When I was five years old my dad and I got our first dog. He was a Jack Russel terrier pug mix and full of more energy than either of us could have expected. When we brought him home, all he could do was run. In fact, he’d run so much he’d trip over himself and do summersaults. Inspired by his reckless enthusiasm, I decided to name him Tuck N’ Roll, Tuck for short. I was very weak as a child, so my ability to play was limited, but Tuck was one of the greatest joys to have in my life. I was only able to love Tuck for about a year before I was diagnosed with leukemia. My family had to make the difficult decision to send Tuck to a family friend’s ranch since we wouldn’t be able to care for him anymore. As we packed our belongings preparing to leave for Children’s Hospital, I put Tuck in his kennel and said good-bye to him for the last time. I never saw him again. I loved that dog more than anything, but I kept him in my heart as I received chemotherapy. Years into remission, I started to miss Tuck and with a baby brother crawling around, our family decided it was time for another dog. My aunt’s bull mastiff had a litter of puppies and they were all so precious, just the breed we were looking for. Out of all the puppies, the runt of the litter stood out the most. His love was endless and we knew he’d protect our growing family well. We took him home and called him Zoli. I don’t know what I’d do without Zoli in my life, but I like to believe Tuck sent him to me to make up for the time we could have had together. For a long time, I struggled with anxiety. As a young adult in college, I feel the pressures of stress more often than I ever did as a child. I have to take breaks and calm myself down to keep from getting too overwhelmed. On difficult days when my anxiety is at its peak and all I can do is break down and cry, I know Zoli is there to comfort me. Somehow, he knows when I’m feeling my lowest. There have been times when I’ve been working at my desk battling the pressures of due dates and meeting expectations and my chest tightens. The stress starts to get to me and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I turn to get up from my chair and there’s Zoli, sitting patiently next to me. He puts his head in my lap and looks up at me as if to say, “Everything is going to be ok.” I don’t know how, but whenever I feel like breaking down Zoli always knows to come find me. He even lifts his paw up to my shoulder as if trying to give me a hug. I know Zoli won’t be around forever; his muzzle is turning gray and his hips are starting to give out. Nevertheless, he’s taught me how to be brave when life feels overwhelming. Like Tuck, he’s filled my heart with warmth and joy. When the time comes to continue my journey without Zoli, I know to keep those feelings close to my heart because my love for that dog can get me through anything.

For as long as I can remember, I have always admired Cinderella. From her unfortunate beginning to her happily ever after, everything about her resonated with me. When I was little I had a Cinderella dress I used to wear constantly; I even have pictures of me wearing it to my fifth birthday party! I think a lot of people overlook her as being a popular Disney character. After all, she was stuck doing all the household chores, had her late mother’s dress torn apart, and was consistently bullied by her only remaining family. To me, however, she was everything I strived to be. Not a scullery maid, but a woman with a heart of gold. Throughout her life, Cinderella had thousands of opportunities to change the way she was treated. She could have expressed hatred towards her stepmother for her cruelty, but she chose to be kind. When I am faced with life’s obstacles and I feel angry and frustrated, I think of Cinderella and her loving kindness in the face of adversity. I have always lived in a low-income family. As a first-generation college student, financing my education has been a challenge. I work part-time to help pay for school, but it never feels like enough. There were years when my family didn’t know if they’d be able to afford Christmas presents. I try my best to make enough money to help my family as well as pay for school, but it’s not easy. There are days when I feel like I can’t keep up, whether it’s at work alongside my co-workers or at school surrounded by my peers. Now and again, someone crosses my path to push me down and frustrate me. When I feel like the world is against me, I want to fight back and make them pay for doing me wrong. When I feel like this, I try to remember Cinderella. She probably felt the same way I did, but chose kindness over revenge. Every single day of her young life was a challenge, she was never once spared sympathy or compassion by her stepmother and sisters. If Cinderella can overcome her mistreatment on a daily basis with her gentle heart, then I can face my harsh days with a few kind words just the same. As I continue to reach for my goals, I keep Cinderella and her story close at heart.

Becoming a cancer survivor put me in a unique position. I got to work with doctors and specialists all from different fields of medicine. Their skill, their determination, and their love helped save my life and many others. Because of that, I like to believe I am a part of their legacies. They spent most of their lives becoming the heroes they are today, their compassion for their work gives them the strength to go above and beyond. They will leave marks on the world, saving my life, for example, and these will be the stories they tell for future generations; these will be the legacies they leave behind. To me, a legacy is a story of a life well-lived. It’s a collection of triumphs, achievements, and memories, like a commemorative statue telling a tale of who I was and what I did to change the world for the better. Not just anyone can leave a legacy, let alone a story to remember. Leaving behind a legacy means following your heart to the ends of the earth until you reach your goals. It means getting pushed down again and again but still rising to meet the next challenge ahead. It means becoming the change I want to see in the world, no matter how difficult the journey is to get there. Creating a legacy for myself is easier said than done, but not impossible. It’s important that I leave a legacy behind; I nearly lost my life before it could even begin and I’m alive today to live it to the fullest. As a childhood cancer survivor, I’m grateful every day for the life I have and I am determined to use it to do something good. Having cancer was horrible and dramatically life-changing. Unfortunately, I suffered infertility as a consequence of the chemotherapy I received as a child; I want to help create a world through my work and research where childhood cancer treatment is survivable without major complications like this. I want to play a role in the fight against cancer. I want to believe I have the power to change people’s lives and I want the greatest of those changes to become my legacy as a childhood cancer survivor and a woman in STEM. Growing up a cancer survivor, I was always in and out of doctor's appointments. Since I was six years old, I’ve been exposed to the world of STEM in hospitals, clinics, and surgery rooms. I’ve gotten the opportunity to ask my doctors and nurses all kinds of questions about their jobs, the machines they use, and the treatments they provide. I was lucky enough to have an inside look into the medical field at the cost of having cancer as a kindergartener. Since then, I fell in love with biology in school and excelled in all things biomedical science. My career has been driven by my survivorship, both in pride for who I am and in survivor’s guilt for being alive when others aren’t. I fought for my life and won, and I want to use my life to inspire change and advancement in today’s cancer research. Childhood cancer can change a kid’s life dramatically, setting the stage for problems down the road both mentally and physically. I want my efforts to inspire brighter futures for childhood cancer patients, both in their treatments and remissions. I understand not everyone can win their battles indefinitely, I’ve seen it first hand. Even if I can't get rid of cancer forever, I want to enrich the lives of those I can save.

