Losing a parent is never something that someone can be ready for. When it happens before reaching adulthood though, it's truly terrible, even when you know it's coming. My dad was kind, caring, supportive, and anything anyone could ever ask for in a parent. I was in grade eleven when he was diagnosed with gastric cancer. I still remember that day vividly. He was in the hospital, and going in for surgery to clear a gastrointestinal blockage. It was supposed to be a straightforward procedure. So when my mom called in the middle of class, it felt like my heart stopped. I grabbed my things and sprinted downstairs. It was right outside the front doors of my school where my mom picked me up, and told me that my dad had stage four cancer. Honestly, I didn't think my dad was going to make it out of the hospital. When he did, I was relieved, but I was not prepared for how drastically it would change the lives of myself and my family. It became much harder to focus on studying, because I was constantly worried and anxious for my dad, and I was helping out a lot more with my three younger siblings and ensuring my dad was taking all of his medications. I had already been interested in pursuing medicine, but seeing him go through multiple rounds of chemotherapy to fight to stay alive further drove me to pursue medicine so that I could help people like him. I wanted to help not only in terms of diagnosis and treatment - what I really wanted was to ensure that patients could understand what was happening to them in a practical sense. My parents didn't have much of a background in science, so they didn't understand a lot of what the doctors were saying. Instead, I was the one trying to make sense of what was going on, and translate it into something that my parents could understand. My dad fought cancer for just over a year, before he ended up dying from septic shock. After he died, I missed him so much. But I wanted to make him proud, which to me meant studying hard to get into medical school. I made it through my undergraduate studies and did very well, but I didn't get accepted into medical school. It was around that time when I learned of genetic counseling, a career where providers get to take the time to explain the implications of genetic test results and diagnoses, while also providing emotional support. I had my own concerns as well regarding the possibility of a genetic predisposition given my dad's early age of diagnosis (he was only 43), and learning that there was a career where I could help people who were battling cancer, or who were anxious about their own risk of cancer like I was, seemed like an ideal fit for me. It took three long years of applying, but I was finally accepted into a genetic counseling program. There are different specialties within genetic counseling that graduates may work in, but I am particularly interested in pediatric oncology and adult cancer. My unique set of circumstances allows me to feel greater compassion and empathy in this setting, which I feel helps me communicate better with patients. Based on my clinical rotations so far, it does mean that it sometimes feels more draining, and I might be more prone to compassion fatigue down the line. But I think it is worth it, to be able to help others like myself and my dad.

There are two major events that drastically impacted the course of my life. The first was when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. He was only 43 years old at the time. I was in grade 11 and had previously been spending most of my time working hard at school and training in competitive soccer. When my dad got sick, everything changed. He was usually the one at home taking care of us, but instead, we were taking care of him. My mom and I were the most involved in that, ensuring he took all of his medications on time, helping him move around the house and bringing him whatever he needed as he got progressively weaker. While my mom would take him to his various appointments, I would have to take care of my three younger siblings (my youngest sister was in kindergarten at the time). I made their lunches, walked them to school, and tried to help them with their homework, while also trying to maintain my GPA and extracurriculars. I had to quit my competitive soccer team because it wasn't feasible to attend practices five times per week 45 minutes away, but I was able to remain as captain and MVP of my school varsity soccer team. It took a lot of adjusting, but I found a new normal, albeit one with a lot more responsibility. On top of those extra responsibilities, I found myself in the role of interpreting medical jargon for both of my parents. I had a baseline understanding of science, genetics, and cancer at that point, but not a lot of knowledge. Yet, it was still enough that with the help of Google, I could make sense of what the doctors were saying, and why they were making certain medical decisions. I was already interested in medicine prior to this because I was fascinated with biology, but this is what truly led my pursuit of a career in medicine. I wanted to become a doctor to help individuals like my dad, not just with finding a diagnosis to heal people, but to explain to patients what is happening to them in a way that they are actually able to understand. It's their health and they have a right to understand what is happening to them, without needing to rely on an intermediary to assist them. Sadly my dad passed away when I was in grade 12, but his situation is what drove me to work and study as hard as I could to do well for the remainder of high school and university, so that I could get into medical school. The second major turning point in my life was when I learned about genetic counseling. I went through my undergraduate studies as a pre-med student, but I truly loved my genetics courses. I learned that a career in genetic counseling involves organizing genetic testing, explaining various genetic conditions to patients in layman's terms (including cause, familial implications, and changes in clinical management), and providing emotional support throughout. Compared to doctors who often have limited time with patients, this role would allow me to spend more time to thoroughly answer patients' questions and support them in difficult times. After three years of applying, I am finally in a genetic counseling program, and I'm loving it. I'm hoping to eventually have a career as a cancer genetic counselor, where I can help people who have a cancer diagnosis and may be at an increased risk for additional cancers, or those who are at increased risk of cancer based on their family history.

