Our Story (The Cliff Notes Version)
Hey hey 🤍
I’m Jessica-Rose, and this is my husband, Andrew.
If you’ve landed here, chances are you were handed one of my pageant cards—or you saw a photo of Andrew and me, before and after brain cancer changed everything. Either way, welcome. Our story is a long one, so here are the cliff notes.
I met Andrew in 2015, after his first battle with brain cancer (2009–2011). From the very beginning, he introduced me to adaptive sports and the military community that would become such a huge part of our lives. Because of him, I competed in the 2016 DoD Warrior Games—where I set records, won gold… and ultimately got the diamond. (Yes, that’s when he proposed.)
I met Andrew in 2015, after his first battle with brain cancer (2009–2011). From the very beginning, he introduced me to adaptive sports and the military community that would become such a huge part of our lives. Because of him, I competed in the 2016 DoD Warrior Games—where I set records, won gold… and ultimately got the diamond. (Yes, that’s when he proposed.)
In 2017, I competed in the Invictus Games in Toronto for Team USA—yes, I met Prince Harry, and yes, he really is kind and humble. I earned bronze in track, something I never believed I could do without Andrew believing in me first. Two weeks later, we got married in a castle in Kentucky. His idea—still don’t believe me? I promise it was.
In 2020, our lives changed forever—like so many others—but not because of COVID. Andrew’s brain cancer came back.
In 2021, he underwent brain surgery that didn’t go as planned. He chose the same path he had before: surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. What we didn’t know then—but know now—is that radiation should never be done more than once (for brain cancer). Alongside his grade III astrocytoma, Andrew developed radiation necrosis.
A year later, he lost his ability to speak. As his seizures worsened, he lost the ability to walk. Since 2022, Andrew has been nonverbal and has lost the use of his right hand. After a neurological fever in 2023, he became fully reliant on a wheelchair.
People ask me all the time, “How do you do it?”
The truth is: Andrew and I bonded over core values and shared visions for the future. We loved each other not only for who we were—but for who we were becoming. I’ve walked through deep grief to arrive where I am today, but my decisions are guided by one question: Can my soul rest at night?
Not would he do this for me?
Not would my life be easier without him?
My life—with all its beauty and heartbreak—is what it is because of Andrew, and I am forever grateful.
Healing my grief meant returning to movement. After multiple surgeries of my own and recovery from a severed femoral nerve, I started running again. Cycling without Andrew felt empty, so in January 2025, while making vision boards with a dear friend, we made it official: I would start racing with Andrew.
With support from the Semper Fi Fund, we ordered a racing chariot that arrived just one week before the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon. We tested it at the Stephenson Cancer Center 10K, worked out the kinks, and the following Sunday did something that felt a little insane—with the sole goal of inspiring hope.
With help from friends, we finished in just under six hours. Then we did something even more meaningful: we lifted Andrew out of his chair and helped him walk across the finish line.
In 2026, we’re doing it again—this time with a goal of finishing under five hours.
They say only 1% of the world’s population completes a marathon. Only 1% of Americans use a wheelchair. There’s no data for what we’re doing—just like there was no data for Andrew’s survival, which we’ve surpassed time and time again.
So here’s to loving fiercely, inspiring boldly, and choosing hope—again and again.
If our story resonates with you, I’d love for you to follow and share our journey on Facebook, Instagram, or YouTube. Your follows, subscriptions, love, and support mean more than you know.
With love and light,
Jessica-Rose 🌹✨
