January 2, 2012, I was told the hardest news I have ever received. After several tests at the ripe age of 13 I was told by the E.R doctor that I had a brain tumor. From there I was rushed into surgery due to complications I had to undergo four more brain surgeries during one I suffered a stroke. Due to the massive amount of trauma my brain endured I was in a vegetative state for at least 2 months. According to my parents and photos I couldn’t even sit up I just was mush and drooled. After a while in that state, it was time for me to enter rehab and learn how to walk, talk, and move again. After 2 years of inpatient and outpatient rehab I learned to walk and talk again not perfect, but I can blend into the crowd if you don’t look so hard. After several evaluations my mother was told I would never graduate high school much less go to college or hold down a job. I do not have a job only because I wouldn’t be able to handle a job and school. I write this now not only as a high school graduate but as a Westchester Community College graduate with an associates degree in Communications/ Media arts. After completing my associates I transferred to SUNY Purchase to receive my Bachelor’s in Communications. I try my best to not let my past or my disabilities define me or where I’m going. My parents have finically supported me for 23 years and still are I hope to be able to ease the burden if rewarded this scholarship.

After a brain tumor and stroke at 13, I was forced to wear an eyepatch due to double vision from an optical nerve getting severed. After writing a research paper on Media’s Representation of woman in eyepatches or lack thereof, I read a study stating kids with lazy eye who wore eyepatches had lower self-esteem and self-perception and that broke my heart because I spent years just trying to accept the new me, I thought hey maybe if those kids saw themselves in the media, they’d feel better. When people see an eyepatch there first go to assumption is pirate or villain because that is what the media portrays us as; I would love to eradicate those negative stereotypes. I want to change people’s perceptions on eyepatches and help empower those who need to wear an eyepatch, so I started a website and Instagram. I want to show that even a girl in an eyepatch can be beautiful. I want to be able to give us the proper media representation we deserve. Once I get a job I would like to start a designer eyepatch company.

January 2, 2012, I was taken to the emergency room, where I waited four grueling hours, had to explain my symptoms to the doctor, and finally was rushed to a CT scan. The doctor, in the bluntest of voices: “Your daughter has a brain tumor.” I vividly remember my dad, the strongest man I know, a lieutenant, bawling. My mother, another strong individual, was in fear, yet withheld her tears. I understand now how she wanted not to cry in front of me. Rather, I squeezed her hand crying, petrified of the day I had been having. Worst of all, I had to go into surgery. I had never been through surgery and now I was scheduled for one of the most complex and dangerous, brain surgery. I came out just fine, or so I thought. When I woke up from the surgery, I was sent back to my room. The following morning, however, the doctor came into my room, gasped, and screamed, “Dora, your pillow is soaking wet!” My reply, “I drool too much.” Little did I know, it was brain liquid and I had to be rushed into yet another surgery. Without a hint of fear in my voice, I reassured my mother that I would be ok. “Mom, I got this!” I remember saying. Unfortunately, that was not the case. I went into that second surgery and a coma. I underwent three more surgeries in this state one of which I suffered a stroke. I had to be transferred to the Blythedale Children’s Hospital where I couldn’t eat, walk, or talk. They thought my left arm would be paralyzed forever. After about a month there my right side had gone completely normal and my left side moved but shakily. After two months of hard work and extensive therapy, I gained mobility in my legs and arms. I now suffered from a speech impediment, but with the progress, I had made I was able to go home on outpatient treatment. Due to an optical nerve getting severed during the stroke I wear an eyepatch. My brain endured trauma that even I cannot completely comprehend or explain. One of the things that hurt the most about going through what I had was no longer being able to sing and dance like I used to. After several evaluations, my mother was told I would never graduate high school much less go to college or hold down a job. I do not have a job only because I wouldn’t be able to handle a job and school. I write this now not only as a high school graduate but as a Westchester Community College graduate with an associate's degree in Communications/ Media Arts. After completing my associates I transferred to SUNY Purchase to earn my Bachelor’s in Communications. I try my best to not let my past or my disabilities define me or where I’m going. My parents have finically supported me for 23 years and still are I hope to be able to ease the burden if rewarded this scholarship.

January 2, 2012, I was taken to the emergency room, where I waited four grueling hours, had to explain my symptoms to the doctor, and finally was rushed to a CT scan. The doctor, in the bluntest of voices: “Your daughter has a brain tumor.” I vividly remember my dad, the strongest man I know, a lieutenant, bawling. My mother, another strong individual, was in fear, yet withheld her tears. I understand now how she wanted not to cry in front of me. Rather, I squeezed her hand crying, petrified of the day I had been having. Worst of all, I had to go into surgery. I had never been through surgery and now I was scheduled for one of the most complex and dangerous, brain surgery. I came out just fine, or so I thought. When I woke up from the surgery, I was sent back to my room. The following morning, however, the doctor came into my room, gasped, and screamed, “Dora, your pillow is soaking wet!” My reply, “I drool too much.” Little did I know, it was brain liquid and I had to be rushed into yet another surgery. Without a hint of fear in my voice, I reassured my mother that I would be ok. “Mom, I got this!” I remember saying. Unfortunately, that was not the case. I went into that second surgery and a coma. I underwent three more surgeries in this state one of which I suffered a stroke. I had to be transferred to the Blythedale Children’s Hospital where I couldn’t eat, walk, or talk. They thought my left arm would be paralyzed forever. After about a month there my right side had gone completely normal and my left side moved but shakily. After two months of hard work and extensive therapy, I gained mobility in my legs and arms. I now suffered from a speech impediment, but with the progress, I had made I was able to go home on outpatient treatment. Due to an optical nerve getting severed during the stroke I wear an eyepatch. My brain endured trauma that even I cannot completely comprehend or explain. One of the things that hurt the most about going through what I had was no longer being able to sing and dance like I used to. After several evaluations, my mother was told I would never graduate high school much less go to college or hold down a job. I do not have a job only because I wouldn’t be able to handle a job and school. I write this now not only as a high school graduate but as a Westchester Community College graduate with an associate's degree in Communications/ Media Arts. After completing my associates I transferred to SUNY Purchase to earn my Bachelor’s in Communications. I try my best to not let my past or my disabilities define me or where I’m going. My parents have finically supported me for 23 years and still are I hope to be able to ease the burden if rewarded this scholarship.

