Since I was a child, I knew I wanted to work with animals. I was around them all the time: always raising animals like ducks, chickens, or turtles. As I grew older, so did my interest in zoology. I began volunteering with animals in middle school, and have continued to do so. However, I became hyper-focused on animals. I so strongly wanted to become a zoologist that I put my other interests like Chinese on the back burner. I found myself imagining camping far away from civilization and spending weeks at a time simply observing animals. However, my cancer diagnosis started a shift in my mentality. During my treatment, I found myself surrounded by a network of healthcare professionals, caregivers, and fellow patients who demonstrated incredible resilience and compassion. In this shared struggle, I began to realize the profound impact that human-to-human support and care can have on an individual's journey toward recovery. My cancer diagnosis served as a wake-up call, highlighting the interconnectedness of all living beings. I came to understand that compassion is not a finite resource, but a limitless passion that can be directed towards both humans and animals. Just days after my diagnosis, I walked on a runway. I felt invincible, and this was the first time I realized I could help other cancer patients feel the same. Which is why I dyed my hair the violet awareness color of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma just days before the show. This was the first of many steps I took to promote awareness of blood cancer and to ensure other children weren’t alone. Since that runway show, I have become a signed model with my post-chemo buzzcut, proudly donning my port scar. I strongly believe in being a role model for younger children through jobs such as modeling, which is why I chose to be a model for my Make-a-Wish. During chemotherapy, I realized just how important organizations such as LLS and Make-a-Wish are. This is what prompted me to become a wish hero and fundraise for other children like myself. I am also an intern for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, where I oversee communications with companies for future philanthropic relationships. I am also delivering cancer-awareness speeches for companies such as Hyundai, and regularly speaking at LLS events. I will also be speaking on behalf of the organization at Colorado schools next spring. In addition, I have also been involved with the hospital that treated me. As an official ambassador, I attend hospital-sponsored events to share my story. With this in mind, I aim to continue my advocacy in college. I intend to join the Adult University of California San Diego Colleges Against Cancer group. I will continue speaking for events for my hospital virtually and raising awareness via social media. I also aim to join a sorority to raise awareness and money for cancer research further. I believe that with the help of this scholarship, I can devote more time to raising awareness about blood cancer through modeling and speaking, and more time to helping animals who are experiencing similar pain as I once had.

I have been a fan of The Office, and specifically Dwight Schrute, since I was in fifth grade. I credit the show with helping me make my first best friends. Watching the TV show was our ritual. I have worn my "Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica", shirt religiously for years. Years later, the TV show "The Office" played a surprisingly therapeutic role during my battle with cancer. The very night I was diagnosed, I spent the entire night watching the show. It took my mind off of my sudden awareness of my mortality. Dwight always made me laugh. In real life, my friends weren't sure how to comfort me. On TV, Dwight made me giggle and forget my problems. I also found that I could relate to him on a personal level because, like Dwight, I was unashamedly open about my interests and life experiences, including my cancer journey. Dwight's unfiltered, no-nonsense approach to life was a refreshing perspective. He didn't hide who he was, and he was proud of his quirks and passions, even if they were unusual. This resonated with me because I, too, had to confront my vulnerabilities and be open about my illness. Cancer forced me to embrace my own quirks and talk openly about my struggles, much like Dwight did. After my treatment, I began my first job three months into remission. I took a page from Dwight's book and decided to be open and authentic with my coworkers. I shared my cancer journey and my interests without reservation. To my surprise, this approach helped me quickly connect with my coworkers. They appreciated my honesty and authenticity, and it helped us form genuine friendships. In many ways, "The Office" and Dwight's character became a guiding light for me during a challenging time in my life. It taught me the importance of being unapologetically myself, even when facing adversity. By following that example, I not only found camaraderie at my new job but also discovered a renewed sense of confidence and resilience as I continued my journey beyond cancer.