Losing a parent is never something that someone can be ready for. When it happens before reaching adulthood though, it's truly terrible, even when you know it's coming sooner than you could've ever imagined. My dad was kind, caring, supportive, and anything anyone could ever ask for in a parent. He wasn't a stay-at-home dad, but he's the one in my family who did more of the cooking, and he was home more because his job was less demanding than my mom's. I never realized how much he shaped my view of gender roles, compared to society as a whole. While I got more of my personality from my mom (specifically being a perfectionist, and developing severe anxiety as a result), he was the one who tried to help me find balance in my life. He was the one who tried to make sure that I made time for having fun, and tried to help me understand that it's okay to not be perfect. Even while he was fighting cancer, he was still doing his utmost to make sure my siblings and I were doing as well as we could be given the circumstances. After he died, I was struggling. Not only was I missing my dad for obvious reasons, but without my dad I had trouble maintaining balance in my life again. The only way I felt able to function was by ignoring everything I was feeling and distracting myself, usually in the form of studying. At the time, this didn't seem like a problem to me, because I wanted to go to medical school to help people like my dad, and I needed good grades to get there. Plus, I still wanted to make my dad proud, so I pushed forward. Eventually the consequences of trying to suppress my grief hit me; my grades took a hit, and I went into a downwards spiral. What eventually brought me out of it was finally trying to channel all that my dad had tried to teach me, and finding a way to bring back balance. I stopped overloading my schedule, and started going to the gym. I started spending more time with my friends outside the classroom setting. And eventually, I got into graduate school, and these skills are keeping me sane in such a stressful environment. I had wanted to pursue medical school initially because of my love of biology, and wanting to help people like my dad. Particularly, I wanted to be able to explain all the medical jargon in a way that patients without science backgrounds (like my dad) would be able to understand, so they could make more informed decisions regarding their health. However, after gaining more experience through volunteering in hospitals, I realized that while an admirable goal, it would be difficult given how overwhelmed the medical system is at this time. I eventually learned about genetic counseling, where appointments are structured in a way that you truly have the time to explain concepts to patients. That's what I am now studying in graduate school. When I'm not in class or doing my rotations, I'm working to fund my education. While at school I work as an administrative assistant, but when visiting my hometown I try to pick up overnight shifts as a patient transporter, in the hospital where my dad passed away. Sometimes it's really difficult to be working there, but in way it helps me continue feeling connected to my dad, and it reminds me of why I'm working so hard to one day have a career helping people like him.

I've always tried to give back to my community however I can, but it has never felt like I was making enough of a difference. During my time as an undergraduate student, I participated in a campus club where we would fundraise for the city's children's hospital. From collecting donations and putting up posters advertising events, to making cookies for bake sales, I was very involved in fundraising. I also volunteered in-person at the same hospital, where I spent time playing with the kids admitted there to raise their spirits, or keep them company when their family couldn't be there with them. I enjoy working with children, and I also love playing soccer, so I also spent many summers volunteering at a soccer camp for children with special needs to teach them how to play soccer. I volunteered at a local hospital in the long term care ward with the elderly who otherwise spent a lot of time alone, and as a peer tutor to help my classmates with understanding their class work. I enjoy helping others, but it didn't always feel like I was making a significant difference. When the COVID-19 pandemic started, I volunteered online instead, as a crisis text line responder. There I truly could feel the difference I was making, one person at a time. But it was really hard on me emotionally, because my mental health was also suffering, After two years I switched to a different emotional support text line where the conversations weren't consistently as intense as those I was encountering with the Kids Help Phone crisis line. Since then, I have become a supervisor at the Certified Listeners support line, which I am enjoying because through supporting other chat volunteers, I can help more people simultaneously. Aside from volunteering as an emotional support text line supervisor, my focus is on graduate school right now. I am training to become a genetic counselor, where I will be able to positively impact those who I see as patients. There are so many people who have negative experiences with the medical field, and in a potentially life-changing situation (which is often the case in genetics, given the possibility of familial implications), I want to help them through it as best as I can. In the future when I am financially stable, I intend to donate money to research, ideally for the rare disease community which doesn't get as much focus, and for hereditary cancer syndromes. Rare diseases combined affect one in ten Americans, but because they are comprised of so many individual diseases, many don't get enough resources for research. I would love to help fund the research that eventually will give someone some hope for a cure or treatment that currently doesn't exist. Cancer research is also close to my heart though, as my dad passed away when he was only 44 from stomach cancer. Perhaps if I get a job as a cancer genetic counselor I can donate more to the rest of the rare disease community, or vice versa. I don't know for sure yet, but in the future this is how I want to leave my mark on the world. And in the meantime, I will continue helping individuals through the emotional support text line, and work hard to become the best genetic counselor I can be.