I used to struggle a lot with math. The lectures my teacher gave were hard to understand and I always got lost. The homework was just as difficult, sometimes even impossible. It was hard to ask for help because I felt embarrassed admitting I didn’t know what to do when everyone else did. Whenever I asked a question in class I would hear groans and complaints from my classmates; they all seemed to think it was so easy and obvious. No one ever wanted to work with me and, to avoid unwanted attention, I stopped participating in class. Something was missing from my learning and it was preventing me from succeeding. When I got a D- in 6th-grade math, my dad stepped in to help me back on track. We spent a few hours every day practicing the topics I did so poorly in, writing and solving equations over and over until I mastered them. We did this for weeks until things finally started making sense. My grade the next semester was an A. I remember the day I told my dad the wonderful news. He smiled and told me I was smarter than I thought and not to give up when things get hard. Math used to be hard, and it still is sometimes, but I never give up trying. As a young woman, I am determined to succeed in the STEM field no matter what obstacles I face. I want to become a laboratory scientist and work with blood and cancer cells, so naturally, math and chemistry will play huge roles in my education. Luckily, math in science is easy for me to understand; I can memorize formulas and follow mathematical patterns to solve equations without too much difficulty. Now in college, I realize more than ever how important it is to practice my math skills. By persevering through my education, I am hopeful I will achieve my goals. Becoming a laboratory scientist will be the hardest thing I have ever done and I know I will struggle along the way, but putting my all into learning and understanding mathematics will take me farther than I ever thought possible. Just like in math, my brain finds patterns in all kinds of things. Whenever I face a problem, I use logic and patterns to solve it just like I would a math equation. Life, like math, can be difficult and frustrating and I feel like giving up sometimes. I take time to remind myself how strong I am as a woman, how capable I am, and how smart I am. I refuse to give up and try to look at the problem another way until I resolve it. The world is filled with difficult problems for me to face, but math has taught me never to give up on them. I know I can overcome the difficult challenges ahead of me because I am a woman in STEM and I am stronger and more powerful than I ever thought possible.

My ambition is to become a medical lab scientist and work with blood cells in a laboratory setting. In college, I’ve been taking several lab-based courses that have introduced me to several kinds of fascinating technology. There was one biology class, in particular, that had us working on a single lab project throughout the quarter. We utilized different techniques to cultivate and analyze bacterial DNA using gel electrophoresis. First, we had to isolate the DNA. Then, we used a process called Sanger sequencing to identify the sequence of nucleotides along a single strand of DNA. We used DNA primer, polymerase, and heat to accomplish this. To actually analyze the DNA, we coped the strand into small segments using a technique called PCR, or polymerase chain reaction. The PCR process occurs in three steps: denaturation, annealing, and DNA synthesis. By the end of this process, there should be two separate double-stranded DNA segments. The cycle can now repeat itself, using two strands of DNA for starting material instead of one. Naturally, this process occurring over and over leads to an exponential growth in DNA, which is great for detailed in-depth analysis. PCR is incredibly important in some laboratory procedures; it can help detect viruses, genetic disorders, and diseases, and can also be used in DNA fingerprinting procedures. In our lab, we used PCR to identify different genetic materials among the same bacterial DNA in order to set them apart. In today’s world, PCR testing can be used to detect COVID-19 genetic material in human DNA. Furthermore, the process of gel electrophoresis proves the differences in DNA by showing the lengths of certain genetic sequences; we can compare the DNA of a healthy individual and an individual with a virus by simply looking at their DNA. After performing gel electrophoresis for the first time in high school and then PCR in college, I fell in love with the laboratory. As a childhood leukemia survivor, I knew I wanted to work with blood cells and after participating in such a fascinating biomedical sciences lab, I was instantly inspired. Using technology like this, I want to contribute to the efforts being made to find a cure for leukemia. By exploring DNA sequences and how leukemia makes itself known in the body, I hope to make the world a better place as a woman in STEM.

Stress can be a major obstacle for me when I’m trying to get through my week. It makes me anxious and I get a tight feeling in my chest when I don’t deal with it soon enough. Whether I’m at work or at school, I have to remind myself to take breaks and calm myself down. Many people who deal with stress develop coping mechanisms to relieve themselves. From breathing techniques to going on walks, I try to find methods for dealing with my anxiety that support my health and well being. However, I don’t always manage to keep a perfect record. Having a healthy snack is a great way to keep my brain fueled and engaged, but giving in to my comfort foods makes me tired, unmotivated, and depressed. In class, I struggle to stay focused and I let my grade suffer the consequences. At work, I lack the energy to go above and beyond for my team and my customers and I worry about disappointing them. My physical and mental health is jeopardized when I eat too many comfort foods; I add more stress to my life than necessary because of the impulsive choices I make in moments of weakness. It’s important to me that I maintain healthy eating habits in order to work harder and feel happier in my everyday life, not just for my sake but for the people in my life who depend on me. I remember going through long periods of depression where nothing made me feel happy and I never felt like accomplishing anything. I always felt hopeless and afraid of the future because I never felt like I was enough. I would go weeks at a time feeling this way, not knowing how to take care of myself or who to turn to for help. In a desperate attempt to inspire some change, I cut out my unhealthy comfort foods and ate very little outside of meal times. I gradually started snacking again, but on healthy things like trail mix, cheese, fruit, and vegetables. I noticed little by little as my life became more hopeful. Things that easily overwhelmed me before seemed less intimidating and I felt like I could handle them with more confidence. When stress started to get to me, I knew exactly what to do to manage it in a healthy way. I realized when I take care of myself and eat right, my day to day life is a lot easier to manage and more fun because of it. Instead of waking up groggy and depressed, I start my day feeling energized and motivated. I’m able to tackle my schoolwork without feeling overwhelmed and I find myself participating in class more often. At work, I feel more enthusiastic and can exceed expectations because I’m more lively and hard-working. Today, as I continue to practice healthy eating habits, I appreciate the ways it has influenced my mental health. I graduated with my first degree and I was promoted at work, all because of the healthy mindset I maintained and the effort I was able to put in. My daily routine has been enriched by my diet maintenance and it’s made me happier because of it.

As a child, I loved school more than anything. I loved the class activities and the homework assignments; it was never busy work to me, it was always fun. When I was diagnosed with leukemia, it felt like I didn’t know anything about what was happening to me. Cancer doesn’t exactly make sense to a kindergartener, so what better way to learn than to ask the professionals themselves? After all, being poked and prodded to no end can raise a lot of questions. Rather than letting fear take over, I let curiosity take the wheel. Leukemia is a cancer of the blood, which meant I had to get my blood drawn. A lot. I never enjoyed it, especially when I was younger. One of my many doctors knelt to my level as I struggled to let the needle near my skin. He asked me, “Do you want to know why we need your blood?” Though I hated every moment of the process, I admitted I was curious. After he drew a few samples, the doctor took me to a room filled with microscopes. He put a drop of my blood on a glass slide and placed it on one of the stages. “Take a look,” he told me. I peered down the scope and let out a tiny gasp. My blood was moving! Hundreds of cells were floating around the slide, I could hardly believe it. I was beyond baffled, excited, and curious to learn more. The doctor packaged the slide in a case to keep it preserved and gave it to me. Today, the slide sits on my desk as a reminder of all that I’ve accomplished and the goals I have yet to achieve. The world around me is incredibly vast and complicated. Millions, no, trillions of books could be filled with the knowledge hidden in every nook and cranny of the world. It would take centuries to master every skill, every secret, and every story. There is no greater satisfaction than chasing a burning curiosity, working hard to understand it, and coming out of it learning something new. Education is built on a desire to learn and develop new skills; that kind of passion gets me out of bed in the morning. A day without learning is a day wasted, so I strive to learn something new every day. Winning my battle against cancer catalyzed my desire to learn, from a spark to a raging fire. On the road to becoming a hematologist, I understand the importance of a proper education and I face the challenge head-on. Blind, childish curiosity got me through one of the darkest parts of my life and the education that follows is driving my career goals, it’s the cornerstone of my life. I want nothing more than to pursue it, using each day I’m alive as an opportunity to learn something new.

