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Funds go directly to Luly's care, starting with the wheelchair-accessible van she still doesn't have — the one thing that would get her out of the house and back into her daughter's world.
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A mother, and the one who took care of everyone. Now she needs us.
She was diagnosed in July 2025, after almost two years of tests and unanswered questions — her daughter was one when the first symptoms appeared. The disease is moving quickly. This is her story, and an invitation to help while help counts for the most.
Before any of this, Luly was the one who took care of everybody else. Her friends called her the mom of the group — the one who checked that people had eaten, who kept everyone together, who worried about the rest of us long before she worried about herself. She loved music. She loved a house full of people. And she was always the one behind the camera: most of the photographs her friends have from those years exist because Luly took them.
Before the diagnosis, Luly, Ricky, and their daughter lived in Orlando. Nearly all of Ricky's work was travel work — and as Luly began falling more often, he had to stop taking those jobs. For the most part, he has stopped working altogether. After the diagnosis, they moved into Luly's mother's home in Miami. No one person could manage Luly's care and their daughter's needs alone, and the house offered both family support and a place that could change with her. Her mother gave Luly the master bedroom and has been adapting the house around what she needs.
Her ALS has now progressed to the point where Luly relies on a power wheelchair, has the use of only one arm, and her voice is becoming harder to understand. Getting out of bed, going to the bathroom, and nearly everything else needs someone's help. Even getting into a regular car takes a long time, so leaving the house at all — an appointment, her daughter's school event — has to be planned. Ricky, her mother, and other family members are there for all of it.
She still gets the last kiss goodnight.
ALS does not pause. What Luly needs, she needs now.
ALS has taken away a lot, but it has not taken away being her mom. I want as much time with my daughter and my family as this life will give me.
ALS is a progressive disease in which the brain loses its connection to the muscles. One by one, it takes away:
There is still no cure.
Sources: ALS Association — What Is ALS? · CDC, MMWR 2017;66:1379–1382 · ALS Association — Understanding ALS
The moments that matter — the good ones and the hard ones. Tap any photo to see it full size.
Luly was born and raised in Miami, where she became the caring, dependable friend her loved ones know today.
Luly and Ricky's daughter is born, bringing joy and a new chapter in their lives.
A fall in August — the kind of thing that happens to anyone. By October, foot drop and weakness in her leg. Without health insurance, she put off seeing a doctor.
A Miami neurologist runs MRIs, blood work, and EMG nerve testing. Everything comes back negative, and her symptoms are put down to post-COVID neuropathy. Over the year the falls become routine — sometimes several in a day — and she begins using a cane. Four months of physical therapy bring no improvement.
At a follow-up for something entirely unrelated, her dermatologist sees how far her walking has deteriorated and notices the drop foot in her left leg. She tells Luly not to accept the answer she has been given — and to get to Mayo.
A neurologist orders a fresh battery of tests. There is no single test for ALS — it is diagnosed only once everything else has been ruled out.
Almost two years after the fall, Luly is diagnosed with ALS. The CDC puts the typical wait at nine to twelve months. Hers took closer to twenty-three.
Luly begins treatment at the University of Miami ALS Clinic — a multidisciplinary team covering neurology, respiratory care, nutrition, and physical therapy in one place.
Her friends put their money together and rented Luly a wheelchair-accessible van. For seven days she could leave the house whenever she wanted. Then the rental ended and the van went back. Her friends are still here and still helping — getting Luly a van of her own is the part we can't do alone.
Team Maria walked for Luly and finished as one of the event's top fundraising teams, raising $8,292 for the ALS Association.
Walk to Defeat ALS MiamiDuring MAD at ALS night, the Marlins recognised Luly and her family on the big screen — and a private donor presented a $2,500 donation.
Luly still has no van of her own. The wheelchair, the ramps and her mother's house cover the hours she spends at home; getting her out of it is the part still missing. Her friends have carried this as far as friends can.
Every one of these matters. Not all of them cost anything.
Funds go directly to Luly's care, starting with the wheelchair-accessible van she still doesn't have — the one thing that would get her out of the house and back into her daughter's world.
Donating soonOne share can reach someone with the means to change this family's year. It costs nothing and it works.
ShareJournalists, organizations, and anyone able to help at scale — please get in touch directly.
Get in touchThe fundraiser page is being set up. In the meantime, sharing her story helps just as much.
Every dollar goes to Luly's care and to keeping her family steady. Here is what that actually means.
A wheelchair-accessible van with a ramp and securement. Without one, getting Luly into a regular car takes so long that a doctor's appointment or her daughter's school event can eat half a day — so most days, she just stays home. Not a new van; a good used conversion, which is what makes this reachable.
A hospital bed, a transfer lift, bathroom access, ramps and doorway work — the equipment that makes her own home usable.
Paid caregiving hours. Luly's mother does most of it through the day; Ricky carries the rest. Professional help means they get to rest — and it means Luly is never left waiting.
Physical and aquatic therapy, and the equipment to make it possible at home. Water takes the weight off joints that no longer support her — it is treatment, not recreation.
Copays, medications, supplies, and the travel to clinics in Miami and at Mayo. ALS care is constant, and coverage is not.
ALS took Luly's ability to work before it took anything else. Ricky's travel work had to stop too. Rent and bills did not pause. Neither did her daughter's life.
Childcare, counselling, and the ordinary childhood things that shouldn't have to stop — and something put aside for her future.
We won't pretend this is the whole picture. Care for someone with ALS runs into the hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years ahead, and we don't have all of those answers yet. We are not asking for that today. We are asking for the van, and for whatever comes after it.
Team Gleason has already provided Luly's power wheelchair and the ramps at her home, which changed her daily life. We're grateful to them, and we'd encourage anyone who wants to help families living with ALS to look at their work.
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Luly is my wife Brooke's best friend, and Ricky is mine. She officiated our wedding. Our daughters are inseparable, and long before any of us had children we were already a family. Luly spent years looking after all of us — this is us looking after her.
— Myles & Brooke