For my friend, Austin. When I was 6 years old, I met Austin. When I was 6 years old, I lost him. As a kindergartner, I had no idea what “brain cancer” meant. All I knew is that he was a kid the same as me, just with different abilities than I had. I would push his wheelchair in kickball, and afterwards we would sit inside together. We never talked much, but we had a connection I’d remember forever. When my mom sat me down at the kitchen table and told me he had passed away, I had no thoughts. No words. Just tears. How could my friend be gone? I had never experienced death before, let alone the death of someone I held so close to my heart. At his wake, I was the only person under the age of 18. I can still envision his SpongeBob blanket that tucked him in, and the drive I had to talk to him again. I have always carried the memory of Austin with me and I’ve always carried the drive to advocate and make a difference for him. He is the reason why I want to go into pediatric oncology. He is the reason why I chose where I would go to school. He is the reason why if I see someone who resembles him, I cry and share his story. Brain cancer might have taken a pause on Austin‘s story, but I am here to continue it. For the past 12 years, my career goals have been nothing less than that. When I was in high school, I knew that I needed to take school seriously so I could end up in the position to help others who experienced something similar to me and Austin. But with limited understanding of what that required, I didn’t take the measurable steps to make that change. He was always a topic of conversation when meeting new people, especially those who were in the hospital with me whenever I had mono. While I didn’t volunteer (and I know I should’ve), I did shadow work in pediatric oncology units and made connections with children who might’ve been experiencing something like Austin had. I also planned out every way in college that I could help make that change. In the spring of 2026 I will be volunteering and the pediatric oncology unit here at the University of Iowa. Making this a regular part of my week will not only be beneficial to me and my career plans, but also to the children who may feel alone. I can’t wait to hold their hand through the process. Getting this scholarship would do way more for me than just create a smaller amount to pay after I graduate. When searching for scholarships, I picked this one, and I picked it because of how much it resonated with me. An experience so unique to me, ended up being something that is shared among many students, families, and communities. The opportunities that I have for the future are not possible without my love for spreading awareness, and sharing that love with people like you. My plans for the future are to get into the nursing program here at the University of Iowa, to become a pediatric oncology nurse, and to carry out a life that I wish I could’ve shared with Austin. Pursuing a higher education does mean paying a higher price, but sharing that price with people of similar beliefs makes the end value infinite. I’m so excited to become everything 6 year old me planned to be.

When I say that I want to be a nurse, the first look I get says “of course you are.” Not because of my empathy, not because of my ability to care for others, but because I am a woman. The stigma around healthcare is that all women become nurses, because that’s what they’re meant to do. I’m here to prove that nursing is not something I want to do because I was “created” to do it. I want to become a nurse to share my story of loss, and to empower other women who may have experienced the same thing. When I was 6 years old, I met Austin. When I was 6 years old, I lost him. As a kindergartner, I had no idea what “brain cancer” meant. All I knew is that he was a kid the same as me, just with different abilities than I had. I would push his wheelchair in kickball, and afterwards we would sit inside together. We never talked much, but we had a connection I’d remember forever. When my mom sat me down at the kitchen table and told me he had passed away, I had no thoughts. No words. Just tears. How could my friend be gone? I had never experienced death before, let alone the death of someone I held so close to my heart. At his wake, I was the only person under the age of 18. I can still envision his SpongeBob blanket that tucked him in, and the drive I had to talk to him again. I have always carried the memory of Austin with me and I’ve always carried the drive to advocate and make a difference for him. He is the reason why I want to go into pediatric oncology. see, it is because of what I have lived through and how I coped that I want to become a nurse. It is because of the struggles that many other women have experienced that I want to become a nurse. Joining a career where I can share my life and work towards helping others while collaborating with other strong women is why I want to become a nurse. And through working with strong women (and men) who chose their careers and want to make a difference, I hope to be the kind of nurse who can provide care but also create comfort. I hope to be someone who helps families through their hardest times, and uplift them as I know how to uplift myself. In pediatric oncology, i want to be a bright light in places that are considered dim, and be a steady presence for my patients and fellow women to look up to.

