On June 18th, we proudly recognized 40 remarkable young warriors at the 2025 Inspire Scholarship Ceremony. Since 2012, NNCCF has awarded over $1.1 million in scholarships to young adults who have battled childhood cancer, helping them pursue college or trade school and work toward a bright future.

The Inspire Scholarship Program not only provides financial support, but also encouragement and hope, reminding each recipient that their dreams are within reach. This year, we were thrilled to have Johnny as our keynote speaker, inspiring recipients and guests with his powerful story.

In January 2017, Johnny was 19 and just finishing his freshman year at Cal Poly when he was diagnosed with large B-Cell Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Johnny faced intensive chemotherapy, immunotherapy and many ER visits, and he did it all with a smile. Johnny received the Inspire Scholarship for many years. We’re proud to have walked beside him on this journey. Today, Johnny is an Architectural Designer. His dream is now reality.

But the truth was much more serious.

Eventually, after more scans and tests completed in Reno during my holiday break, I received an initial diagnosis: Stage IV Primary Mediastinal Diffuse Large B-Cell Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Quite a mouthful, right?

I’ll never forget that moment of diagnosis. I was sitting between my parents when my Primary Care Physician said the three words everyone in this room has heard said: You have cancer. In my recollection of that visit, everything went quiet. My ears started ringing. I could see my parents mouths moving, but I heard nothing. It was as if my whole body shut down to protect me from the weight of what I was hearing.

And when the full results came in, it was worse than I had imagined.

I had tumors on my lungs, kidneys, stomach, and pancreas; there was a blockage near my gallbladder; a large tumor sat behind my breastbone, pressing against my heart; one tumor had wrapped itself around my right femur; and, my lymph nodes were full of disease. My body had been in crisis—and I hadn’t even known how bad it was.

While attempting to recite a line I had heard in every movie where the main character is diagnosed with cancer, I asked for a second option — yet, I was told I didn’t have time. Treatment started right away. I began intensive chemotherapy and immunotherapy, including chemo in my spinal cord, and a full regimen of daily pills. I spent nearly a week at a time in the hospital for each chemo round—hooked up to a pump 24/7. I slept with it. I showered with it. It became a part of my existence.

At one point in my treatment just days after my 20th birthday, my blood pressure dropped so low I could barely stay conscious. My immune system crashed. Anyone who came into my hospital room had to wear a gown, gloves, and mask. At my lowest, I couldn’t even hold my mother’s hand. And the tears coming from my eyes were considered toxic with chemotherapy. In that moment, I had lost the innocence of someone my age. I was forced to grow up and face the hard truth of treatment. The realization was that I was a shell of the person I had once been. I was forced to enter a fight I never asked for.

And yes, at 20 years old, it was incredibly difficult to face one’s own mortality — a concept a young adult or child should never have to consider. But what haunted me most were the questions: Why do I have cancer? What did I do to develop this? Why now, when my life was just beginning?

In these dark moments, it was truly the people around me who kept me going. My nurses—who cared for me with both skill and compassion. And NNCCF, who stood by me and my family with resources, reassurance, and belief in my future when I couldn’t yet see it for myself. Those anchors helped me hold on.

And with that positivity, there was a noticeable shift in treatment.

During a scary ER visit between rounds of chemo, the doctors were checking for a suspected blood clot. But during a scan, they saw something else—my tumors were shrinking. The treatment was working. That moment gave me something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope with proof.

And once I had that, I ran with it. I am not going to sugar coat it and say the remainder of my treatment was a cakewalk, but a positive mental attitude made strides in my outcome.

And as soon as I finished my last round, rang the bell at NNCCF’s office and was cleared to live independently, I let my parents know one night at the dinner table that I booked a U-Haul to move back to my college town in San Luis Obispo. Once back, I spent time to re-establish my body and mind. I threw myself back into school. I studied abroad. I graduated. I started my career.

Cancer stripped me of so much—but it also gave me clarity. It removed my fear of failure. It removed my fear of trying new things. It removed the illusion that you have to wait until you’re “ready” to live boldly. Because the truth is: you’re never ready. You just go. You live.

But let me tell you something. As brutal as this experience is, the most profound part of the journey came after treatment—the part no one really prepares you for—when the scans come back clean, and suddenly, you’re not fighting for your life… but trying to figure out how to live it again.

Re-meeting yourself after cancer is complicated. It’s humbling. It’s brave. You’re not the same person you were before. And you’re not supposed to be.

For me, life after cancer became one of the most powerful chapters of my life. It became the foundation for everything that followed. It taught me how to live intentionally. How to stop wasting time on things—or people—that don’t serve my growth. How to chase dreams that terrify and thrill me at the same time. How to stop playing small.

And that’s what I want to emphasize today—not just living through cancer or surviving cancer, but becoming empowered by it.

To those of you receiving scholarships tonight: You are not just students. You are trailblazers. You are fighters. You have already faced something more difficult than most people can imagine, and you’ve emerged with a deeper understanding of resilience, of gratitude, of purpose.

Now, take that hard-earned wisdom and run with it.

Go get that degree. Travel the world. Start a business. Write the book. Fall in love. Dream audacious dreams. And don’t apologize for the person you’ve become.

But I also want to say this: You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Being a young adult who has experienced cancer doesn’t mean you have to be strong every single moment of every day. It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to feel anxious or lost or behind. You are healing. And healing is NOT linear.

Please, give yourself the grace to grow at your own pace.

There’s something sacred about being part of a community like this— of people who’ve walked through fire and still have the courage to rebuild. We are not defined by cancer, but we are undeniably shaped by it. It has given us a perspective most people won’t ever have. And it gave us a reason to never waste this life.

So as you step into this next chapter, I urge you to re-meet yourself. Re-introduce yourself to the world. Figure out who you are now. What you care about. What makes you feel alive. And then commit to living fully—because you’ve already endured the storm. And that deserves celebration. That deserves action.

And to the families here tonight, to the donors, to the wonderful staff and supporters of NNCCF: Thank you again. Your support is not just financial—it is transformative. You help turn pain into purpose, and I know I speak for all the students here when I say: we don’t take this opportunity lightly.

To my fellow warriors and survivors—this is your time. Cancer may have tried to interrupt your story, but it does not get to write your ending. You do.

And you have so much left to write.

Congratulations, you trailblazers. Now go keep writing your story.

Thank you.”