I didn't know what to expect when I got that life-changing phone call. Actually that's not true, I tend to jump to worst-case thoughts. My dad was going into surgery, and it was supposed to be straight forward. He had some kind of blockage obstructing his gastrointestinal system, and the doctors were just going to clear out the obstruction. I was waiting for a "he is fine" text from my mom. Instead, the phone rang. This wasn't the "all good" text. It honestly felt like my heart stopped. I thought I was going to pick up the phone and learn that my dad had died. But he hadn't. At least not yet. Instead it was my mom telling me that we were going to the hospital, because my dad had stage four stomach cancer. I was experiencing a maelstrom of emotions - relief that he was alive, numb at this unexpected news, and total despair over what I perceived to be a death sentence (especially after a quick google search showed me a 3% 5-year survival rate). I didn't know what to expect after he was diagnosed. I was half-convinced he wouldn't leave the hospital, but after a month he did. He came home. He couldn't eat anymore, and he had a nurse come by every morning and evening to connect and disconnect him from his overnight IV that was providing him with nutrition. He couldn't go to work anymore, but still did some work from home. My mom and I were coordinating to make sure he was taking his many medications as scheduled. It was drastically different, but he was living. I didn't know, and honestly still don't know, how I was at all functional at that time of my life. I was in eleventh grade, and was still trying to juggle keeping an A+ GPA while being involved in many extracurriculars, in addition to now taking my three younger siblings to school, packing their lunches, and making sure they did their homework. I was spending time with my dad, even when he was out of it because of his medications making him loopy. Looking back, it wasn't enough time that I spent with him. But then again, no amount of time would have felt like enough. I didn't know that March 27, 2016 would be the day that he took his last breath. He had been living with cancer for over a year, and he was doing okay. The cancer hadn't progressed much or metastasized further. But then while I was out visiting a friend, he went into septic shock. He was on life support for two weeks before his heart finally stopped, and mine broke. I didn't know how to live without my dad. It felt so wrong to not go bring him his medications in the evening, or sit and talk with him about all the cool stuff I learned that day at school. I buried myself in my studies so that I wouldn't have to deal with my emotions. That's probably why it took me so long to reach that "acceptance" stage of grief. It is by no means a linear process, I learned that the hard way. There were countless tears shed at the most inconvenient times because I tried to suppress all my upsetting thoughts and emotions. It took more years than I care to admit, but I eventually learned to cope. I learned how to take care of myself and my mental health. I learned to keep living, and I know that he will always be with me.

Genetics is fascinating. The way that these incredibly specific patterns of molecules within our DNA can give the instructions for our body to function properly, and how one tiny change can cause numerous consequences, is astounding. Since starting to learn about genetics in eleventh grade, when we learned about Punnett squares and I applied their use to understand the genetics behind my dad's color-blindness and how none of my siblings or I had the same blood type as my mom, I was hooked. That year was also a tough one though, because that's when my dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer. After he passed away, I was committed to becoming a doctor so that I could help people like him, and provide compassionate care that he did not always receive from his own doctors. I still was interested in genetics, especially after learning from Grey's Anatomy that hereditary stomach cancer predispositions exist and can lead to earlier cancers like my dad's. However, other than being a geneticist (which I knew was incredibly specialized and competitive, and would take years to accomplish if I managed to get a residency at all), I didn't know how I could combine my passion for genetics with my desire to help people, since working in a lab felt too disconnected from patients for my liking. And so, I went through my undergraduate studies planning to become a family physician or a pediatrician. It wasn't until I almost finished my undergraduate degree that I learned about genetic counseling. This was a career that I could see fitting both my passion for helping others, and for learning about genetics. Generally speaking, genetic counselors are involved in explaining genetics concepts that are relevant to the patient, explaining to patients what information can (and cannot) be learned through genetic testing, interpreting genetic test results and their implications for patients, and emotionally supporting patients throughout this whole (potentially life-altering) process. It took three application cycles to be accepted into a program, but it was completely worth it. I am loving what I am learning, and soon I'll be starting rotations where I'll get to start using what I've learned so far in practice (with supervision). This isn't a world-changing career that I am pursuing. My mom still thinks that if I really want to make a difference in the world and help others like my dad, that I should try to cure cancer. But to me, making a difference in the lives of individuals who are learning about personal health implications as a result of their genes, by teaching them and supporting them emotionally, is a worthwhile cause. Even helping one patient at a time truly understand information that is crucial to their health, I believe it makes a positive impact on the world. And I hope that as a genetic counselor, I'll be able to help as many people as I can.