Submitted via video link Disregard the essay, I had to meet word count When I was 6 years old, I met Austin. When I was 6 years old, I lost him. As a kindergartner, I had no idea what “brain cancer” meant. All I knew is that he was a kid the same as me, just with different abilities than I had. I would push his wheelchair in kickball, and afterwards we would sit inside together. We never talked much, but we had a connection I’d remember forever. When my mom sat me down at the kitchen table and told me he had passed away, I had no thoughts. No words. Just tears. How could my friend be gone? I had never experienced death before, let alone the death of someone I held so close to my heart. At his wake, I was the only person under the age of 18. I can still envision his SpongeBob blanket that tucked him in, and the drive I had to talk to him again. I have always carried the memory of Austin with me and I’ve always carried the drive to advocate and make a difference for him. He is the reason why I want to go into pediatric oncology. He is the reason why I chose where I would go to school. He is the reason why if I see someone who resembles him, I cry and share his story. Brain cancer might have taken a pause on Austin‘s story, but I am here to continue it. For the past 12 years, my career goals have been nothing less than that. When I was in high school, I knew that I needed to take school seriously so I could end up in the position to help others who experienced something similar to me and Austin. But with limited understanding of what that required, I didn’t take the measurable steps to make that change. He was always a topic of conversation when meeting new people, especially those who were in the hospital with me whenever I had mono. While I didn’t volunteer (and I know I should’ve), I did shadow work in pediatric oncology units and made connections with children who might’ve been experiencing something like Austin had. I also planned out every way in college that I could help make that change. In the spring of 2026 I will be volunteering and the pediatric oncology unit here at the University of Iowa. Making this a regular part of my week will not only be beneficial to me and my career plans, but also to the children who may feel alone. I can’t wait to hold their hand through the process. Getting the scholarship would do way more for me than just create a smaller amount to pay after I graduate. When searching for scholarships, I picked this one and I picked this one because of how much I resonated with it. An experience so unique to me, ended up being something that is shared among many students, families, and communities. The opportunities that I have for the future are not possible without my love for spreading awareness, and sharing that love with people like you. My plans for the future are to get into the nursing program here at the University of Iowa, to become a pediatric oncology nurse, and

What area of health science am I going into? Well, for a while it was all over the place, but it always resulted back down to nursing. Through all ups and downs deciding what I was going to major in or what job I'd like to have in the future, I knew what I truly wanted to do was to help people. I plan to become a pediatric oncology nurse, and spend my time caring for the children who just want life to return to playgrounds, sandboxes, and soccer fields instead of IVs, doctors offices, and breathing tubes. The reasoning behind what I want to do is simple. I know how it feels to lose someone to cancer, and I know how it feels to wish that there was something you could have done to help. When I was in elementary school my best friend passed away from brain cancer. He had struggled with it for as long as I knew him. But I didn't see him as a child with cancer, I saw him as my friend. I would push his wheelchair around all the bases when we played kickball. He was my friend and simple as that. When he passed away, I was the only kid in my class who attended his wake. I was so young and it was so hard to process such huge emotions like loss. I didn't know what it meant for him to just not be here anymore, and all I wanted to do was reverse it. It was heartbreaking. My dad could say the same thing. His best friend, Rich, passed away from colon cancer in 2016. It was the only time I had ever seen my dad cry. Rich was like an uncle to me, and his daughters were as close as cousins to me. It was hard on me as my fathers daughter, but it was even harder on my dad. Rich was the closest thing he had to a brother. When I am a pediatric oncology nurse, I plan to use my experiences as a way to guide my interactions and the way I care for my patients. The fear of losing someone is soul-crushing, but actually going through is almost incomprehensible. Because of this, I want to be more than just a medical care giver. I want to be a therapist, a friend, a source of comfort for those who don't know where to look. I aim to bring compassion and patience to every family I interact with because nobody deserves to go through the pain of having a sick child alone. I want to remind the children and families that they are not alone in their journey, and that I am here to take on the weight of their village if their backs give out and they can no longer carry it. I am planning on going into this study at the University of Iowa, and I will be applying for the nursing program in the spring of 2027. I cannot wait to carry out my purpose and be the helping hand I dreamed of being.

What area of health science am I going into? Well, for a while it was all over the place, but it always resulted back down to nursing. Through all ups and downs deciding what I was going to major in or what job I'd like to have in the future, I knew what I truly wanted to do was to help people. I plan to become a pediatric oncology nurse, and spend my time caring for the children who just want life to return to playgrounds, sandboxes, and soccer fields instead of IVs, doctors offices, and breathing tubes. The reasoning behind what I want to do is simple. I know how it feels to lose someone to cancer, and I know how it feels to wish that there was something you could have done to help. When I was in elementary school my best friend passed away from brain cancer. He had struggled with it for as long as I knew him. But I didn't see him as a child with cancer, I saw him as my friend. I would push his wheelchair around all the bases when we played kickball. He was my friend and simple as that. When he passed away, I was the only kid in my class who attended his wake. I was so young and it was so hard to process such huge emotions like loss. I didn't know what it meant for him to just not be here anymore, and all I wanted to do was reverse it. It was heartbreaking. My dad could say the same thing. His best friend, Rich, passed away from colon cancer in 2016. It was the only time I had ever seen my dad cry. Rich was like an uncle to me, and his daughters were as close as cousins to me. It was hard on me as my fathers daughter, but it was even harder on my dad. Rich was the closest thing he had to a brother. When I am a pediatric oncology nurse, I plan to use my experiences as a way to guide my interactions and the way I care for my patients. The fear of losing someone is soul-crushing, but actually going through is almost incomprehensible. Because of this, I want to be more than just a medical care giver. I want to be a therapist, a friend, a source of comfort for those who don't know where to look. I aim to bring compassion and patience to every family I interact with because nobody deserves to go through the pain of having a sick child alone. I want to remind the children and families that they are not alone in their journey, and that I am here to take on the weight of their village if their backs give out and they can no longer carry it. I am planning on going into this study at the University of Iowa, and I will be applying for the nursing program in the spring of 2027. I cannot wait to carry out my purpose and be the helping hand I dreamed of being.