As a child, I loved school more than anything. I loved the class activities and the homework assignments; it was never busy work to me, it was always fun. When I was diagnosed with leukemia, I had to learn to find fun in asking the doctors and nurses dozens upon dozens of questions. Cancer doesn’t exactly make sense to a kindergartener, what better way to learn than to ask the professionals themselves? After all, being poked and prodded to no end can raise a lot of questions. Rather than letting fear take over I let curiosity take the wheel. Leukemia is a cancer of the blood, which meant I had to get my blood drawn. A lot. I never enjoyed it, especially when I was younger. One of my many doctors knelt to my level as I struggled to allow him to take my blood. He asked me, “Do you want to know why we need your blood?” Though I hated every moment of the process, I admitted I was curious. After he drew a few samples, the doctor took me to a room filled with microscopes. He put a drop of my blood on a glass slide and placed it under one of them. “Take a look,” he told me. I peered down the scope and let out a tiny gasp. My blood was moving! Hundreds of cells were floating around the slide, I could hardly believe it. I was beyond baffled, excited, and curious to learn more. The doctor packaged the slide in a case that would keep it preserved and gave it to me as a gift. Today, the slide sits on my desk as a reminder of all that I’ve accomplished and the goals I have yet to achieve. Cancer inspired me to live my life to the fullest, especially being so young. I joined a concert band as a saxophone player and experienced the grand world of music. I snatched every opportunity I could to attend extracurricular science field trips, including summer medical internships and cadaver tours. I participated in sports like basketball and swimming and played in the pep band for other sporting events. I actively participate in writing competitions and sometimes act as a judge. Occasionally I work with organizations like Cancer Pathways and Cancer for College and participate in their survivorship events. When I'm looking for an escape, I refine my crafting skills with my grandma or hike in the mountains with friends. Whatever I'm doing, I'm always reminded how blessed I am to be alive. The world around me is incredibly vast and complicated. Millions, no, trillions of books could be filled with the knowledge hidden in every nook and cranny of the world. It would take centuries to master every skill, every secret, and every story. There is no greater satisfaction than chasing a burning curiosity, working hard to understand it, and coming out of it learning something new. A day without learning is a day wasted, so I strive to learn something new every day. Winning my battle against cancer catalyzed my desire to learn, from a spark to a raging fire. Blind, childish curiosity got me through one of the darkest parts of my life and the education that follows is driving my career goals, it’s the cornerstone of my life. I want nothing more than to pursue it, using each day I’m alive as an opportunity to learn something new.

What I want more than anything in the world is to learn how to analyze blood cells. I was only six years old when I was diagnosed with leukemia and since then it has shaped my life in more ways than I ever thought possible. Constantly exposed to the medical world, I was learning all kinds of things about cancer and I was always determined to learn more. With a near-death experience under my belt before the first grade, I was already beginning to realize how much I appreciated my life and all the wonders that came with it. I was lucky enough to win my battle alive and healthy, but I have seen what failure looks like and I intend to make sure I never have to see it again. If there’s even a chance I can help find a cure, I would take it without hesitation. For that reason, I am currently working towards becoming a medical laboratory scientist. I want to work in pediatric oncology and hematology to prevent future cases of childhood cancer, in honor of my journey and my friends who have passed. I understand I cannot accomplish my goals alone, which is why I'm so grateful to have my family's everlasting support. Neither of my parents attended college and neither of them have the financial stability to help me through medical school. Regardless, they will find small ways to help along my journey however they can. I work part-time jobs, apply for grants and scholarships, and use whatever leftover money I have to help out my family whenever I can. They sacrificed so much for me, especially during my cancer treatment. It's true my career goals are extremely important to me, but it's just as important that I do something nice for them one day. Their retirement ought to be as luxurious as I can make it. A career in the medical field requires a great investment of time and funds, yet I am prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve my dream. With the state of the world, I decided to pursue my Associates in Biology at a local community college; this way I can stay home, help support my family, and focus on saving money for my higher education. Especially in times as uncertain as these, I understand how hard I must work to reach my goals. Receiving a grant to help with college would take the financial stress off my shoulders, allowing me to focus on building my career and reestablishing myself as a successful woman in STEM. I will be able to refine my skills in biomedical science, opening new windows of opportunity for campus research projects, internships, and job shadows. Hands-on experience, above all else, will help me develop those skills; I would invest every penny of the grant in my educational costs to take advantage of these opportunities. I have dedicated my life to saving other young cancer victims and I do not intend to be stopped in my tracks by a few four-digit numbers. Every moment I live and breathe I am reminded of the people whose long hours of strenuous effort saved my life. I will perfect my skills in operating medical equipment as well as analyzing blood cells to hopefully help rid the world of cancer someday and save hundreds of lives in the process. Given a grant, I could accomplish this and much more.

I will never take my life for granted after staring death in the face. Every breath, every sight, every sound, every moment in time is a new cherished memory that I hold very precious to my heart. I watch the people around me staring down at their phones, trapped in an endless cycle of incoming text messages and social media posts. They waste hours a day trying to become "TikTok famous," glued to the idea that life is supremely better with a device in their hands. To me, life cannot be truly experienced through the lenses of a screen. The world is constantly changing, blooming and rotting simultaneously, and no one bothers to lift their heads to witness it. So many people take the beautiful parts of life for granted without ever considering that one day it will all be gone. After surviving cancer, I refuse to die without living a full and exciting life. I fought hard for my life and I want to live it the way it was intended to be lived: enriched with countless adventures that heighten the senses and free the mind. I have a bucket list. Over the years, I have added to it little by little. There are things I want to do and skills I want to learn and I'm grateful to have a whole lifetime to do them. I have so many adventures to look forward to, but sadly motherhood won't be one of them. Radiation therapy created a lot of complications for my developing reproductive system; having children naturally won't be an option for me in the future. At first, I was disappointed and frustrated, but then I realized something important: my body does not define me. I don't have to be a mother to live a full life. I can focus on going to school and building my career to become a woman others can look up to. I will continue to build pride and confidence as I learn and grow, living each moment to the fullest. Every item on my bucket list will be crossed off before I die and I'll have a story to tell for each of them. Experiencing life means taking a moment to myself to take in the world. The best way I do this is by surrounding myself with nature. Going on mountain hikes or road trips along the west coast gives me time to embrace the fresh air and sunshine hitting my face; it awakens my senses and reminds me how blessed I am to be alive. These moments are the force that drives me. The rare moments where I get to remember why life is so worth living drive me to push through incoming challenges and mental struggles. Refusing to take for granted all of life's wonders and insignificant details drive me to push forward and experience everything I can before I die. Waking up to the thought of new adventures is my consistent inspiration.

