, the University of Virginia assistant football coach who has spent most of his adult life around the fittest and strongest young men, looks at his 4-foot, 66-pound daughter with a combination of love and awe so overwhelming that it sometimes brings tears to his eyes.
"She's my inspiration," Mike London said. "That's the gospel truth."
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Mike and Regina London decided that if their first child was a boy, they were going to name him Tyson. They hadn't picked out a girl's name, but a friend of Regina's suggested that they didn't have to change the name, only the spelling.
Mike London, a former Bethel High and University of Richmond standout player, was working as an assistant coach at Richmond at the time, his second stint with the Spiders sandwiched around a three-year gig at William and Mary.
Regina London, a Newport News native who worked at a local bank at the time, felt fine during her pregnancy. Her unborn child, however, wasn't gaining weight. Doctors prescribed bed rest and oxygen for Regina, simply to give the baby the best possible environment for growth.
Despite the measures, doctors delivered Ticynn London five weeks early, on Nov. 9, 1995, believing she would do better outside the womb. She weighed just 4 pounds, 12 ounces. Curiously, her left thumb was simply a fold of skin and did not have a bone.
One year later, Mike and Regina and Ticynn headed north to Massachusetts, where he had gotten a job with new Boston College head coach Tom O'Brien, a longtime University of Virginia assistant. The combination of a major college football program and the superior medical facilities in the Boston area were too attractive to pass up.
Ticynn grew and progressed, if a little slowly. She bruised easily and had small patches of slightly discolored skin, what doctors refer to as cafe au lait spots. Colds and other childhood illnesses lingered longer than normal. When she was 2, doctors performed surgery to move her index finger over to act as a thumb-like, opposing digit.
The Londons suspected that their daughter had some kind of chronic condition, but doctors were unable to pinpoint it.
In January 2000, at age 4, Ticynn caught a cold that she couldn't shake. Regina London took her to doctors and the local hospital, Newton Wellesley, several times. Doctors discovered that several of her blood counts were low. There were whispers of leukemia, she said.
Ticynn was transferred to Children's Hospital in Boston. Within 90 minutes, Regina began hearing the term that would forever change her daughter and family.
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Fanconi anemia is a rare genetic disorder often characterized by bone marrow deficiencies. Dr. Gary Kupfer, a pediatric oncologist and hematologist at the University of Virginia Medical Center and Ticynn's physician, estimated that there are between 500 and 1,000 cases nationwide and several thousand worldwide.