What area of health science am I going into? Well, for a while it was all over the place, but it always resulted back down to nursing. Through all ups and downs deciding what I was going to major in or what job I'd like to have in the future, I knew what I truly wanted to do was to help people. I plan to become a pediatric oncology nurse, and spend my time caring for the children who just want life to return to playgrounds, sandboxes, and soccer fields instead of IVs, doctors offices, and breathing tubes. The reasoning behind what I want to do is simple. I know how it feels to lose someone to cancer, and I know how it feels to wish that there was something you could have done to help. When I was in elementary school my best friend passed away from brain cancer. He had struggled with it for as long as I knew him. But I didn't see him as a child with cancer, I saw him as my friend. I would push his wheelchair around all the bases when we played kickball. He was my friend and simple as that. When he passed away, I was the only kid in my class who attended his wake. I was so young and it was so hard to process such huge emotions like loss. I didn't know what it meant for him to just not be here anymore, and all I wanted to do was reverse it. It was heartbreaking. My dad could say the same thing. His best friend, Rich, passed away from colon cancer in 2016. It was the only time I had ever seen my dad cry. Rich was like an uncle to me, and his daughters were as close as cousins to me. It was hard on me as my fathers daughter, but it was even harder on my dad. Rich was the closest thing he had to a brother. When I am a pediatric oncology nurse, I plan to use my experiences as a way to guide my interactions and the way I care for my patients. The fear of losing someone is soul-crushing, but actually going through is almost incomprehensible. Because of this, I want to be more than just a medical care giver. I want to be a therapist, a friend, a source of comfort for those who don't know where to look. I aim to bring compassion and patience to every family I interact with because nobody deserves to go through the pain of having a sick child alone. I want to remind the children and families that they are not alone in their journey, and that I am here to take on the weight of their village if their backs give out and they can no longer carry it. I am planning on going into this study at the University of Iowa, and I will be applying for the nursing program in the spring of 2027. I cannot wait to carry out my purpose and be the helping hand I dreamed of being.

I don’t describe success as the typical highschool student. Success to me is not defined by what you can physically see, or an object you can hold. Success is defined by the feeling given to you when you accomplish a goal. There is no better feeling than the indescribable joy you get from accomplishment. This mindset sets me apart from my peers because it makes me work harder to feel something than grab something. In work, I’ve continually stayed late, helped customers, and interacted with my coworkers. Not to get an extra $20 on my paycheck, or to say that I did, but so prove to myself that I’m capable of dedicating time to something and hard work. I sleep well at night knowing how hard I push myself. I believe thinking this way will bring success to your life by realizing that not everything is materialistic, and that your goals will only be accomplished when YOU determine they are. Though this mindset, I’ve traveled from St. Louis to California for A competitive club in my school, made captain for my tennis team, and routinely been asked to return to volunteer work. I plan on applying this mindset everywhere in my life.

My journey toward a career in healthcare began with a profound experience in my childhood. When I was in kindergarten, my best friend died from brain cancer. It was a heartbreaking event that left a deep mark on me. From that moment, I knew I wanted to do something meaningful in the medical field. I have chosen to pursue a degree in nursing, with the goal of becoming a pediatric nurse oncologist, in memory of my friend. I also aim to eventually pursue a doctorate, as I believe that education and expertise can amplify my ability to make a difference. The loss of my friend has fueled my determination to help other children who are facing similar battles. Knowing that I might be able to save another little girl's best friend motivates me every day. I want to be the nurse who not only provides medical care but also offers comfort and hope to both patients and their families during incredibly difficult times. As a woman entering the healthcare field, I am eager to demonstrate the strength and resilience that women bring to this profession. Women have historically been the backbone of caregiving, and I believe our unique blend of compassion and determination is crucial in healthcare. I want to show how strong and tough girls can be, and how our empathy allows us to connect with patients on a deeper level. This connection can lead to better patient outcomes and a more supportive healthcare environment. In my studies, I have focused on building a strong foundation in nursing. I am committed to learning as much as I can about pediatric oncology to provide the best care possible. My high school GPA of 3.6 reflects my dedication to my studies, and I am excited to continue this journey as a rising college freshman majoring in nursing. I also recognize the importance of growth and continuous learning in healthcare. The field is always evolving, and I am committed to staying informed about the latest advancements and treatments. This commitment not only benefits my future patients but also allows me to contribute to the broader medical community. In summary, my decision to pursue a degree in healthcare is deeply personal and driven by a desire to make a positive impact. As a woman in healthcare, I hope to embody strength, empathy, and resilience. I want to inspire others and show that compassion is a powerful tool in healing. By becoming a pediatric nurse oncologist, I aim to honor my friend's memory and make a difference in the lives of children and their families. Thank you for considering my application for the Women in Healthcare Scholarship.