Our first arrival at Children's Hospital was welcomed with a team of anxious doctors waiting to get their hands on me accompanied by a staggering list of terrifying tests and sickening-sounding medicines to give me. The nurses talked fast and used big words I couldn't understand. They snatched me up and started poking and prodding, exchanging long dialogues of "doctor-speak" wearing expressions of worry. I knew I was sick, but I was expecting a dose of cough syrup and a week of bed rest, not a never-ending trip to a hospital miles from my home where everything is wrong and no one is happy. I was only six years old, I didn't understand, and sometimes it became too much. I remember crying. I remember screaming and crying and cowering away from the doctors who only wanted to help me, but they looked so scary in their lab coats with their tools and needles and alien language that didn't make sense to anyone. Why was cancer so scary? Why couldn't I go home? I remember crying a lot, but my dad was always there to save me. He would get between me and the doctor, even at times when he wasn't allowed, and he would furiously yell, "You do NOT get to touch her until she is ok!" My dad would hold me and calm me down and together we'd talk about what the doctor wanted to do. He would translate all the strange nonsense the doctor told me to words I could understand; he constantly reminded me no one would ever try and hurt me here. My dad has always been my protector, my hero, and my guide; I don't know what I would do without him. My dad was a single parent while I was diagnosed with cancer. My grandma would take care of me at the hospital while my dad worked any and all shifts he could get his hands on. He worked for hours on end but worked even harder when he came home to find extra ways to pay our hospital bills. He set up fundraisers in our hometown community, contacted all our friends, family, and co-workers for help, and still managed to get ahead on rent so I would have a house to come home to. My dad is a relentlessly hard worker and never gives up trying, no matter how defeated and weary the world makes him feel. Even while I was in critical condition as my kidneys started failing, my dad never stopped fighting. My dad inspires me to work just as hard. After recovery and beginning to resume normal life, my dad was always there to help guide me. My dad is incredibly smart; he has a secret stash of books on his bedside table and spends most of his free time reading and watching informational videos online. He used to tutor me in math when I was struggling, we'd sometimes spend hours in the evening going over new and difficult concepts knowing I'd become a master by morning. Sure enough, I always got better test scores after a tutoring session. Today in college, my dad continues to be a beacon of knowledge for me as I stumble through the life of a young adult. From the moment we left the hospital, he has watched me grow up healthy and curious about the world around me, especially after learning just how bad my cancer experience was. He has encouraged and supported my college education, knowing I will utilize it to give back to the team that saved my life. My dad inspires me to learn as much as I can. Most of all, my dad has always taught me to be kind. I remember being in the hospital and receiving a stuffed puppy as a gift from someone. The puppy had golden fur that was soft to the touch, the perfect cuddle buddy. I was on my way to show my grandma the fantastic gift when I noticed someone in the room next to mine. It was a young girl, half-asleep under a pile of blankets with a string of fluids hanging by her bed; she looked sad. I remembered how scary it was to live in a hospital surrounded by machines and medicines that didn't make sense. I had my dad to comfort me and remind me that everything was going to be ok. At that moment, I tiptoed towards the girl and greeted her. I handed her my new stuffed dog and said, "Everything is going to be ok. He'll protect you." She smiled at me and hugged the dog so tight she giggled. She and I became best friends. Although she passed away a few years later, I will never forget the impact that one act of kindness made on both our lives. My dad inspires me to always be kind, no matter the circumstances. Without a role model like my dad, I don't think I'd be where I am today. I'm currently going to college to become a pediatric hematologist, I want to identify blood cancers in a laboratory setting and contribute to finding a cure. In the future, I want to work with Make-A-Wish specialists and participate in making "wishes" come true for young cancer patients, just as they did for me. I want to continue working with Cancer Pathways in any way I can to support the community of youth impacted by cancer. My dad is my cheerleader, encouraging me to reach for my dreams, to work hard, to always learn, and to be kind, no matter what. My dad is my protector, my hero, and my guide and I know I will make him proud.

Middle school was not the greatest time for me. I’m sure a lot of people can say the same. Between handling newfound responsibilities, fighting puberty, and just trying to find where I fit in made the entire experience uncomfortably awkward and difficult. I went to a different middle school than the other kids I grew up with, so I had to make new friends on top of everything else. Being a little 13-year-old girl desperate for personality and belonging led me to attract the wrong crowd; I didn’t know it at the time, but the friends I made would turn out to be cruel, mean-spirited people who had very little love for me. I was always kind to them, even when it seemed like they didn’t deserve it, and they took advantage of me. I tried to maintain some self-love to reassure myself I wasn’t a bad person, but they felt it was necessary to shame me. Within the first month of high school, all my friendships fell apart in a matter of minutes because of them, but one person stuck by my side through it all. This story is you, Sam. Before we graduated middle school, we had to say goodbye to one of our friends who was moving away; I’ll call her Hailey. I was overcome with sadness to see her go, she was my best friend at the time. We promised to keep in touch over the summer and give each other life updates and such, but we never did. The summer before my freshman year was silent and eerie, I hardly heard from her or any of our other friends. Once the school year started, I noticed a strange disconnect between Hailey’s friends and. Just a few months ago we were as close as could be, then all of a sudden it seemed like they didn’t even know me. Turns out Hailey was feeding lies to all our friends about me to isolate me and make me feel alone. I am a childhood cancer survivor, I take a lot of pride in being one and I show it. Hailey told everyone I made it all up for attention. One afternoon I gathered at our usual lunch table and waited for everyone to show up. No one came except for one boy whom Hailey was friends with, who looked seemingly disgusted with me. Almost like an intervention, he started reading a letter to me about what was wrong with me and why I was such a horrible person. Hailey fed him all those lies just to get rid of me. I remember crying uncontrollably for the rest of the day. I always tried to be a kind and caring friend, I didn’t understand why I deserved this. I sunk into a period of self-loathing that lasted for months. High school had only just started and I was more alone than ever. Well, almost alone. Sam was there for me when no one else was. He hugged me when I felt at my worst and spent time with me when no one else would. We ate lunch together and walked to classes together. Our friendship reassured me I wasn’t a bad person, no matter what anyone said. Sam stayed by my side as I gradually built new friendships and learned to love myself again, even through the darkness. He became family to me, like the older brother I never had. I never heard from Hailey or her nasty friends ever again and with Sam by my side, I became the woman I always knew I was.

