My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

Faith is practice. When my alarm goes off, I begin to pray. I thank God for allowing me to wake up this morning, and I ask for guidance and protection for my loved ones and myself. Then, I move on to reading and annotating my Bible. Afterward, I write three things I am grateful for in my gratitude journal. My faith is strong and essential; intentionally practicing it every morning guides me as I start my day. Faith is peace. It is seen as my day continues to unfold. A simple prayer throughout my day transforms any negativity in my mind and heart into positivity, reminding me to trust in God’s plan. When I am praying or reminding myself of God’s abundant love, I realize faith is peace in knowing I am never alone. Regardless of religious beliefs, nobody is alone. I believe that if I can make an impact on someone, even by simply smiling to brighten their day or comforting them in a time of sorrow, then I know I am living a life of faith. Faith is action. God calls me into action to help others and share my story as a cancer survivor, Boston College community member, and future physician. God calls me to further my education in order to serve, heal, and teach others. I would not be who I am today without my faith. While what my future holds at Boston College and beyond is unknown, I know that faith is trust in God’s plan. During my time at Boston College and when I am attending medical school, I plan to continue to implement my faith. I will attend mass weekly and continue my work as a lector. I hope to immerse myself in more community service projects, like the PULSE program and 4Boston at Boston College, along with some other nonprofit organizations, like NEPA Summer in the City and Relay for Life. I know that God has given me this opportunity to be alive and make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that by serving the community. My faith and service allows me to give back to those who have saved me, and I know I will become a deeper thinker and learner and more empathetic person by carrying out God's work and trusting in God's plan. God's plan is always so much better than what I could imagine. I am beyond grateful for the opportunities God has blessed me with.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. That trust stemmed from more than data. In fact, the moments spent conversing over pizza were just as valuable as the time in the pool. As we ate, I learned about each patient’s challenge and journey. It did not matter that the participants could not see me. We only needed to rely on our feelings and words – equality and trust becoming the core of our community. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My mom often tells me, “God always has a plan,” and these are words that showcase how I was raised and who I am today. My mom and I have such a deep connection because we know how meaningful the opportunities are that God blesses us with. It is with God's power and my mom's wisdom that I am able to achieve my wildest dreams in the classroom and community. The first time I remember my mom reminding me of God’s plan was when I was fighting acute lymphoblastic leukemia. It was in those moments that I knew I needed God and my mom to help me win my battle with cancer. Throughout that journey, my mom and I grew even closer; we conversed about our trust in God and His plan because difficult times teach lessons that shape our perspectives with gratitude. Without His plan and my mom's guidance, I may not be here today. I know my cancer experience would not have been the same without my mom by my side and all of our conversations about religion and all of my future goals throughout my chemotherapy and transfusions. She instills the values that I read every day in the Bible and carry out into my community. My mom reminds me to keep working hard to reach my goals because we both know that God saved me for a reason. Her support gave me the strength to train for my black belt in karate while undergoing cancer treatments and begin running cross country despite my weak bones from the treatments. Because of her dedication to caring for and helping me, I am inspired to help others currently by leading two non-profit organizations. My mom believes in me more than I believe in myself, especially with my education and future occupation. I have the spark to help others as a physician because of the amount of care I experienced from my mom and doctors. I have already shadowed many doctors, and I know that I want to spend the next years furthering my education and achieving the dream of becoming a doctor that I've had since I was sick. My mom has taught me that nothing is impossible just because of her continuous love and support. As a student, physician, family member, and community member, I want to leave a lasting impact on the world just as my mom has on me. God has the most power to change and save lives through His work, and I could not be more grateful to have been raised by a wonderful mom in a loving home to recognize that.

