"I am leaving Blue Faery. I am not leaving the story."

November 15, 2026

I never intended to be a founder.

Seriously. No one grows up saying,

"Someday, I want to start a nonprofit."

I certainly didn't.

I started Blue Faery because another organization told me no.

My little sister, Adrienne, was 15 years old when she was diagnosed with hepatocellular carcinoma (HCC). She died 147 days later. She was funny, stubborn, beautiful, creative, and wicked smart. She was my sister, but because of family circumstances, I also raised her from the time she was eight years old.

After she died, I knew I wanted to do something about liver cancer. I approached an established liver disease organization with an idea. They slammed the door in my face (metaphorically speaking).

Then I came across a quote attributed to Lily Tomlin.

"I always wondered why somebody didn't do something about that. Then I realized I was somebody."

So in 2002, I started Blue Faery. We were incorporated on the same day–December 19–that Adrienne came to live with me eight years before. It felt like more than a coincidence. Perhaps it was fate.

I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't have a grand strategic plan. I didn't know that this organization would consume a huge part of my life for the next 24 years. I knew that my beloved sister was dead from a cancer most people had never heard of, and that liver cancer would increase exponentially in the future. I knew patients and families needed help, and somebody needed to do something about it.

That somebody was me.

Over the next two decades, Blue Faery grew from an idea born out of grief into a national liver cancer organization serving patients and families across the country. We educated people who had never heard the words hepatocellular carcinoma. We funded research. We created resources. We brought patients and experts together. We fought for people who felt invisible. And we insisted, again and again, that if you are making decisions about patients, patients deserve a seat at the table.

I am incredibly proud of what we built.

But I don't want to romanticize the journey.

There were times I wanted to quit.

Being a founder can be incredibly lonely. There is a particular weight that comes with creating something from nothing and then feeling responsible for keeping it alive. There were years when Blue Faery demanded more from me than I thought I had left to give. There were disappointments, failures, financial worries, tough decisions, and plenty of moments when walking away seemed easier. And then the phone would ring.

• A patient had just been diagnosed and didn't know what to do.

• A wife was terrified she was going to lose her husband.

• A daughter was trying to understand her father's treatment options.

Someone needed us.

And suddenly, quitting wasn't an option anymore.

Those patients and caregivers probably never knew what those phone calls meant to me. They thought they were calling Blue Faery because they needed help.

Sometimes, they were the ones helping me.

They reminded me why we were here.

That is what made this work so hard. And so rewarding.

Blue Faery has never really belonged to me. It belongs to every patient who trusted us with their story. Every caregiver who called us—scared and exhausted. Every physician, nurse, researcher, advocate, volunteer, board member, employee, donor, corporate partner, and friend who believed people with liver cancer deserved better.

They still do.

And that is why I know it is time for me to leave.

One of the hardest lessons of leadership is recognizing that staying forever is not the same thing as serving forever. Great leaders know when they are needed. They also know when it is time to make room for someone else to lead.

Blue Faery is ready.

And so am I.

I am leaving with enormous confidence in this organization and tremendous hope for the future of liver cancer. The landscape today looks quite different from the one Adrienne and I entered more than two decades ago. There are more treatments. More research. More awareness. More collaboration. More reasons for patients and families to hope.

There is also much more work to do.

Blue Faery will keep doing it.

As for me, I am returning to the parts of myself that have been waiting for my attention. I am a writer. A speaker. A storyteller. A comedian. A creator. Those things existed before Blue Faery, and they will exist after it.

Adrienne will, too.

She has been beside me through every patient conversation, every program, every speech, every impossible day, every victory, and every moment when quitting would have been easier.

For a long time, some part of me believed keeping Blue Faery alive was how I kept Adrienne alive. But love doesn't work that way. Adrienne is woven into me. And Blue Faery is strong enough to carry her name and her legacy without requiring me to carry the entire organization.

What a gift that is.

To everyone who has walked some part of this 24-year journey with me: thank you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for challenging me. Thank you for believing in this work. Thank you for picking up the phone. Thank you for helping turn one sister's grief into something that has reached thousands of families we will never meet.

Twenty-four years ago, I realized somebody needed to do something.

So, I did.

Now it is someone else's turn.

I am leaving Blue Faery.

I am not leaving the story.

And I cannot wait to see what happens next.

Sincerely,

Andrea Wilson Woods

Founder

Blue Faery: The Adrienne Wilson Liver Cancer Association