"Your dad has cancer." Those words, and that memory, will be etched in my mind forever. My dad was in the hospital and supposed to have a straightforward surgery to clear some kind of blockage, and I was waiting to hear how it went. Instead, I found out my dad was dying - stage four cancer isn't something that most people get through, let alone gastric cancer with a 3% 5-year survival rate. But he fought so hard to stay with our family for as long as he could. I was in high school back then, and it was already a stressful time with trying to get perfect grades, participating in as many school clubs as I could, playing on the flag football team, and captaining my soccer team. With his diagnosis though, I was worried all the time, and tried to help out by taking care of my younger siblings (my youngest sibling was only six years old at the time), making sure my dad took his medications on time, and trying to help my parents understand all the medical jargon with my high school biology knowledge. My dad fought for just over a year before he passed away in my senior year of high school. He was only 45. As if that wasn't an awful enough experience on its own, seeing my dad in so much pain throughout that year and then trying to cope with his death, I had also seen on television that younger ages of cancer could be related to a hereditary cancer syndrome. If that was the case for my dad, that could mean that my siblings and I would have a higher risk of getting cancer too, which was (and still is) a terrifying thought. I had wanted to be a doctor, until I learned about genetic counseling. As a doctor I would be more involved in diagnosis and treatment, but I really wanted to pursue medicine so that I could help people going through difficult medical diagnoses actually understand what was happening to them, and to be there as an emotional support. I loved helping educate people when volunteering as a peer tutor during my undergraduate studies, and I could really feel the difference I was making when volunteering as a crisis text line responder. In genetic counseling, I could help educate patients about important things that affect their own health and answer their questions, while also being trained to support them emotionally through such difficult times. Talking to a genetic counselor would have been so helpful to me if I had known about their existence, so I am confident that I will be able to truly make a difference in the lives of others by pursuing this career path. It took me three long years of applying and interviewing to match to a program in this competitive field, but I finally made it. I'm almost done my first year, and I will soon be starting rotations where I will continue learning more about the best ways to convey important health information, and support patients through that. When I'm done, I want to be a cancer genetic counselor, to help families going through cancer diagnoses like mine. It's not a huge money-making career, but this is where my passion lies, so any help in paying off my student debt would be truly appreciated.

