I am 22 years old, living with stage IV cancer, receiving treatment in a children’s hospital. It’s a strange place to exist- old enough to fully understand what is happening to me, but often in an environment where it’s easy to be treated younger than I am. No one ever intends harm by it. It’s just the nature of the setting. But over time, that subtle shift can make you feel smaller than you are. Sam has never made me feel small. From the beginning, she has spoken to me not just as a patient, not just as a person, but as a peer. Like a friend. There is a sincerity in the way she engages with me that feels equal. She doesn’t talk down to me. She meets me exactly where I stand- as a 22-year-old man walking through something unimaginably heavy.

When you’re facing something this serious, so much is taken from you. Your body changes. Your plans change. Your sense of control shifts. It becomes incredibly easy to feel reduced to a diagnosis or a room number. The way someone treats you in those moments matters more than they may ever realize. Sam protects the humanity of the people she treats. She makes me feel seen. She makes me feel respected. In the midst of pain, fear, and exhaustion, she reminds me, simply through the way she carries herself, that I am still myself. Her smile is genuinely infectious. It shifts the entire atmosphere of the room. On days that feel impossibly heavy, when everything in me is tired, her smile brings light with it. It isn’t forced. It isn’t rehearsed. It’s real. And that authenticity makes all the difference. There are nurses who do their job well. And then there are nurses who change how it feels to survive something like this. Sam is the latter. She doesn’t just provide care. She preserves dignity. She respects humanity. And in a season where that means everything, she has made an impact on my life that I will never forget. If ever there was a person deserving of this award, it would be Sam.