I grew up watching a lot of movies from the ’80s including “The Princess Bride,” “Overboard,” “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” and so many more. However, nothing compares to the masterpiece that is “The Goonies.” Between the amazing cast, the exhilarating plot, and the catchy soundtrack by Cyndi Lauper, I was hooked from the start. My family and I even took a trip to Astoria where the movie was filmed and visited the jail where the Fratelli’s made their daring escape and Mikey’s house where it all began. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, “The Goonies” will always be my most favorite nostalgic classic. In the words of Mikey, “Our parents always do the bestest stuff for us, but right now they gotta do what’s right for them ‘cause it’s their time, THEIR TIME, up there. Down here, it’s our time, IT’S OUR TIME DOWN HERE.” When I was a little kid, I longed to get roped into some kind of crazy pirate adventure just like Mikey and his friends. I waited so patiently for “my time,” but it seemed like it would never come. Now as a young adult I realize “my time” has only just begun. I have my whole life ahead of me to have crazy adventures. My parents have always done what’s best for me and they will continue to be loving and supportive no matter what, but now it’s “my time” to create my own adventure, write my own story, and just have fun. I don’t have an ancient pirate map in my attic or a terrifyingly strong friend named Sloth, but I have enough inspiration and ambition to do the impossible. “The Goonies” is such a heartwarming reminder of that.

In high school, I loved being able to learn new things every day; today, I apply the same mindset to college and put my all into my studies. I graduated with a diploma and a plethora of facts under my belt, but in hindsight, I realize I only learned valuable life skills outside of the classroom. No high school teacher was going to teach me how to file my taxes or make doctor’s appointments, “adulting” was something I was going to have to figure out for myself. This meme in particular always makes me laugh because a lot of times I run into adult problems without a single clue on how to approach them and then someone will ask, “Didn’t they teach you this stuff in school?” True, high school provided me my basic set of knowledge, but the real learning comes from the journey of adulthood I now get to experience all on my own.

I am beyond blessed to be myself. I have come to learn that every mistake I make is a learning opportunity, every loss is a reason to be thankful, and every doubt is a reason to shoot for the stars. I love who I have become and the friends I have made who have shaped my life so deeply, but I didn’t always feel this way. It used to be really hard to accept myself, no matter what I did. I was never as pretty as the other girls at school; no one ever found me attractive. I was never popular and I didn’t have too many friends. I never felt like I fit in, especially because I felt so different being a childhood cancer survivor. A few years ago, I only had a few close friends and they all knew about my cancer history. I loved wearing cancer awareness shirts; I was proud of being a survivor and I wanted to show it whenever I could. One day, things changed. In hindsight, I know my old friends were mean-spirited people but as a young girl, I could have never guessed they would be so cruel. All of a sudden they wanted nothing to do with me, claiming I was lying to people about my cancer for attention. Like a command from the hive mind, the rumors spread, and every friend I thought I had disappeared. Suddenly I was left alone in the dark to reflect on what I possibly could have done to deserve this. I hated who I was. I didn’t make an effort to use makeup or dress nice because I thought I couldn’t be beautiful. It was so hard to make new friends. I kept to myself and tried to focus on school as best as I could. I felt isolated, not just at school but as a person; no one understood what it felt like to have had cancer and to be so proud of surviving it, no one understood just how important it was to me. No one, except one girl. We met on the high school swim team. I started a conversation out of politeness, but I didn’t think she liked me. We talked and gradually we started to connect. She told me her older brother had leukemia, just as I did! She even donated some of her bone marrow to him. I was hesitant, but I told her my cancer story and how I felt about being a survivor; she understood me completely. Living life from such a different perspective is difficult for other people to understand, but it doesn’t make us any less special, she told me. I didn’t feel so alone anymore with her around. I started to feel more comfortable wearing my cancer awareness pride again. She introduced me to her friends, all kind and supportive people just like her. I finally found somewhere I fit in. On the anniversary of my cancer treatment, I host a little party to celebrate my life and they always come out to show their endless love and support. In school, I started to realize my purpose. In science classes, I always went on field trips and hospital tours to understand more about the various medical professions out there. Given my history, I knew I wanted to give back to the medical community in any way I could. One summer internship, I remember walking through the halls of Mary Bridge Children’s Hospital and seeing kids fighting cancer at such a young age, just as I did. That day, something reignited in my heart; I wanted to work in pediatric oncology and save kids’ lives, just as the many doctors and nurses before did for me. Being a survivor gave me a unique perspective not many others have and I used it to lift myself out of depression and improve my mental health one day at a time. I surrounded myself with new friends who love and support me, I started making plans for projects to involve myself in the cancer community, and most of all I learned to love myself, from head to toe, unconditionally.

I am beyond blessed to be myself, even with all of my humiliating flaws. I have come to learn that every mistake I make is a learning opportunity, every loss is a reason to be thankful, and every doubt is a reason to shoot for the stars. I love who I have become and the friends I have made who have shaped my life so deeply, but I didn’t always feel this way. It used to be really hard to accept myself, no matter what I did. I was never as pretty as the other girls at school; no one ever found me attractive. I was never popular and I didn’t have too many friends. I never felt like I fit in, especially because I felt so different being a childhood cancer survivor. A few years ago, I only had a few close friends and they all knew about my cancer history. I loved wearing cancer awareness shirts and bandanas; I was proud of being a survivor and I wanted to show it whenever I could. One day, things changed. In hindsight, I know my old friends were mean-spirited people but as a young girl, I could have never guessed they would be so cruel. They distanced themselves from me, wanting nothing to do with me, claiming I was lying to people about my cancer for attention. Like a command from the hive mind, the rumors spread, and every friend I thought I had disappeared. Suddenly I was alone. I was left alone in the dark to reflect on what I possibly could have done to deserve this. I hated who I was. I hated my body, I hated the things cancer did to it, and I hated being so different as a survivor. I didn’t make an effort to use makeup or dress nice because I thought I couldn’t be beautiful. It was so hard to make new friends because I didn’t want them to know about my cancer treatment. I didn’t want to give anyone an opportunity to make me feel that horrible about myself ever again. I kept to myself and tried to focus on school as best as I could, feeling the weight of the stress on my shoulders constantly. I felt isolated, not just at school but as a person; no one understood what it felt like to have had cancer and to be so proud of surviving it, no one understood just how important it was to me. No one, except one girl. We met on the high school swim team. She sat next to me on the bus on the way to a tournament. I started a conversation out of politeness, but I didn’t think she liked me. We talked and talked, and gradually we started to connect. She told me her older brother had leukemia, just as I did! She even donated some of her bone marrow to him when she was young. I was hesitant, but I told her my cancer story and how I felt about being a survivor; she understood me completely. Being so different and living life from such a different perspective is difficult for other people to understand, but it doesn’t make us any less special, she told me. I didn’t feel so alone anymore with her around. I started to feel more comfortable wearing my cancer awareness pride again and she supported me one-hundred percent. She introduced me to her friends, all kind and supportive people just like her. I finally found somewhere I fit in. I began lifting myself out of depression, one day at a time, with a pack of loving people at my side. On the anniversary of my cancer treatment, I host a little party to celebrate my life and they always come out to show their endless love and support. In school, I started to realize my purpose. In science classes, I always went on field trips and hospital tours to understand more about the various medical professions out there. Given my history, I knew I wanted to give back to the medical community in any way I could. One summer internship, I remember walking through the halls of Mary Bridge Children’s Hospital and seeing kids fighting cancer at such a young age, just as I did. That day, something reignited in my heart; I wanted to work in pediatric oncology and save kids’ lives, just as the many doctors and nurses before did for me. Being a survivor gave me a unique perspective not many others have and I used it to lift myself out of depression and improve my mental health one day at a time. I surrounded myself with new friends who love and support me, I started making plans for projects to involve myself in the cancer community, and most of all I learned to love myself, from head to toe, unconditionally.