@samanthaawilkerson

The most important thing to know about me is that I hate popsicles. Whenever I encounter one, a wave of nausea washes over me. During my chemotherapy sessions, I had to consume popsicles regularly to prevent the development of painful mouth sores. This left me with an enduring aversion to the normally loved food. Beyond my challenging relationship with popsicles, two significant aspects of my identity have profoundly shaped my life: my experience as a cancer survivor and my identification as a bisexual woman. Although these aspects may appear unrelated on the surface, they share common themes of resilience, self-discovery, and the importance of embracing one's true self. My identity as a bisexual woman has been a fundamental part of my life. I've always been open about my sexual orientation, yet, my openness has often led to setbacks due to societal stigma and misunderstandings. Many people, including my own parents, have viewed my bisexuality as a mere phase, disregarding its legitimacy as a genuine sexual orientation. This drove me to seek solace within LGBTQ+ communities, where I found understanding, acceptance, and the opportunity to share my journey without judgment. Participating in events such as pride celebrations and pursuing scholarships aimed at supporting individuals like me has filled me with hope that a day will come when society will fully embrace all facets of my identity. In the LGBTQ+ community, I've encountered others who faced similar struggles, reinforcing the importance of shared experiences and unity. Their support and empathy have motivated me to advocate for equal rights and acceptance. Parallel to my journey of self-acceptance as a bisexual individual, I've faced challenges and misconceptions in my role as a cancer survivor. Some people couldn't come to terms with the fact that I had cancer. Much like my coming out experience, I had friends refuse to speak to me out of fear and lack of understanding. To navigate these challenges, I turned to others who had experienced cancer. I distinctly remember connecting with a young woman who had battled liver cancer and was a member of the LGBTQ+ community. The sense of kinship and understanding we shared was profound. Knowing that there were people like me within underrepresented communities inspired me to pursue my dream of becoming a wildlife biologist. My experiences as a cancer survivor and a member of the LGBTQ+ community have fueled my passion for research and advocacy within the field of Ecology and Evolution. Having overcome many challenges in my life, I want to show others in my community that they can achieve their dreams no matter the obstacles. Both my journey as a cancer survivor and my identity as a bisexual individual have taught me to appreciate the complexities of life. In my Ecology major, I will study things such as cell growth and disease in animals and ecosystems, mirroring my cancer. I also intend to discover things previously not understood, including what causes different sexualities in animals. I can apply my past experiences and knowledge to ecology, and not limit myself to only one thing in the broad field. In conclusion, my identity as a bisexual cancer survivor has profoundly influenced my choice to major in Ecology and Evolution. It has given me a sense of purpose, empowering me to be a beacon for others like myself and to study my own past experiences in a broader sense. My academic pursuits are not just a means to an end but a reflection of my commitment to making a positive impact within the LGBTQ+ community and society as a whole.

Since I was a child, I knew I wanted to work with animals. I was around them all the time: always raising animals like ducks, chickens, or turtles. As I grew older, so did my interest in zoology. I began volunteering with animals in middle school, and have continued to do so. However, I became hyper-focused on animals. I so strongly wanted to become a zoologist that I put my other interests like Chinese on the back burner. I found myself imagining camping far away from civilization and spending weeks at a time simply observing animals. However, my cancer diagnosis started a shift in my mentality. During my treatment, I found myself surrounded by a network of healthcare professionals, caregivers, and fellow patients who demonstrated incredible resilience and compassion. It was in this shared struggle that I began to realize the profound impact that human-to-human support and care can have on an individual's journey toward recovery. My cancer diagnosis served as a wake-up call, highlighting the interconnectedness of all living beings. I came to understand that compassion is not a finite resource, but a limitless passion that can be directed towards both humans and animals. Just days after my diagnosis, I walked on a runway. I felt invincible, and this was the first time I realized I could help other cancer patients feel the same. Which is why I dyed my hair the violet awareness color of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma just days before the show. This was the first of many steps I took to promote awareness of blood cancer and to ensure other children weren’t alone. Since that runway show, I have become a signed model with my post-chemo buzzcut, proudly donning my port scar. I strongly believe in being a role model for younger children through jobs such as modeling, which is why I chose to be a model for my Make-a-Wish. During chemotherapy, I realized just how important organizations such as LLS and Make-a-Wish are. This is what prompted me to become a wish hero and fundraise for other children like myself. I am also an intern for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I am now responsible for delivering cancer-awareness speeches for companies such as Hyundai, and reaching out to large companies for donations to the organization. I will also be speaking on behalf of the organization at Colorado schools next spring. In the face of adversity, my journey has evolved from a single-minded passion for animals to a broader dedication to the well-being of all living beings. Cancer was a formidable teacher, reminding me of the interconnectedness of humanity and nature. As I look toward the future, I envision a path that combines my unwavering love for animals with my newfound commitment to cancer awareness and support. I aspire to be an animal scientist who not only studies the intricacies of the natural world but also stands for those whose voices often go unheard, be that of animals or cancer patients. Simultaneously, I will continue to speak on behalf of cancer organizations, sharing my story, raising awareness, and offering hope to those who embark on a similar journey.

