We first met Tori during my daughter's very first week of induction. She was six years old, newly diagnosed, newly hospitalized, and struggling deeply with the loss of autonomy she had worked so hard to earn in her short life.

After two nights with a kind male nurse, she was delighted when Tori walked in during evening wipe-down, singing along to the Taylor Swift song we had playing on a small Beats speaker. That moment mattered more than Tori could have known.

She was having an incredibly difficult time adjusting to life in the hospital and life as a patient. Tori immediately saw her independence and joie de vivre, and she met her exactly where she was, not as a cancer patient, but as a whole child who happened to be fighting cancer.

From the moment Tori entered the room singing, she felt safe. And from that moment on, Tori became one of her people.

That first night, our daughter was taking her evening pills in the bathtub, which felt like the only place she had any control left. She was anxious about the volume of pills and the moment itself. Without hesitation, Tori sat down on the bathroom floor at her level and began talking with her. Not talking at her, but with her. About her interests, her questions, her fears.

To this day, Tori is one of only a handful of people she will actively speak to. That first night was no exception. Tori earned her trust not through medical expertise alone, but through the sacred act of truly seeing her.

Of her nine hospitalizations so far, I believe only two have not included Tori. She has been a steady, grounding presence through some of our most frightening moments and some of her brightest.

Tori has managed drug reactions by calmly talking her through each step, giving her agency whenever possible, and grounding her with the steady reassurance of her voice. When she was critically ill, including MSSA bacteremia and, more recently, pneumococcal pneumonia with fevers climbing into the 104s for days on end, Tori's entrance into the room each night brought immediate relief.

Her presence changed the energy of the room. There was light, calm, and trust. There was hope.

But Tori doesn't just show up for the hard moments. She also brings joy. She celebrates her wins, the good blood counts, the successful procedures, the nights without fever. She notices when she has a new stuffed animal or has finished a challenging puzzle.

She remembers what she cares about and asks about those things, not just her symptoms. In the midst of a grueling treatment protocol, Tori reminds us that there is still room for delight.

My daughter also firmly believes that Tori is magic. She cannot understand how, when Tori is her nurse, vitals, blood cultures, labs, infusions, and everything in between somehow happen without ever fully waking her up.

For a child whose sleep is so often interrupted, this alone feels miraculous. When she wakes in the morning and asks, "Was Tori here?" and I say yes, she smiles because she slept through the night, held and cared for by someone she trusts completely.

Tori exemplifies everything a DAISY Award nurse represents. She provides extraordinary compassionate care, builds deep trust with patients and families, communicates with clarity and empathy, and consistently goes above and beyond her assigned role, not because she has to, but because she is called to.

During a recent admission, there was a discrepancy between a medication order entered by the PharmD and what was filled by the pharmacy. Tori had already stopped in to say hello, even though she was not assigned to her that night.

While I was discussing the issue with her assigned nurse and the resident on service, Tori overheard the conversation. Recognizing the complexity of the situation and the heavy caseloads that evening, Tori volunteered to take her case so she could personally monitor an intense transfusion throughout the night.

She didn't ask for permission. She didn't wait to be assigned. She simply stepped in because my daughter needed her.

This was not the first time Tori stepped in without being asked. During a previous midnight transfer from the emergency department to the floor, Tori also willingly took our case to ensure continuity, safety, and comfort. She has stayed late, come in early, and rearranged her schedule more times than I can count, all to be there for my daughter.

Of course, the transfusion went smoothly. More importantly, my daughter felt safe, known, and cared for in a way that cannot be charted. And I, as her mother, felt held too. Because Tori doesn't just care for my child, she cares for our entire family.

She has answered my questions with patience, validated my fears, and celebrated our victories alongside us. She has walked with us through this valley, and she has brought light into the darkness.

Tori's care extends far beyond clinical excellence. She sees the child before the diagnosis, honors their autonomy, and protects their sense of self during the most vulnerable moments of their lives. She brings laughter when we need it most. She brings calm when chaos threatens to overwhelm. She brings consistency when everything else feels uncertain.

For our family, Tori is not just an exceptional nurse. She is part of our story of resilience, healing, and trust.

She is a gift we will never forget. She is everything the DAISY Award stands for and so much more.