September Has Come Again: A Golden Call to Action

September is here once more—a month wrapped in gold ribbons, a month of reflection, remembrance, and resolve. It’s a time when the world briefly pauses to acknowledge a reality we live with every single day: that too many children, who should be laughing on playgrounds and dreaming freely, are instead confined to hospital rooms, fighting for their lives.

Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month is not just a campaign or a social media trend. For those of us who live inside this world, it’s not a moment—it’s a lifetime. It is every day, every hour, every heartbeat.

Where My Journey Began

For me, this journey started 23 years ago when my mother was diagnosed with Ewing Sarcoma. Though it's typically labeled a “childhood cancer,” she was an adult at the time of her diagnosis. That didn’t make it any less cruel. Her illness shattered the foundation of my world and forced me to grow up fast. It redefined who I was and who I would become.

From that moment forward, my life has been tethered to a promise: to fight for children with cancer. Whether it’s through raising funds for research, spreading awareness, advocating for families, or simply bringing light into the darkest of hospital rooms, I have poured my entire being into this mission. And I always will.

The Face of the Fight: Tessa

If you know me, you know Tessa.

She wasn’t just another patient, another case, or a passing story. Tessa was family. She was joy in its purest form. She radiated a kind of resilience and love that left a lasting impression on every life she touched. Her spirit was unstoppable. Her laugh contagious. Her courage undeniable.

Tessa fought with a fierce heart, every single day. And though her body eventually could not go on, her spirit never surrendered.

Her loss... it carved something permanent into me. There is a moment I will never forget—one of those life-altering images burned into the soul. I remember watching her cling to life with every ounce of strength she had. And I remember the helplessness of watching that life be stolen—not by fate, but by a disease that continues to be drastically underfunded and often overlooked.

Tessa’s death was more than a personal tragedy—it was a call to arms. She loved Whip Pediatric Cancer, and in her honor, I made a vow: to keep her legacy alive, to carry her fight forward, and to ensure her light never fades.

A Decade of Loss—and Love

In the last 10 years, I’ve held the hands of more children than I can count. I’ve said goodbye more times than anyone should. Each child, each soul, leaves behind a scar that doesn’t heal. These are not numbers. They are children. Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, dreamers, dancers, artists, future doctors and teachers and superheroes.

Every time I lose one, a piece of me goes with them. And yet, with every goodbye, my resolve grows stronger. Because this heartbreak isn’t inevitable—it’s a direct result of inaction.

No parent should ever have to choose between hope and reality. No family should be told there’s nothing left to try. And no child should ever have to die because we, as a society, didn’t care enough to fund the cure.

The Unspoken Truth About Funding

Here’s what most people don’t know—or don’t want to believe: Pediatric cancer research receives less than 4% of national cancer funding. That means the treatments available to children today are often decades old, toxic, and inadequate. It means that innovative treatments and potential cures are delayed or denied altogether because the money simply isn’t there.

Children are not dying because we can’t find cures. They’re dying because we don’t invest enough to.

This is not just about science. It’s about fairness. It’s about dignity. It’s about choosing to value young lives as much as we value any other.

What You Can Do

So, this September, I am asking—begging—you to take action. It doesn’t have to be big. But it does have to be something.

• Wear gold and tell people why.

• Donate to organizations funding pediatric cancer research and supporting affected families.

• Host a fundraiser—at school, at work, in your community.

• Write letters to lawmakers demanding increased funding.

• Send care packages to children in treatment.

• Share real stories—because stories spark empathy, and empathy fuels change.

Every act of kindness, every dollar donated, every voice raised—these create ripples that go further than you can imagine. They bring light into hospital rooms. They give hope to grieving families. They save lives.

Why I Keep Fighting

Despite everything—the heartbreak, the funerals, the sleepless nights haunted by memories—I’m still here. Still fighting. Still believing in a future where no child has to suffer like Tessa did.

Because her life was a gift. Her love for living, her joy, her strength—they deserve to be remembered in action, not just in memory.

I carry her with me, and I carry the names and faces of every child I’ve met on this journey. I will fight for them until there’s no longer a need to.

This September—and Every Month After

September is here. The gold ribbons are out. But for these children, the battle doesn’t end when the calendar turns. And neither should our efforts.

Please, don’t let this month pass without doing something.

For Tessa. For every child we've lost. For every child still fighting. For a future where childhood cancer doesn’t steal another life.

Let this September be the one where we turn awareness into action—and action into change.