There was something in my body trying to kill me. On January 18th, 2023, I was having the best day of my life. My friends and I had just gone sledding, and I was on my way to my boyfriend’s house for a date. As I was waiting for him to finish homework, I decided to check my medical records, as I had been waiting for some routine test results from the doctor. “Thoracic mediastinal mass” was the first thing that appeared in my diagnosis history. I knew “mass” usually meant bad news. My dad took me to get a CT scan, and that night I was informed I likely had cancer. I immediately called my now ex-boyfriend, who told me talking about cancer was just an attention grab and promptly broke up with me. At night, I would imagine the rapidly dividing, cancerous cells working their way through my lymphatic system. At first, I was scared for my life- I was seventeen and could die, and now felt like I shouldn’t talk about my diagnosis. I began rigorous treatments which took a large toll on my body. I had hit my all-time low. I was neutropenic most weeks, which meant I had to wear an N95 almost everywhere I went and could not hang out with friends as often. I constantly struggled with eating enough, and even to this day, I cannot eat certain foods as I associate them with chemotherapy. I believe my increasingly large support system saved my life during this low point. While my friends and family helped change my way of thinking about cancer, it was ultimately a mental battle with myself. Hundreds encouraged me to persevere, but it came down to me believing in myself. I won that battle when I walked on a runway. As my heels clacked on the catwalk, I looked out upon the sea of hundreds and hundreds of faces. Modeling made me realize I could hold the attention of large groups of people, and maybe they would want to hear what I have to say. So I presented my story to my entire school. I was greeted with a standing ovation and future speaking opportunities. Although I was consistently sick, I continued going to school. I no longer had hair and was in a wheelchair some days. I didn’t let that stop me from enjoying my life. I held a party just to shave my head. I went from believing my family would see my headstone to believing applying for college was worth it because I would make it that far. I knew I would live because I had to live. I began modeling for an agency and attending cancer-related events. I am now an intern at the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, a fundraising Make-a-Wish hero, and strong enough to work at my job part-time. In the face of a life-altering cancer diagnosis and the following physical and emotional challenges, my journey from fear to determination and resilience illustrates the transformative power of tenacity, the crucial role of self-belief, and the potential for personal growth through adversity. In addition, my current positions at cancer-related organizations demonstrate the effect and change that perseverance had on my work ethic and involvement.

The Iced Apple Crisp Oatmilk Macchiatos’ ice jingled around in my cup as I hurried to class. I watched the bitter coffee creep into the milk on the bottom, like dark tendrils trying to usurp the sanctity of the white liquid. I always felt like the “evil and good” of the drink mirrored my life at the time. My “good times”, being a high school senior with active community service and social life- were always at battle with my “bad times”- as I was constantly at the doctor’s office being tested for cancer. For months prior, I had intense night sweats and lumps in my neck. Because it is nearly impossible for someone my age to randomly develop cancer, my doctors tested me for months before I was diagnosed. I was poked, prodded, and questioned by doctors beginning in the fall of 2022. During this immensely stressful time, Starbucks provided a comforting sense of normalcy that helped me remain calm. Whenever family and friends would ask what would make me feel better, I always found myself responding with, “a coffee”, or “a Starbucks gift card”. As my testing continued, the doctors discovered a cancerous tumor the size of a baseball behind my heart. I encountered many sleepless nights of pure terror waiting for my first chemotherapy treatment. In such stressful times, constants like coffee and school became something I relied on. I found myself in the drive-through ordering a coffee almost every morning. As my chemotherapy accumulated, my favorite foods which I once enjoyed began to make me nauseous. I could barely eat or drink anything for days after my chemo treatments- except for the Iced Apple Crisp Oatmilk Macchiato. I found that it actually helped counteract my nausea, and was the perfect blend of flavors that I could enjoy without worry. It helped keep me awake so I could enjoy time with my friends and helped me keep calories down. Not only was it a way for me to get calories in, but also helped reinforce a sense of normalcy in my life. It seemed like everything else in my life was changing- my relationships, my health, the very way I lived my life. But every time I took a sip of that macchiato, I tasted the same favorite coffee I drank before cancer. It was a few seconds of personal bliss where I could escape the nausea, sickness, and hair loss and just enjoy my coffee. I also discovered that I could talk about the drink with my friends- instead of how sick I felt, I talked about how perfectly the blend of coffee, apple, and cinnamon was. I believe the Iced Apple Crisp Oatmilk Macchiato genuinely helped me battle cancer. It represented normalcy and resilience in my life when I felt hopeless.

