Maryland Trek
with Justin Berk
Age: 7
Type of Cancer: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL)
Treatment Status: Finishing frontline treatment; transitioning to maintenance
Before Oakley was born, her parents, Chad and Bethany, felt certain about her name. Oakley—from the oak tree, a strong tree. “We didn't know what she was going to need to be strong for,” Chad said. “But we knew there was something about this girl.” Her middle name is Grace. Strength, with grace. Now there are bumper stickers around town that read #OakStrong.
Oakley was six when symptoms her mom knew weren't quite right led to urgent care, then an emergency room, then a redirect to Johns Hopkins. Around 11 p.m., a doctor came in, sat down, and asked Bethany, “Is your husband here?” Chad walked back in just in time to hear the word no parent forgets: leukemia. Oakley went into the hospital that night wearing her unicorn dress with an axolotl painted on her face—the staff knew her as the Axolotl Girl from the ER all the way to the oncology floor.
“One moment everything's fine,” Chad said, “and the next you're navigating monumental discussions for a six-year-old.” He stayed awake 36 straight hours, shuttling between the hospital and their other kids. For a family that does everything together, the separation was the hardest part. “This is when you realize the buck stops with you,” he said. “You're the parent—and even you can't fix this.”
What Oakley has endured in the year since is staggering: nearly a full year of frontline chemotherapy, including—after an allergic reaction forced a switch in medication—48 intramuscular shots in her legs, plus port accesses and spinal taps. She has never once refused. Instead, this seven-year-old tells her nurses, “Hold on—let me process this,” and asks to see the needle before it comes. Bethany, an integrative health practitioner, taught her to use mental imagery, even creating videos of Oakley's favorite dinosaur—the long-beaked Quetzalcoatlus—so the needle becomes something curious coming to visit, not something to fear. Because somewhere along this journey, Oakley traded unicorns for dinosaurs, and she can now tell you facts about every one of them. Her family's motto: we can do hard things.
“She shows up strong,” Chad said. “She was outside catching fireflies two minutes after losing her entire dinner. Kids bounce back in a way we never could.” The family has learned to live on a roller coaster—fine one hour, fever and an ER run the next. They recently reached a milestone: their first two-week break from the hospital in a year, as Oakley transitions toward at-home oral chemotherapy and maintenance.
Their faith anchors them. “We can either get bitter or we can get better,” Chad said. And Bethany offers the advice she'd give any parent: “It's okay to question. Not in a disrespectful way, but in a way that says: you understand cancer—but I understand Oakley. And we can work together.”
Just In Power Kids showed up in the very first week to deliver parking passes. “Immediate relief,” Chad said. “That's something so small that made a really big impact.” Then came the protein powder Oakley happily calls chocolate milk, a gift basket, help with medical bills, and Clean Cuisine meals customized gluten-free for the whole family. “You guys were there from the beginning,” Chad said. “And you understand this isn't just a bad day or a bad year. This is years. You're in it for the long haul with us—because we're in it for the long haul.”
And through it all, the kindness of strangers. “That has been a theme since the day she was diagnosed,” her parents said. “The kindness of strangers has carried us so much further than we ever imagined.”