Graduate school is flying by, I can't believe I am almost finished my first year as a genetic counseling student at Sarah Lawrence College. I'm 25 years old, and have a perfect 4.0 GPA in my program so far. Genetic counseling isn't a well-known field; I didn't know about it myself until about five years ago. In a number of medical areas, including cancer, pediatrics, and prenatal, genetics can play a significant role, but it is also a very specialized area, and many general practitioners are less knowledgeable of its intricacies. This is where genetic counselors (GCs) come in. Part of their job is to help gather the appropriate information from patients and other providers to perform the best possible risk assessment and to order appropriate types of genetic testing. What I believe is the more important part though, is that GCs are trained in communicating this information to patients, so they can truly understand their own health, and have someone who can support them through obtaining the potentially life-altering knowledge that can be gathered through genetic testing. This latter aspect is what drew me to this field. Initially I wanted to go to medical school. I was fascinated by human biology and genetics when in high school and had already been considering medicine, when my dad was diagnosed with stage four cancer. I wanted to help my dad so badly, but there wasn't a lot I could do, except try to learn as much as I could about what he was going through. Him and my mom both lacked a background understanding of science, and they didn't really understand what the doctors were telling them half the time. So, when I could help explain things, that's what I did. I had assumed that meant medicine had to be the path for me, even if I couldn't stand the sight of blood. I wanted to be able to help others like my parents not only by diagnosing them and doing what I could to fix them, but also to really be able to communicate in an effective way that would support them. However, I learned that was an idealistic dream, because realistically the health care system doesn't give enough time for doctors to do a physical exam, gather all the information they need, and give thorough explanations all the time. Then I learned about genetic counseling, where appointments are intentionally made longer, so the GC not only has the time to do an assessment, but they can actually explain from the ground up what a genetic diagnosis could mean for the individual themselves and their family, explain what genetic testing can versus cannot tell them with higher clarity, and discuss if genetic testing is really something they want to pursue. Going into genetic counseling means that I'll be able to explain genetics concepts properly to people, so they can actually understand what is happening in their own bodies. So instead of feeling lost and confused, like my parents did when trying to understand my dad's cancer diagnosis, I can help people feel informed, and empower them with information so that they can make their own decisions. Everyone deserves to be able to understand what's going on in their own bodies, and that knowledge is crucial for enabling people to make the best informed choices that they can.

Saying that cancer sucks is the understatement of the century. In some way or form, cancer affects everyone, whether it is personally, or a friend or family member. I lost my dad to gastric cancer eight years ago, when he was only 45. Initially this led me to wanting to be a doctor, but I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to handle watching person after person go through what my dad had faced. A few years ago though, I learned of genetic counseling instead. It took multiple rounds of applying, but I am now in my first year of genetic counseling master's degree. We do not specialize while in the program with respect to what area of genetics we learn about, but I am confident that I want to work in cancer genetics when I graduate. In a perfect world, I would love to work at the Princess Margaret Cancer Center in Toronto, Ontario. That's where my dad went for his cancer treatments, and where I shadowed genetic counselors when learning about genetic counseling. I'd definitely want to be in a patient-facing role where I can still help people through similar experiences to myself and my family when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. However, I would also like to be involved in research and investigate genetic predispositions to gastric cancers. Some things are known, such as rare mutations in CDH1 causing hereditary diffuse gastric cancer syndrome. But other than that, hereditary gastric cancer has seemed to be an off-target effect that is learned about when researching other genetic syndromes such as Lynch syndrome, which are more commonly associated with other cancers, but do increase the risk of gastric cancer. I want to do more, and find gene associations that are most connected to gastric cancer.

Growing up, it was always a toss-up between considering myself a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin - I'd often go back and forth, and on those Sorting Hat tests where they show your percentage of each house, it was always neck-and-neck between the two. During my undergraduate studies, I felt I was more on the Slytherin side. I wanted to go to medical school and was incredibly ambitious regarding my grades, needing to maintain as close to a perfect GPA as possible. I joined numerous clubs, volunteered at as many hospital settings as I could, got research experience, had a part-time job, and was at the 90th percentile for completing the MCAT. I was a bit cutthroat when it came to competing with others for positions, despite medicine typically being a field where people generally want to help others as much as they can. I did love learning and I wanted to use my knowledge to help people, but I also wanted to be the best and be the one in charge. At that time in my life, I was Slytherin, until I couldn't handle the emotional devastation from being so competitive, but failing to get into medical school no matter how hard I worked. I ended up temporarily in a program related to medicine that I hated, but it did make me realize that I would have been terrified of all the liability I would have as a doctor. And that drastically changed my perspective on life. While in that other program, I started to just focus on my interests, in an environment where I didn't need to compete with others because while they wanted to succeed there, I was indifferent since I disliked the program. I still loved learning about genetics, and any time that topic came up in class I would do extra readings to learn about it. I sought out shadowing experience within the field of genetics so that I could learn about genetic counseling, not just to make me competitive for applying to those programs, but because I actually wanted to be there and learn what was happening and see what kind of role genetic counselors play in the clinical setting. Without that same attitude of being competitive and wanting to be in charge, I think the typical Ravenclaw qualities of curiosity, intelligence, and cleverness described me much better. I still wanted to gain knowledge to use it to help others, but also I sought out knowledge just because I found the content I was learning about fascinating. I was thrilled when I was accepted into the genetic counseling program, and now I can spend much more time reading and learning about content that I am interested in. Even when not reading non-fiction, I still enjoy reading, the typical Ravenclaw pastime. In my spare time, I typically read (and re-read) Harry Potter fanfiction. Whether a more light-hearted story by Robst, or the intense story "Broken Mind, Fractured Soul" where Harry has multiple personality disorder, I have spent hundreds of hours (if not more) reading Harry Potter. And if that doesn't make me a Ravenclaw, I don't know what does.