I have almost died twice in my life, which has allowed me to appreciate life on a deep level. The first instance, at my birth, I almost lost my life to Supraventricular Tachycardia. My life was saved by cutting-edge medical care led by highly-trained, caring providers. After an intense two weeks in the NICU, I was taken home. The second time, I was diagnosed with cancer just after I turned seventeen. Luckily, I live close to one of the top Children’s hospitals in the world and received loving support from caregivers, family, and friends. Within about four months, I was in remission. Since I can remember, I’ve had empathy for living things. I owned many animals growing up- including turtles, chickens, ducks, and frogs. I survived a life-threatening condition, but would the Amazon milk frog, normally untouched by medical help, have? I have always had a deep connection with animals- I believe that treatment for animals, especially wild and farm ones, is not on par with that of humans, and wanted to change that. At twelve, I began my wildlife service journey. My classmates and I traveled to Costa Rica, where we planted mangroves to prevent erosion. At thirteen, I began regularly volunteering with a cat rescue, spending hours caring for cats. Since my freshman year, I have volunteered at my local cat shelter. I am currently a Colorado Herpetological Society volunteer and help maintain reptile and amphibians' habitats and diets. While I have always been an avid animal volunteer, I gained a newfound appreciation for human life when I was diagnosed with cancer. Originally a carefree teen, I realized just how valuable life was. Just days after my diagnosis, I modeled on a runway. I felt invincible, and this was the first time I realized I could help other cancer patients feel the same. This is why I dyed my hair the violet awareness color of my cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, so it would appear in the show. While waiting for my chemotherapy, I would find myself in the waiting room looking to console younger children. Being seventeen, I was often the oldest child in the waiting room. I began to go to children and offer my support to them. This inspired me to create an online fundraiser for family and friends to purchase stuffed animals for children on the blood disorder floor. Although I was sick when I went to the hospital, I enjoyed making younger children’s days better and getting to know them. During my visits, I handed out over fifty stuffed animals to children. I plan on giving back to my hospital by speaking at the Hyundai Hope on Wheels event to share my story. This was the first of many steps I took to promote awareness of blood cancer and to ensure children didn't feel alone. Since the runway show and stuffed animal fundraiser, I have become a signed model with my buzzcut, donning my port scar. I strongly believe in being a role model for younger children through jobs such as modeling, which is why I chose to be a model for my Make-a-Wish. During chemotherapy, I realized just how important organizations such as the Lymphoma and Leukemia Society and Make-a-Wish are. I am also a “wish hero”, meaning I raise money on behalf of Make-a-Wish, landing me in the top ten wish heroes of Colorado for raising over $1,350. I am also a volunteer for the LLS and will speak on behalf of the organization at Colorado schools next spring.

My hands are too small. Sometimes, I wish they were bigger- I wish my hands were ‘normal’ and more proportional to my body. Then, I remember why they are too small and the fact that I would rather live with small hands than not live at all. There have been two instances in my life when I have almost died. The first instance was my birth. My mother had an emergency C-section because of my supraventricular tachycardia. My heart was beating so fast that my birth record simply said greater than or equal to 300 beats per minute. I was born prematurely due to my health, and thus- my small, underdeveloped hands. Being a teenager, I had always hoped a sudden growth spurt would catch my hands up to size. My window of opportunity was closing as I neared eighteen. That window was unfortunately slammed shut when the second near-death experience began with a lump in my chest. This turned out to be blood cancer, with the tumor pushing up against the organ that pumped too fast at my birth. That same organ was now also pumping cancerous cells throughout my lymphatic system. During the first two months of chemo, my family’s panic mimicked that of my birth. There was a ten percent chance chemotherapy would not work- it could have metastasized, and I could be unresponsive. And for the four months I received chemotherapy, my growth was stunted. Consequently, any chance of last-minute hand growth was thrown out the window. My stunted growth, possible long-term health defects, and constant nausea were enough to make anyone spiteful. But- I never really became angered, just thankful. I was thankful that my parents were able to see me survive two life-threatening conditions. I actually became thankful for my defects, my surgery scars, and yes- even my small hands. Because although my hands were and still are disproportionately small, I can use them just like everyone else. They remind me that the doctors saved my life at the cost of my being slightly premature. They remind me that I could still use my hands to grab onto my friends for support when I needed to walk around. When my legs wouldn’t work, my hands rolled the wheelchair. It is my hands that drive me to live and push through obstacles. Their size is stuck in time- an artifact that reminds me just how much I have lived through. My fingers, my palms- remnants of the first time I crawled after being discharged from the NICU. They drive me to my limits by reminding me that I have faced greater challenges in the past.

