I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. I continue to support survivors and their families through my work as a volunteer and mentor with the Cancer Hope Network by offering a safe, empathetic space for mentees to discuss their fears, struggles, and triumphs throughout their cancer journey. My ability to create bonds with people, no matter the situation, is something that I know I will carry with me throughout my life and is something that will open up many doors. I have already had multiple opportunities to shadow my neurosurgeon and the experience has left me certain that I will work in the OR one day. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I’ve always been driven, whether it be getting back up after falling on my rollerblades or chasing the basketball until it hits the floor. It’s that mentality–going all out for every ball–that I apply to every aspect of my life. It is that mentality that helped me continue to be myself while battling cancer. My competitive spirit has helped me form bonds with many. Some of the most significant bonds I’ve created are with the staff at the radiation treatment center, where I was successfully treated for brain cancer at the age of twelve. I remember doing planks, pushups, wall sits, situps, and other challenges with a staff member named Phillip. Coming to the radiation treatment center became exciting as I planned games with which to challenge Phillip. On my last day of treatment, he planned out a whole competition of challenges for us. That is a bond that will last me a lifetime and it was created by a simple push-up. My ability to create bonds no matter the situation through games and challenges is something that I know I will carry with me throughout my life and is something that will open up many doors. I have already had the opportunity to shadow my neurosurgeon and the experience has left me certain that I will work in the OR one day. The opportunity gave me a chance to reflect on the patients that I saw being treated, a patient that was once me. The confident doctors, nervous parents, and eager students make me wonder: Do they see the patient as someone’s child or as just another opportunity? If I were holding the scalpel, I believe that I could look at the patient and understand both their fear and their need to look strong for others. I could see someone with hobbies, friends, family, and a future. I could understand that I’m fighting for their life along with them. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine. Since my surgery, I’ve tried: surfing, snowboarding, skiing, sandboarding, climbing, knitting. On my bucket list: skydiving, bungee jumping, scuba diving, water skiing, hang gliding, rappelling a waterfall, and many more blank boxes which represent my aspiration to live life to the fullest. Just like in the lucky games I (always) win, life is not as fun without risks and exciting moments. Whether those moments are scary, thrilling, nerve wrecking, or joyful, I want to experience everything. Is it really living if you don’t?

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I plan and manage all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, execute the logistics on race day, participate in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year, and inspire my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now also a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine. This scholarship will help me fulfill my dream of working in the OR one day by allowing me to finish my undergrad years and save for med school.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I’ve always been driven, whether it be getting back up after falling on my rollerblades or chasing the basketball until it hits the floor. It’s that mentality–going all out for every ball–that I apply to every aspect of my life. It is that mentality that helped me continue to be myself while battling cancer. My competitive spirit has helped me form bonds with many. Some of the most significant bonds I’ve created are with the staff at the radiation treatment center, where I was successfully treated for brain cancer at the age of twelve. I remember doing planks, pushups, wall sits, situps, and other challenges with a staff member named Phillip. Coming to the radiation treatment center became exciting as I planned games with which to challenge Phillip. On my last day of treatment, he planned out a whole competition of challenges for us. That is a bond that will last me a lifetime and it was created by a simple push-up. My ability to create bonds no matter the situation through games and challenges is something that I know I will carry with me throughout my life and is something that will open up many doors. I have already had the opportunity to shadow my neurosurgeon and the experience has left me certain that I will work in the OR one day. The opportunity gave me a chance to reflect on the patients that I saw being treated, a patient that was once me. The confident doctors, nervous parents, and eager students make me wonder: Do they see the patient as someone’s child or as just another opportunity? If I were holding the scalpel, I believe that I could look at the patient and understand both their fear and their need to look strong for others. I could see someone with hobbies, friends, family, and a future. I could understand that I’m fighting for their life along with them. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine. Since my surgery, I’ve tried: surfing, snowboarding, skiing, sandboarding, climbing, knitting. On my bucket list: skydiving, bungee jumping, scuba diving, water skiing, hang gliding, rappelling a waterfall, and many more blank boxes which represent my aspiration to live life to the fullest. Just like in the lucky games I (always) win, life is not as fun without risks and exciting moments. Whether those moments are scary, thrilling, nerve wrecking, or joyful, I want to experience everything. Is it really living if you don’t?