Becoming a cancer survivor made me special. I got to work with doctors and specialists all from different fields of medicine. Their skill, their determination, and their love helped save my life and many others. Because of that, I like to believe I am a part of their legacies. Those doctors spent most of their lives becoming the heroes they are today, their compassion for their work gives them the strength to go above and beyond. They will leave marks on the world, whether it’s in the form of groundbreaking medical research or lives saved, and these will be the stories they tell for future generations; these will be the legacies they leave behind. To me, a legacy is a story of a life well-lived. It’s a collection of triumphs, achievements, and memories, like a commemorative statue telling a tale of who I was and what I did to change the world for the better. Not just anyone can leave a legacy, let alone a story to remember. Leaving behind a legacy means following your heart to the ends of the earth until you reach your goals. Leaving behind a legacy means getting pushed down again and again but still rising to meet the next challenge ahead. Leaving behind a legacy means becoming the change I want to see in the world, no matter how difficult the journey is to get there. Creating a legacy for myself is easier said than done, but not impossible. It’s important that I leave a legacy behind, whether my story is known all over the world or just in my small town. Having cancer was horrible and life-changing and I never want another child to have to face it. I want to play a role in the fight against cancer, whether it’s contributing to cancer research as a lab scientist or battling on the front lines as a pediatric oncologist; I want my legacy to tell the story of the lives I helped save. I want people to hear my name and remember the caring and joyful spirit I carried as I helped people. I want people to remember me as a cancer survivor and the things I endured to earn my life back and the ways I enriched life for others. I want to believe I have the power to change people’s lives and I want the greatest of those changes to become my legacy. Years from now, I will be proud to tell my story and show people what I accomplished in my life. I will die happy knowing I made my mark on the world.

What I want more than anything in the world is to learn how to analyze blood cells. After being diagnosed with leukemia at age six, I knew I was destined to do something great with the life I fought for. My survivorship has shaped my life in more ways than I ever thought possible which is why I wanted to pursue a career to help others fight their battles with cancer. Constantly exposed to the medical world growing up, I was always learning about cancer and I was always determined to learn more. With a near-death experience under my belt before the first grade, I was already beginning to realize how much I appreciated my life and all the wonders that came with it. I was lucky enough to win my battle alive and healthy, but I have seen what failure looks like and I intend to make sure I never have to see it again. If there’s even a chance I can help find a cure, I would take it without hesitation. For that reason, I am currently working towards becoming a medical laboratory scientist; I’m currently earning my Associates in Biology before I pursue my Bachelors in Medical Technology. I want to work in pediatric oncology and hematology to prevent future cases of childhood cancer, in honor of my journey and my friends who have passed. When I was young, hundreds of people came together to save my life. People from all different fields of medicine worked tirelessly to make sure I could lead a normal healthy life. Earning my degree and entering the world of pediatric oncology alongside my heroes is my way of expressing my gratitude. I want to give my thanks while also helping to save the next generation of childhood cancer patients. Through my college education, research opportunities, job shadowing, internships, and more I will have the tools I need to build my career in the medical field, give thanks to my heroes, and work alongside them to be the change I want to see in the world.

I used to struggle a lot with math. The lectures my teacher gave were hard to understand and I always got lost. The homework was just as difficult, sometimes even impossible. It was hard to ask for help because I felt embarrassed admitting I didn’t know what to do when everyone else did. Whenever I asked a question in class I would hear groans and complaints from my classmates; they all seemed to think it was so easy and obvious. No one ever wanted to work with me and, to avoid unwanted attention, I stopped participating in class. Something was missing from my learning and it was preventing me from succeeding. When I got a D- in math, my dad stepped in to help me back on track. We spent a few hours every day practicing the topics I did so poorly in, writing and solving equations over and over until I mastered it. We did this for weeks until things finally started making sense. My grade that semester was an A. I remember the day I told my dad the wonderful news. He smiled and told me I was smarter than I thought and not to give up when things get hard. Math used to be hard, and it still is sometimes, but I never give up trying. As a young woman, I am determined to succeed in the STEM field no matter what obstacles I face. I want to become a laboratory scientist and work with blood and cancer cells, so naturally, math and chemistry will play huge roles in my education. Luckily, math in science is easy for me to understand; I can memorize formulas and follow mathematical patterns to solve equations without too much difficulty. Now in college, I realize more than ever how important it is to practice my math skills. By persevering through my education, I am hopeful I will achieve my goals. Becoming a laboratory scientist will be the hardest thing I have ever done and I know I will struggle along the way, but putting my all into learning and understanding mathematics will take me farther than I ever thought possible. Just like in math, my brain finds patterns in all kinds of things. Whenever I face a problem, I use logic and patterns to solve it just like I would a math equation. Life, like math, can be difficult and frustrating and I feel like giving up sometimes. I take time to remind myself how strong I am as a woman, how capable I am, and how smart I am. I refuse to give up and try to look at the problem another way until I resolve it. The world is filled with difficult problems for me to face, but math has taught me never to give up on them. I know I can overcome the difficult challenges ahead of me because I am a woman in STEM and I am stronger and more powerful than I ever thought possible.

