I’ve always been outgoing. I love sport, music, playing guitar, and being surrounded by people. These days, I work as a teacher’s aide and dream of becoming a detective. But none of that would’ve been possible without the care I received as a newborn and throughout my childhood – and without generous donors like you.

I was born six weeks early in Dubbo. At first, everything seemed fine. But the moment I arrived, my parents knew something wasn’t right. My stomach was severely distended, my tongue too large to fit in my mouth. I was diagnosed with Beckwith-Wiedemann Syndrome – a rare genetic disorder that put me at risk of complications from the very beginning.

At just seven days old, I was transferred from our local hospital in Dubbo to The Children’s Hospital at Westmead by the NETS team. It was the beginning of a journey that would span years and change the course of my life.

Over the next year, I spent more time in hospital than out of it – first in the Grace Ward, and then across multiple departments at Westmead. My parents left behind their home, their work, and their support network to be by my side.

There, I underwent multiple surgeries to treat a life-threatening bowel condition and manage dangerously unstable blood sugar levels. I had my first major surgery at just 10 days old. I obviously don’t remember all of it. But my mum and dad do. They remember being told to prepare for the worst. They remember the christening at midnight by my bedside before a life-saving surgery. And they remember the care – the extraordinary, compassionate, relentless care – that kept me alive.

There were many more hurdles – over 15 surgeries in total, including tongue reductions and orthopaedic operations to correct the 6-centimetre growth difference between the left and right sides of my body. But the biggest blow came just before I turned three, when I was diagnosed with liver cancer. It was one of the known risks of Beckwith-Wiedemann Syndrome – but that didn’t make the diagnosis any easier. I underwent six rounds of chemotherapy and had part of my liver removed. My mum was pregnant with my little sister at the time, and we travelled five hours from Dubbo to Sydney for every round of treatment, not to mention how many trips we did until I was 8 years old and officially declared cancer free. 

Through it all, I kept smiling. I danced through the oncology ward, made friends with the nurses, and held onto the little things that made me feel like a kid – even in hospital. I remember racing my IV pole (we called him Rex) down the hospital ramp, visits from Hi-5, and the day I realised I could walk without crutches again. Those moments mattered just as much as the medicine.

Every child’s story is different. Mine is just one of many that are only possible because of the impact of philanthropy. Your generosity helps fund the transport teams who fly newborns like me to specialist care. It helps build NICUs and wards like Grace, where miracles happen every day. It funds life-saving treatments and compassionate, expert staff. And it gives kids like me a chance – not just to survive, but to grow up, thrive, and dream big.

Thanks to you, I have a future. And I plan on living every moment of it.

Thank you for changing the future for sick kids like me.