One of my defining personal qualities is how driven I am, and as a brain cancer survivor, I’ve been determined to give back to the cancer community. I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer motivates me to do all I can to help others who are facing similar circumstances. I started by giving back with friendship bracelets. A local organization, Small Things Matter, was collecting friendship bracelets for cancer patients during the pandemic, and I decided to contribute. What started as making only 10 bracelets soon turned into making 115. I have also used my determination to promote brain cancer awareness by organizing a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the American Brain Tumor Association. I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years, and my team has finished in first or second place for fundraising every year. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race every year. What is always most meaningful to me, however, is that it gives me the opportunity to inspire my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. Additionally, I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. I serve as a supportive mentor for individuals currently undergoing cancer treatment or coping with the aftermath of cancer by offering a safe, empathetic space for them to discuss their fears, struggles, and triumphs. I share my personal experiences as a cancer survivor, providing guidance, emotional support, and encouragement to those facing the same challenges I went through. Finally, while it’s not the cancer community, I also help dementia and elderly patients in need by volunteering at Keswick Multi-Care Center in Baltimore, Maryland. I assist in organizing and attending events for elderly and disabled residents, fostering a supportive and inclusive environment. I provide hands-on assistance during activities, ensuring residents’ participation, comfort, and safety in a positive and engaging atmosphere. With Johns Hopkins University having one of the best medical programs in the nation, I plan to learn from experienced peers and professors as a pre-med student and ultimately fulfill my dream of working in the OR. Neuroscience has had my heart for years. I’ve been receiving MRIs since 4th grade and always loved taking home the pictures of my brain, rotating through them on the computer to see every angle. Every time I had an EEG, I was fascinated by the readout of my brain activity on the monitor. Recently, I witnessed many surgeries when I shadowed my neurosurgeon. These experiences have opened many doors for me, built up my love for neuroscience, and compel me to continue this passion. I’ve shared my story with many, and I’ve been able to live an amazing life thanks to my supportive community. I intend to use this life that has been given to me so that I might save many more.

One of my personal qualities is definitely how driven I am, and as a brain cancer survivor, I’ve been determined to give back to the cancer community. I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to strive to do all I can to help others who are facing similar circumstances. I started by giving back with friendship bracelets. A local organization, Small Things Matter, was collecting friendship bracelets for cancer patients during the pandemic, and I decided to contribute. What started as making only 10 bracelets soon turned into making 115. Friendship bracelets are not the only way I have impacted my community. I have used my determination to promote brain cancer awareness by organizing a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years, and my team has finished in first or second place for fundraising every year. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and more. What is always most meaningful to me, however, is that it gives me the opportunity to inspire my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and additionally, I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. I serve as a supportive mentor for individuals currently undergoing cancer treatment or coping with the aftermath of cancer by offering a safe, empathetic space for them to discuss their fears, struggles, and triumphs. I share my personal experiences as a cancer survivor, providing guidance, emotional support, and encouragement to those facing the same challenges I went through. Finally, while it’s not the cancer community, I also help dementia and elderly patients in need by volunteering at Keswick Multi-Care Center in Baltimore, Maryland. Here, I assist in organizing and attending events for elderly and disabled residents, fostering a supportive and inclusive environment. I provide hands-on assistance during activities, ensuring residents’ participation, comfort, and safety in a positive and engaging atmosphere. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially those struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now also a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA, and I am now a mentor for the Cancer Hope Network, where I continue to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.

I rang the bell on October 26, 2018. Although all I had to do was move my arm, it stood for so much more. It was the first time I was officially cancer free, the culmination of years of seizures, a brain surgery, and proton radiation treatment. My brain tumor story began in the summer going into fourth grade, yet it would take three years before doctors were able to find the cause of my seizures, a grade three Anaplastic Pleomorphic Xanthoastrocytoma. That golf ball sized tumor in my temporal lobe is what caused me to have approximately three seizures a day. Throughout sixth grade, I remember how sleepy I was due to the medication I was taking. I would leave for school just to come right back home after falling asleep in my first class. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let cancer have an impact on my life so even when it was hard to stay awake, I worked harder to achieve all A’s. It was tough to continue playing my two sports while having seizures on the court, but I was tougher. I persevered, continuing to rollerblade and hangout with my friends all through the school year until I had brain surgery at the end of sixth grade. Doctors were able to successfully remove my tumor, but pathology revealed that it was more aggressive than previously thought. This meant that I had to leave school early every day in seventh grade for radiation treatment, presenting another set of academic and personal challenges. As a result of these challenges that I faced, I push myself to work extra hard and challenge myself with difficult courses, because I can remember how hard it was to simply attend school. In my eyes, I have no excuse because if I can manage to get all A’s while battling cancer, I have no limit to my education. It is my devotion towards education and the exposure I’ve had to neurology that makes me certain I will one day be on the other end of the scalpel helping other fighters like me. The adversity I faced while battling brain cancer has led me to organize a 5K in my community every year as an advocate and fundraiser for the ABTA (American Brain Tumor Association). I’ve raised a total of over $28,000 for the ABTA in the past four years. I planned and managed all aspects of hosting the annual event for over 70 people, executed the logistics on race day, and participated in the race by running (or rollerblading) the course every year. My tasks included drawing out the route, organizing signs and chalk for direction, getting food, water, and trash bags, discussing the event with the HOA, and inspiring my community by sharing the story of my brain tumor journey. I continue to be an advocate for the ABTA and make connections with people in the organization as I strive to find additional ways to support survivors and their families. Looking back on my battle against cancer, there were times when it took thirty minutes to swallow my medication, when I was in pain after surgery, when plastic melted onto my face during radiation treatment, when I wanted to quit. But when I see myself, I see a lucky kid. I believe our perspective can control our luck, despite the fact that luck is seen as something uncontrollable. I hope to spread that luck to many others, especially children struggling as I once did, so that they can live a life as full as mine.