I was in my sixth-period civics class when the official mandate was released to shut schools down for almost a month. Like the push of a button, the entire school seemed to hear the news all at once. Teachers stopped their lessons and began pulling up the latest headlines to see if the rumors were true. The general consensus among students was to celebrate, spring break just got a major extension and we were ready to leave as soon as possible to go enjoy it. The seniors were especially thrilled to start their end-of-year traditions once they stepped off school property. No one quite understood the severity of the virus just yet, no one anticipated the extensive lockdown that was to come. Yet somehow the teachers knew what was going to happen before any of us, they showed it in their eyes as if to say “I’m sorry this is happening to you.” On that Friday, March 13th, we left school expecting to come back Monday to gather our belongings and meet with our teachers for a rundown on how the rest of the year would play out. Monday never came. On that Friday the 13th I experienced my last day as a high school senior of the class of 2020. No more walking to homeroom with my friends, no more football games or band concerts, no more dreaming about my senior prom night. To me, my last year of high school symbolized my last year of childhood, it was the only thing standing between me and the rest of my adult life and I wanted to prolong it as much as I possibly could. For weeks, I was stuck at home like the rest of the world and for the first time in my life, I was experiencing depression. High school was over and all of a sudden I needed to secure my college registration for the fall, modifying and changing all my original plans to satisfy the virus’s needs. I dreaded anything to do with college, even talking about it made me uncomfortable, stressed, and sad. No closure presented itself after everything happened, there was even a rumor we wouldn’t have a graduation ceremony due to the never-ending list of rules and restrictions. Buried in college paperwork and scholarship applications, I was left to deal with all my unresolved grief without thinking about my health. I missed my friends, I wanted to see them and hug them before they left for college, but COVID-19 made it very difficult. I felt alone and hopeless as if I would never recover from such a loss, I didn’t care about my sleeping or eating habits because I didn’t care; it seemed like nothing would make me feel worse than I already did, so why try? Senior year was all about getting prepared to enter adulthood, to savor the last of your childhood memories before rising to meet the responsibility of becoming an independent citizen: it was supposed to be a steady transition and it wasn’t. I was angry and scared and, above all else, sad to let go of my childhood. I didn’t want it to end because I didn’t feel ready. Almost a year has passed since COVID-19 turned my world upside down. A few months after my last day of high school, after a much-anticipated graduation ceremony for the class of 2020, I started to recover from my emotional turmoil. Though the virus still keeps me at home, I attend community college exclusively online, on my own time, holding good grades, of course. Most of my friends have ventured off to begin their new lives, but I stay in touch with them almost every day. As for my senior year, I learned to be grateful for the way it ended; I let my emotions melt away to plant new hope for my future. I’m happy with the direction my life has taken and I don’t think I would be doing as well if COVID-19 hadn’t interrupted. I have the rest of my life ahead of me to craft and cherish new memories, so what if I lost a few months of high school? When the world pushes me down, I have to get back up again. Adulthood is a challenge I’m ready to take on and I won’t be alone to face it, the good and the bad. Change isn’t easy. The entire world had to make some major changes to accommodate the virus and it certainly wasn’t easy for them. Everyone had something they were looking forward to and because of COVID-19, it was either canceled, discontinued, or postponed. Everyone had someone they wanted to be with during these strange times, but COVID-19 forced them apart. Everyone had to deal with change, in some form or another, and cope with the resulting emotions somehow in the middle of all COVID-19’s chaos. Coming up on a year since I’ve been stuck at home, I’ve learned a few things. People all around the world can band together to fight a common cause in response to change, but every individual is fighting a battle of their own because of it. We can all mask up and social distance to protect our friends and neighbors around us, even if the reason makes us sad or bitter. We all had to stay home for weeks, for our safety, but it also gave us time to reflect on the changes, what’s to come, and how we feel about it. I could have let myself sink deeper into depression, but I learned to be hopeful about the future. One day, the world will slowly start returning to the way it was and I will be ready for when it does. I endured through the darkness, just like the rest of the world, and I can’t wait to see where life takes me next.

I was diagnosed with a blood disorder called myelodysplastic syndrome when I was only six years old. Caused by a rare phenomenon in which one of my chromosomes was missing, my blood cells started to lose their functionality as they set the stage for leukemia. It seemed like every other week I was home with a fever and the flu. My face grew pale and I was constantly fatigued. I loved school more than anything and yet I lost all motivation to participate in class activities; something was wrong with me and soon enough everyone started to realize it. Without delay, my family and I were sent to Children’s Hospital in Seattle to start treatment. Cancer doesn’t make sense to the mind of a kindergartener. The best way people could describe it to me was simply “being sick.” No one in their right mind would tell a child they’re dying. Blind to the true severity of my situation, I endured chemotherapy in preparation for a bone marrow transplant. If there’s one thing a six-year-old should never have to experience (aside from cancer, that is), it’s chemotherapy. My hair started falling out in clumps and I didn’t know why, I was sick to my stomach every other hour, and no matter how hard I tried to make them smile it seemed like my family would never stop crying. Confused and scared, I tried to stay as optimistic as I could. Most of the time I distracted myself by talking to the nurses and learning about their jobs. Considering the fact I was going to receive a bone marrow transplant, I had a lot of blood-related questions. Still just as curious years later, I decided to pursue a career in hematology. Beating cancer inspired my career and granted me many precious opportunities, but it took so much in return. A close friend of mine from the hospital passed away soon after we entered remission together. Now eight years old, I was deeply hurt and confused wondering why such a terrible thing could happen to such a sweet little girl. Her funeral was the first time I had ever felt survivor’s guilt, and it wasn’t the last. Being a survivor is very important to me and I frequently express my pride by wearing t-shirts or orange ribbons. Occasionally, people would give me disgusted looks or make jokes about cancer in front of me. It didn’t bother me until my closest friend abandoned me because of my pride, believing it was a stupid thing to be so proud of. For a few months afterward, I drowned in complete darkness constantly asking myself why I even survived at all. It took some time before I felt like my happy self again. Soon I felt a bit better, only to receive more heartbreaking news. After one of my yearly oncology check-ins, my doctor explained to me that due to the radiation therapy I received when I was six my reproductive organs were not functioning normally. I had to take medications to jumpstart their natural processes so I could grow and mature without any further problems, but I would never be able to have children. Even years after treatment, cancer was still throwing punches and landing devastating blows. Why were these terrible things happening to me? How much more could I stand? How could anyone stand such horrible pain? Waves of depression and survivor’s guilt hit me now and then, reminding me of the lasting effects of cancer physically, mentally, and emotionally. I could feel myself gradually spiraling into despair before I finally pulled myself back to reality with one simple thought: there was a way for me to save others like me. After everything I have gone through, I knew deep in my heart that I wanted to become a pediatric oncologist. I want to study hematology and rediscover leukemia from a different perspective in hopes that I can help find a cure someday. I want to help create a world where no child has to endure cancer ever again. I know now how much I deserve to live and how much more I have to give to the world. Cancer broke me, many times, but the scars it left have only made me stronger and one day I hope they will make others stronger too. I want to show them winning the fight is not impossible and one day I hope to make sure winning the fight is a guaranteed chance.