Whenever a professional school essay or job interview has asked me about a struggle or challenging time in my life, I immediately think back to my senior year of high school. My dad had been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, and my life as I knew it previously had undergone drastic changes. I went from being a fairly responsible eldest sibling whose main responsibilities were working hard at school and doing my best on my competitive soccer team, to being essentially an extra adult in the household. I needed to take care of my elementary school-aged younger siblings (packing lunches, taking them to school, making sure they did their homework, etc.), make sure my dad was taking his medications and keeping an eye on him, and I was worrying a lot about him, on top of my schooling and extracurriculars for university applications. I was determined to be able to do it all though, caring for my family and maintaining my grades and extracurriculars. At the beginning of March break that year was when everything changed again. I had been looking forward to spending most of that week with my dad, and we had gotten into a routine. For someone with terminal cancer, he was fairly stable, and the cancer wasn’t progressing much. But then while I was visiting a friend’s house, he went into septic shock and was on life support for two weeks before he passed away. I honestly don't know how I was able to persevere at that time, but somehow I did. My immediate family and close friends were a huge help, but I was still motivated to make my dad proud, even if he wasn't there anymore to see me succeed. During that time of my life, I learned a lot of coping and time management skills, but the main things I learned were to prioritize and not take anything for granted. Most of the time, I would prioritize school, because it felt like my family would always be there while coursework always had a sense of urgency to it. I worked incredibly hard at school, and I’m proud of that because my grades and application were good enough to earn scholarships to pay for the majority of my tuition. However, I earned that at the cost of having more time to spend with my dad. If I could re-do those years, I’m not saying I would completely change things. It’s still important to work hard, and being able to cover as much of my tuition as I did has greatly helped from a financial perspective. Instead, I would make sure I took more time to truly appreciate my dad and the rest of my family, and enjoy the time I had with them. Looking forward, I try to be more aware of who and what in my life I take for granted, so I don’t miss out on the most important parts of my life, or have any more regrets.

Everyone knows about the famous Starbucks pumpkin spice latte. Where I'm from, ordering it was essentially synonymous with being a "basic white girl," alongside wearing leggings and uggs in the autumn weather. Up until last year, I resisted trying any of the pumpkin spice drinks, just because of this "basic" reputation. I finally ended up trying the pumpkin spice creme frappuccino for the first time when I was also starting a new chapter in my life. I had just moved a few hours away from home to start a new program in the middle of the pandemic. I honestly had no interest in trying a new drink, it felt like I was already going through enough change and I wanted some consistency from before moving. I went to order my usual, but it was unavailable, and I was put on the spot about what I wanted to order instead. Hence; the pumpkin spice creme frappuccino. Interestingly, getting something other than my first choice drink mirrored how I felt about my life at the time. I wasn't accepted to any of the programs I truly wanted to be in, and this program I had just started was my last resort. Unlike that program, the pumpkin spice creme frappuccino ended up being a good choice. The pumpkin spice latte is associated with much more positive memories. That's because it is the fall drink of choice for my boyfriend, the best part that came out of me moving for school. On one of our earliest dates, we went to Starbucks and that was what he ordered while I got the pumpkin spice creme frappuccino (since personally I'm not the biggest fan of hot coffee drinks). There were no seats available in that Starbucks, so we walked around a nearby park instead. It was pretty chilly that evening, so he offered to swap drinks to help me stay warm. It was so sweet of him to do, and it really showed me how kind and caring he was. That was just under a year ago. I was accepted into a different college program, which I love so much more than the program that I was in. But, I am still in a truly fulfilling and happy relationship with this guy I met while studying there. We are now in a long-distance relationship since I had to move again, but meeting him was by far the best part of having moved for that program. Starbucks is relatively expensive so I save it for special occasions, but for our first virtual date of the autumn season we are each going to a nearby Starbucks, and getting our pumpkin spice drinks together.

My dream future self would be a successful genetic counselor in a major cancer research hospital, where I would be supporting individuals with hereditary cancer risk through difficult times, while also earning enough to spend my vacation days traveling the world.