Peter J. Musto Memorial Scholarship

Cancer entered my life on my birthday, December 6th. That was the day my father was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Just twenty-four days later, on December 30th, the day before his 60th birthday, he passed away. The doctors said they had never seen a case progress so rapidly; it had likely begun only months earlier that summer. The speed of it all left my family and me in disbelief. One moment, he was working and joking like always, and the next, he was gone. Losing my father so suddenly changed the way I see everything, life, health, and time itself. He was a man of quiet strength, calm even when his body was failing. During those final weeks, I saw him face death with a level of peace I didn’t yet understand. That image of grace in the face of something uncontrollable became a defining part of how I approach challenges in my own life. At the time, I couldn’t process the magnitude of it all. It felt like the world had accelerated beyond what I could handle, just like his illness. But over time, the same event that shattered me became my motivation. My father’s death is the reason I chose to pursue medicine and research. It’s the reason I now spend my days in a chemistry lab at the University of South Florida, searching for meaning in molecules. As an undergraduate research assistant in a natural products chemistry lab, I study bioactive compounds isolated from marine and terrestrial organisms, some of which have potential applications in treating cancer and other diseases. When I learned that the compounds we analyze might one day help patients like my father, I felt a deep sense of clarity. Every chromatogram I study and every NMR spectrum I interpret feels like a small act of purpose—one step toward understanding and healing. My work in the lab has also given me tangible skills. I’ve gained experience with HPLC, MPLC, NMR, and mass spectrometry, and I’ve presented my findings at both the SERMACS conference in Orlando and USF’s Undergraduate Research Conference. Each presentation reminds me that science doesn’t exist in isolation; it’s a language of hope shared among those who refuse to stop asking questions. Next year, I’ll begin a research-based master’s program in the same lab, continuing my work on natural products and bioactive discovery. My ultimate goal is to join USF’s MD–PhD program for the Fall 2027 cycle, combining research and medicine to bridge the gap between discovery and patient care. I want to be the kind of doctor who understands illness not just biologically, but personally, the way it affects families, identities, and futures. Cancer has affected my life in a way that cannot be separated from who I am. It taught me empathy through grief, focus through pain, and purpose through loss. My father’s illness was cruel in its suddenness, but the lessons it left behind have shaped everything I’ve become. I can’t undo what happened, but I can transform it. Every experiment I run, every class I complete, every patient I hope to one day help, they’re all quiet ways of carrying him forward. He didn’t live to see my future unfold, but his strength and love are what made it possible. And that, to me, is the greatest inheritance anyone could ask for.

I never thought that skiing would save my life. It was a normal day skiing until I had a slight fall on my right hip. The pain felt minor, but it turned out that I had a fracture in my hip. I had multiple MRIs and X-rays, but the doctors all said that the images looked funny. This is the first time that the doctors mentioned it might be cancer, but they said it would be a very small chance. So the doctors continued to put a plate and screws in my hip to correct the fracture, and they also took a biopsy of my bone. After a few long days of recovery, I returned home thinking my life would go back to normal. But on February 28th, I got diagnosed with a rare bone cancer: Ewing's Sarcoma. My life had taken a full 180-degree spin from being a normal high school student to having to fight for my life against cancer. In less than a week, I was in the hospital getting my first chemotherapy treatment. I continued to have chemotherapy treatments for the next 8 months with a hip replacement surgery. The stress and treatments kept me up all night and kept my mind wandering. I asked myself the question, "If I died today, would I be happy with what I have done with my life?" The answer was no. That was when I realized I needed to take control of my life and make a future for myself. I started taking school seriously and began doing very well in my classes. Cancer stopped many activities for me like sports and clubs, so all of my attention went into my classes. A few long months later, I was declared cancer-free and my life slowly became normal again. Although I suffered a lot, I learned many things and grew up quickly. I had a different outlook on life and I wanted to take full advantage of the life I can live. Upon doing very well in high school classes, I worked multiple jobs and started my car detailing business. I was working towards my goal of being successful every single day. During my senior year, I decided that I would continue my education at Penn State University. Fast forward to today, I still have the same mindset, and I am pushing myself every day. I enjoy the process of getting better and better every day, whether that is through work or school. I love setting and chasing goals. There is not a day, even three years later, that cancer does not cross my mind. I remind myself almost every day, that I am very fortunate, and that I should never take a day in my life for granted. Even if I could go back in time and change my past, I would not take away my cancer diagnosis. Having cancer shaped my character and made me the person I am today.

October 5th, 2021 was the day my whole life changed. I was a sophomore in high school with no worries. From going to class to having soccer after school, to hanging out with friends on the weekends. My life was pretty carefree until it wasn't. My dad had been diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 44. I still remember my parents sitting me down and explaining what had happened. As a 15-year-old girl, I was not sure how to react. How do you react to someone telling you that your best friend for the last 15 years has a deadly disease? It did not feel real, it was almost like I had been dreaming. My dad and I have always had a tight bond, we did almost everything together. He taught me how to ride a bike, kick a soccer ball, and was always there when I needed him. So when he got sick one fear would be that he would miss so much of my life. There is a constant fear that he will not make it to my graduation, will not be there to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, and to meet my children. A month after being diagnosed my dad had his first surgery on November 5th, 2021. This was his colon surgery to get rid of as much of the cancerous mass as they could. He was in the hospital for around three days before he came home to recover. Those were the hardest three days my family has gone through. Seeing your mom come home from the hospital sobbing because she did not want to leave him there alone, is something a daughter should never have to witness. I was a kid but I had to be the strong one. Not only for my dad but also for my mom. November 24, 2021, was the surgery to get his port implanted. After repeated scans, they found that the cancer had spread to both his lungs and his liver. December 6, 2021, was his first round of treatment, which totaled 23 treatments. After his first round of chemo, the doctors discovered that the masses were not shrinking like they had hoped. So, in June 2022 he started radiation. Finally, something had shrunk the masses in his lungs enough for them to go in and remove them. However, because of the positioning of some of the tumors, he would need multiple surgeries. His right lung came first, on February 8, 2023. There they removed all but one mass. His second lung surgery in April was canceled because of the progression in his liver. On April 7, 2023, my dad hesitantly started his second round of chemo. I say hesitantly because he no longer wanted to do chemo. He did not have much energy and seemed depressed. The first round took so much out of him, and he was constantly sick. Seeing him go through that was so hard, that I did anything I could to not be home. I knew he needed me and my help, but I could not see him like that. He is now waiting to enter a clinical trial in two weeks. Seeing my dad, my best friend, honestly, my hero so sick and so depressed has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. No matter how hard and how much pressure it may put on me, I know that he has it 100 times worse. He will always be my priority and the strongest man I know.