What I want more than anything in the world is to learn how to analyze blood cells. I was only six years old when I was diagnosed with leukemia and since then it has shaped my life in more ways than I ever thought possible. Constantly exposed to the medical world, I was learning all kinds of things about cancer and I was always determined to learn more. With a near-death experience under my belt before the first grade, I was already beginning to realize how much I appreciated my life and all the insignificant details that came with it. I was lucky enough to win my battle alive and healthy, but I have seen what failure looks like and I intend to make sure I never have to see such pain and sorrow ever again. If there’s even a chance I can help find a cure, I would take it without hesitation. For that reason, I am currently working towards becoming a medical laboratory scientist. I want to work in pediatric oncology and hematology to prevent future cases of childhood cancer, in honor of my journey and my friends who have passed. A career in the medical field requires a great investment of time and funds, yet I am prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve my dream. With the state of the world, I decided to pursue my Associates in Biology at a local community college; this way I can stay home, help support my family, and focus on saving money for my higher education. Especially in times as uncertain as these, I understand how hard I must work to reach my goals. Receiving a grant to help with college would take the financial stress off my shoulders, allowing me to focus on building my career and reestablishing myself as a successful woman in STEM. I will be able to refine my skills in biomedical science, opening new windows of opportunity for campus research projects, internships, and job shadows. Hands-on experience, above all else, will help me develop those skills; I would invest every penny of the grant in my educational costs to take advantage of these opportunities. I have dedicated my life to saving other young cancer victims and I do not intend to be stopped in my tracks by a few four-digit numbers. Every moment I live and breathe I am reminded of the people whose long hours of strenuous effort saved my life. I will perfect my skills in operating medical equipment as well as analyzing blood cells to hopefully help rid the world of cancer someday and save hundreds of lives in the process. Given a grant, I could accomplish this and much more.

My bull mastiff, Zoli, and I love our walks together. One day, after a lengthy stroll around the block in the misty drizzle of the morning, Zoli’s feet had become caked with mud and dirt. He was due for a trip to the groomers for a much-needed spa day. I took him in for a few hours and afterward he was returned to me with a gleam in his fur, a big toothy smile, and a blue scarf around his neck. Sitting tall and proud, I snapped a picture of my best friend.

“My Way” by Frank Sinatra brought tears to my eyes the first time I heard it. The song itself is about being satisfied with life, the good and the bad, knowing you lived it the way you wanted. For my playlist, I included songs that highlight the different emotional aspects of life: passion, determination, self-doubt, and satisfaction. It’s easy to feel sorrow and regret, but a life lived tailored to the pursuit of happiness is something to be proud of. I’ll scream to the world, “I did it my way!”

As a child, I loved school more than anything. I loved the class activities and the homework assignments; it was never busy work to me, it was always fun. When I was diagnosed with leukemia, I had to learn to find fun in asking the doctors and nurses dozens upon dozens of questions. Cancer doesn’t exactly make sense to a kindergartener, what better way to learn than to ask the professionals themselves? After all, being poked and prodded to no end can raise a lot of questions. Rather than letting fear take over I let curiosity take the wheel. Leukemia is a cancer of the blood, which meant I had to get my blood drawn. A lot. I never enjoyed it, especially when I was younger. One of my many doctors knelt to my level as I struggled to allow him to take my blood. He asked me, “Do you want to know why we need your blood?” Though I hated every moment of the process, I admitted I was curious. After he drew a few samples, the doctor took me to a room filled with microscopes. He put a drop of my blood on a glass slide and placed it under one of them. “Take a look,” he told me. I peered down the scope and let out a tiny gasp. My blood was moving! Hundreds of cells were floating around the slide, I could hardly believe it. I was beyond baffled, excited, and curious to learn more. The doctor packaged the slide in a case that would keep it preserved and gave it to me as a gift. Today, the slide sits on my desk as a reminder of all that I’ve accomplished and the goals I have yet to achieve. The world around me is incredibly vast and complicated. Millions, no, trillions of books could be filled with the knowledge hidden in every nook and cranny of the world. It would take centuries to master every skill, every secret, and every story. There is no greater satisfaction than chasing a burning curiosity, working hard to understand it, and coming out of it learning something new. Education is built on a desire to learn and develop new skills; that kind of passion gets me out of bed in the morning. A day without learning is a day wasted, so I strive to learn something new every day. Winning my battle against cancer catalyzed my desire to learn, from a spark to a raging fire. On the road to becoming a hematologist, I understand the importance of a proper education and I face the challenge head-on. Blind, childish curiosity got me through one of the darkest parts of my life and the education that follows is driving my career goals, it’s the cornerstone of my life. I want nothing more than to pursue it, using each day I’m alive as an opportunity to learn something new.

When I was six years old I was diagnosed with myelodysplastic syndrome, or preleukemia. The sickness drained me of my health all through kindergarten, I was sent to Children’s Hospital for immediate treatment. While I was hospitalized in preparation for my bone marrow transplant I was constantly exposed to the medical world and all its wonders. I asked question after question, fueled by a new curiosity born from cancer; I understood very little but I was determined to learn. It wasn't long before I received my transplant, thus beginning my recovery and return to school as quickly as possible: I still sought answers. What exactly is cancer? What did it do to my blood? What happened to me and how can I prevent it from happening to others? I experienced firsthand the struggle and sorrow cancer brings to a family and I want to help prevent the pain in the future. I’ve dedicated myself to understanding STEM science to build a career in the hematology field. Cancer nearly took my life early on in my childhood. It cost my family thousands of dollars in addition to hours of never-ending emotional trauma. My normal body functions almost couldn’t take place because of cancer’s repercussions. Cancer did nothing but hurt me and my family and yet I’m thankful to have experienced it. Without having cancer, I might not have discovered my passion for science and my dream to become a hematologist. My cancer experience has driven my education and career goals through the STEM world and I couldn’t be happier doing anything else. By continuing to invest in my STEM studies I will gain the knowledge and resources I need to further excel in my career for myself, my family, and young women in STEM. I want to succeed in the medical field, not just as a cancer survivor, but as a woman. I want to someday be a part of the team that finds the cure for cancer and by doing so I want to be a role model for all STEM girls and women everywhere. With the continued support of my family, I will not stop working towards a higher education so that I can become a beacon of hope for those women. I’ve already proven to the world that cancer can’t stop me and I won’t let being a woman stop me either. The STEM world is in need of more exceptional women and I hope I can inspire them one day. With those goals in mind, I continue to focus on the first steps of my STEM education. I understand there will be obstacles ahead of me, but I am determined to take them on one by one. I look forward to having a successful medical career to give back to the community that saved my life, to help save the lives of others, and to inspire young women like me who work hard to achieve their goals.

Mid-summer of 2020, my boyfriend and his family invited me on a hike at Mt. Rainier. We began at the base of the mountain and hiked for almost 3 hours up winding hills and rocky cliffsides. I'd never attempted such a physically demanding hike before; it took every ounce of determination I had to keep my body going. Exhausted, we finally reached a clearing and discovered a huge river of ice and, at its source, a towering waterfall! My boyfriend and I raced to get underneath it and, while extremely soaked, took a photo to celebrate our hiking victory.