It was a sunny day when my fifth grade gym class went out for a run. I was nervous, as I never thought I could run. I had to learn how to walk all over again after my cancer treatments and once-broken femur left me with leg pain and neuropathy. My doctors were thrilled with that accomplishment, but warned me that running would be nearly impossible. However, nothing could stop me and my can-do attitude. On that day in elementary school I ran my first half mile, and it meant the world to me. Not only did I finish it without pain, I finished with the fast boys. From that day on, all I thought about was running competitively, and I knew I needed to keep running to improve my physical and mental health and continue to prove my doctors wrong. As a senior who just finished my last high school cross country season, I feel like I have proved everyone wrong. I had many top finishes at meets, and I won four awards at my school for my dedication to the sport. I have also been featured in newspaper articles at my school and in my local community to showcase my love for running. However, it has not been easy with the amount of injuries I've had. I broke my hip four times. While that is something to be sad about, I learned lessons that will serve me well in every endeavor. Because of my cancer treatments, I have low bone density or osteopenia. This condition makes it very difficult to run a lot of mileage, but I didn’t want to stop running. I have fought hard to become a runner, and I would never let anyone take that part of my identity away. I turned to my doctors and coaches for guidance. The best solution to getting stronger and building endurance for when I could return to running was to join the swim team. Every practice, I missed running more, but I was getting stronger each day and building lifelong friendships with my teammates. My perseverance culminated in qualifying for districts in the distance freestyle events my very first season. I am grateful that I can now run a few miles a week and continue to exercise. My bone density has improved because I receive bisphosphonates via IV treatment. Despite every injury or setback, running has given me some of the best friendships and a place of peace in my stressful days. Whenever I lace up my shoes, I know it is a miracle worth celebrating. I am grateful to call myself a runner. Throughout this journey, I learned that there is much more strength than we realize within us. Running has truly taught me that we are always capable of achieving our wildest dreams with mental strength and grateful hearts. The darkest moments often lead to some of the brightest.

One of the first organizations I joined in high school was my school’s dance marathon, SEMDM (Sem Dance Marathon). This non-profit organization raises money for the Janet Weis Children’s Hospital and the Children’s Miracle Network. As a former cancer patient of this network and hospital, I am very proud and grateful to be the Fundraising Executive of SEMDM two years in a row. The committee puts a lot of pressure on ourselves, and last year we beat our highest total by raising $46,565.52. This year we hope to fundraise $50,000. My role in the dance marathon allows me to communicate directly with local businesses to collect donations and raffle prizes and raise money. I create the list of businesses and make the request in person. When I go into the businesses, I detail the event and use my story to showcase the cause we are fundraising for. Some businesses have helped both years and were excited to see me return and eager to donate. When the event is over, I come back to the businesses, thank them for their contributions, describe the highlights of the event, reveal the grand total made possible with their help. Along with my work in the dance marathon, I also helped create a non-profit organization called NEPA (Northeastern Pennsylvania) Festival where all proceeds go to the Food Dignity Movement. I did similar work to what I did for the dance marathon (fundraising and communicating with local business). We raised over $12,500 in our first year and plan to beat that total this year. I truly enjoy helping with both organizations, and I plan to stay involved with local non-profit organizations. If I could start my own non-profit, I would create one to help children with cancer who do not have enough money to afford treatment. I would plan to have a day of activities, similar to the dance marathon or NEPA Festival. Activities like a 5k walk/run, raffles, vendors, dancing, and much more would be crucial to a successful event. The money would be either given straight to the families or used to provide them with medical equipment, food, or other necessities. I am extremely passionate about serving my community, especially those in need or struggling with illness. I know that this passion will serve me well as a physician. I also know that I will share my story with my battle with leukemia as inspiration to my patients to keep fighting. I will also be proud to discuss my community service that I complete throughout my life because nothing means more to me than making an impact on others whether that is by saving them as a doctor, fundraising for them, or simply by smiling and displaying kindness everyday.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.