January 2, 2012, I was taken to the emergency room, where I waited four grueling hours, had to explain my symptoms to the doctor, and finally was rushed to a CT scan. The doctor, in the bluntest of voices: “Your daughter has a brain tumor.” I vividly remember my dad, the strongest man I know, a lieutenant, bawling. My mother, another strong individual, was in fear, yet withheld her tears. I understand now how she wanted not to cry in front of me. Rather, I squeezed her hand crying, petrified of the day I had been having. Worst of all, I had to go into surgery. I had never been through surgery and now I was scheduled for one of the most complex and dangerous, brain surgery. I came out just fine, or so I thought. When I woke up from the surgery, I was sent back to my room. The following morning, however, the doctor came into my room, gasped, and screamed, “Dora, your pillow is soaking wet!” My reply, “I drool too much.” Little did I know, it was brain liquid and I had to be rushed into yet another surgery. Without a hint of fear in my voice, I reassured my mother that I would be ok. “Mom, I got this!” I remember saying. Unfortunately, that was not the case. I went into that second surgery and a coma. I underwent three more surgeries in this state one of which I suffered a stroke. I had to be transferred to the Blythedale Children’s Hospital where I couldn’t eat, walk, or talk. They thought my left arm would be paralyzed forever. After about a month there my right side had gone completely normal and my left side moved but shakily. After two months of hard work and extensive therapy, I gained mobility in my legs and arms. I now suffered from a speech impediment, but with the progress, I had made I was able to go home on outpatient treatment. Due to an optical nerve getting severed during the stroke I wear an eyepatch. My brain endured trauma that even I cannot completely comprehend or explain. One of the things that hurt the most about going through what I had was no longer being able to sing and dance like I used to. After several evaluations, my mother was told I would never graduate high school much less go to college or hold down a job. I do not have a job only because I wouldn’t be able to handle a job and school. I write this now not only as a high school graduate but as a Westchester Community College graduate with an associate's degree in Communications/ Media Arts. After completing my associates I transferred to SUNY Purchase to earn my Bachelor’s in Communications. I try my best to not let my past or my disabilities define me or where I’m going. My parents have finically supported me for 23 years and still are I hope to be able to ease the burden if rewarded this scholarship.

January 2, 2012, I was taken to the emergency room, where I waited four grueling hours, had to explain my symptoms to the doctor, and finally was rushed to a CT scan. The doctor, in the bluntest of voices: “Your daughter has a brain tumor.” I vividly remember my dad, the strongest man I know, a lieutenant, bawling. My mother, another strong individual, was in fear, yet withheld her tears. I understand now how she wanted not to cry in front of me. Rather, I squeezed her hand crying, petrified of the day I had been having. Worst of all, I had to go into surgery. I had never been through surgery and now I was scheduled for one of the most complex and dangerous, brain surgery. I came out just fine, or so I thought. When I woke up from the surgery, I was sent back to my room. The following morning, however, the doctor came into my room, gasped, and screamed, “Dora, your pillow is soaking wet!” My reply, “I drool too much.” Little did I know, it was brain liquid and I had to be rushed into yet another surgery. Without a hint of fear in my voice, I reassured my mother that I would be ok. “Mom, I got this!” I remember saying. Unfortunately, that was not the case. I went into that second surgery and a coma. I underwent three more surgeries in this state one of which I suffered a stroke. I had to be transferred to the Blythedale Children’s Hospital where I couldn’t eat, walk, or talk. They thought my left arm would be paralyzed forever. After about a month there my right side had gone completely normal and my left side moved but shakily. After two months of hard work and extensive therapy, I gained mobility in my legs and arms. I now suffered from a speech impediment, but with the progress, I had made I was able to go home on outpatient treatment. Due to an optical nerve getting severed during the stroke I wear an eyepatch. My brain endured trauma that even I cannot completely comprehend or explain. One of the things that hurt the most about going through what I had was no longer being able to sing and dance like I used to. After several evaluations, my mother was told I would never graduate high school much less go to college or hold down a job. I do not have a job only because I wouldn’t be able to handle a job and school. I write this now not only as a high school graduate but as a Westchester Community College graduate with an associate's degree in Communications/ Media Arts. After completing my associates I transferred to SUNY Purchase to earn my Bachelor’s in Communications. I try my best to not let my past or my disabilities define me or where I’m going. My parents have finically supported me for 23 years and still are I hope to be able to ease the burden if rewarded this scholarship.