My battle with leukemia was not an easy one, but it has fueled me with the fire to help others and give back to the community. One of the first organizations I joined in high school was my school’s dance marathon, SEMDM (Sem Dance Marathon). This non-profit organization raises money for the Janet Weis Children’s Hospital and the Children’s Miracle Network. As a former cancer patient of this network and hospital, I am very proud and grateful to be the Fundraising Executive of SEMDM two years in a row. The committee puts a lot of pressure on ourselves, and last year we beat our highest total by raising $46,565.52. This year we hope to fundraise $50,000. My role in the dance marathon allows me to communicate directly with local businesses to collect donations and raffle prizes and raise money. I create the list of businesses and make the request in person. When I go into the businesses, I detail the event and use my story to showcase the cause we are fundraising for. Some businesses have helped both years and were excited to see me return and eager to donate. When the event is over, I come back to the businesses, thank them for their contributions, describe the highlights of the event, reveal the grand total made possible with their help. Together with my fellow executives, I also help with awareness programming to get my peers excited for the event through social media, group dances, and friendly competitions. The day of SEMDM is a very long one; it is filled with highs and lows as we keep track of how much money we are raising over time. try to keep the energy high and suggest new ideas for what to improve with the donation platform and raffles. I am also proud to remind everyone of what this work means to me and the Miracle children. Along with my work in the dance marathon, I created NEPA Festival, a summer festival in Duryea, Pennsylvania where all proceeds go to the Food Dignity movement. I was the Business Coordinator for the event, and I found great enjoyment in working with so many local businesses who volunteered to be vendors and offer raffle donations. It was incredible to see so many businesses just as thrilled as I was about raising money for those who need it most. The day of the event was a success, as we raised just over $12,000. Everyone in the community was able to unite through the goal of feeding the hungry, and we developed tighter relationships with each other. Civic engagement is really about helping others and working towards something bigger than ourselves, and that is exactly what we did. I am grateful to be alive and to engage with my community in these specific ways and more.

My hand shook with excitement as I firmly grabbed hold of the tattered rope. After much anticipation, the Geisinger Janet Weis Children’s Hospital clinic bell was finally ringing out for me. During my time spent in the clinic, this bell echoed through the halls from time to time. However, this time, it brought my family and I to tears; I was cured of cancer and gifted with life. After winning my battle with cancer, I felt called to help other patients. As a medical intern, I became someone on the other side of the exam room, ready to provide hope and comfort as patients experienced feelings that I understood all too well. Everyone knows that patients depend on their doctors to provide a correct diagnosis and treatment plan, but I know that patients also ask their doctors to offer care, empathy, and positivity. Moments of fear can turn into moments of hope when a patient and physician share a special connection of trust. Fortunately, I experienced this connection centered around trust in the moments of my diagnosis and throughout my cancer journey. One hot and sunny July day, I was taken to the emergency room for what I thought was a broken leg. Much to my surprise, I was whisked away for a spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy. Soon after, my parents and I heard the words we never expected to hear – I had cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Soon, a nurse was clicking the brakes off of my hospital bed and rolling me to the inpatient pediatric cancer unit - my home for the next three months. Unable to walk, weak from side effects, and in excruciating pain, I was unsure and scared of what was to come. Yet, I began to use my trust in God, family, and doctors to overpower any negativity, and I was released from the hospital to begin at-home physical and occupational therapy. I traveled over an hour to the clinic multiple times a week to receive IV chemotherapy through a port in my chest. Three years later, that port became my scar – the physical reminder of the fight I endured and the doctors who helped. My understanding of service and medicine was strengthened last summer when I created a research project at Misericordia University. In partnership with University professors and students, we created an aerobic exercise program to assess the mental and physical effects of aqua therapy on eight visually impaired volunteers. For two months, I observed the adversities of each participant and simultaneously admired their faith. Despite the difficulties, they were hopeful for brighter, healthier lives and trusted in our plan. Equality and trust should be the foundation of any medical relationship. Now, I don’t think about my cancer journey being difficult, but instead, everyday, I think about the hope and strength my doctors inspired. Our special connection will last a lifetime and will be the foundation of my service as a doctor. The day I rang that bell will forever be etched in my mind as the most beautiful day of my life. I know that beating cancer would not be possible without a loving physician by my side, and I want to be that physician for others. I want to celebrate with my patients in moments of joy and offer a shoulder to cry on in moments of difficulty. I live every day knowing that God has given me the chance to make a difference in the world, and I plan on doing just that.