My favorite thing about Disney is the fact that it helped distract my grandmother and me from the pain of our cancer. While I have always been an avid Disney lover, having visited Disney almost every year since I could walk, Disney took on a different meaning when my grandma was first diagnosed with breast cancer. It became not just something she enjoyed, but something that helped her in a time of uncertainty. While she was undergoing radiation, “get well soon” Eeyore cards and Disney princess movies became a large part of her life. She even wore her large collection of Mickey Mouse shirts to the hospital regularly. I began to understand why Disney helped her so much- the fact that she could travel to a fantasy land through a simple movie or stuffed animal seemed incredibly appealing. That’s why when I was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer at the age of seventeen, I turned to Disney for comfort as well. As I became closer to my grandma through our shared cancer experience, I became closer to the magic of Disney as well. I remember coming home to my grandma watching Monsters, inc. hours after some of the tumor behind my heart was removed for a biopsy. It hurt to breathe, sit, and eat. Yet, as soon as I began to watch, I completely forgot about my pain and only focused on Mike Wasowki and Sulley’s adventures. I was also gifted many Disney stuffed animals, which became my cheering squad for chemotherapy and surgery. Although I was crying in fear at my first chemotherapy session, my Simba stuffie cuddled me close and helped alleviate the stress. On nights when I cried because I feared for my life, or nights when I couldn’t sleep from the nausea of chemo, my grandma and I would plop down on the living room couch and watch our favorite Disney movies. Every movie I watched inspired me in some way throughout my journey: Mulan taught me to be strong even in the face of adversity, and Rapunzel taught me that I could go out and see the world even if something was trying to hold me back. Through both my grandma's and I’s cancer experiences, the word “Disney” morphed from an interest we shared to something that helped us both battle life-threatening illnesses. The yearly visits my family takes to Disney have now become a celebration of our lives and the magic that helped us through our pain.

When I was a child, I was interested in "gross" things- things that make most people retch in disgust. I would go pick up dead frogs and try to classify them or scavenge for animal bones in the countryside. I knew I wasn't exactly normal, but for the strangest reason, it also felt like I was uncovering the secrets of the Earth. Trying to understand what animals were and did by simply looking at a bone felt incredible. This is why the discovery of Nuclear DNA Analysis is so important- it makes me feel seen. Although many people in my life still do not understand why I have a fascination with dead animals, DNA science understands. It understands I want to unlock the secrets of millenniums ago. This incredible new science can learn how animals looked and where they lived. It helps me in this way too, because finally, my questions are beginning to be answered.

Friendship is kindness. It is compassion, understanding, and humor. But it is also anger, and ocassionally misunderstanding. It is all a part of what makes us human. I think friends are one of the most important things a person can have. Their place in our lives is always irreplacable, regardless of money, fame, or looks. They are the ones who save each other's lives from those dark and terrible mental states; they are the ones who will take those verbal beatdowns and come right back to your side to boost you up. Because that is what a true friend is. Sure, there may be acquaintances, and people we "hang out with", but in the end, we don't remember them. We remember the ones whose shoulders we cried on during a dark and stormy night. We remember the friend who brought us food when we were sad and holed up in our little room. We remember the endless summer days where the music and smiles blend together. We remember our friendship.

I used to have a severely cynical fixed mindset in sports. I was always put on the lowest level team and would upturn my nose in disgust at the thought of being 'the worst'. I let the fact that I did not achieve what I expected to ruin my entire outlook on how I believed sports should be played. That is, until the fateful day I joined track and field. This was the catalyst of my growth mindset for multiple reasons; being that there are no separated teams, and runs are not timed. Therefore, although I may be a junior varsity runner, I don't think of it as a negative thing, because I am treated at the same level as my peers. This sport instills a new confidence in me that allows me to believe I can become faster and stronger, just like the rest of my school's runners. It helps me realize that in just three weeks my mindset can change drastically when there aren't as many boundaries to tell me I cannot change my team no matter how hard I work. In track, I can always become faster and better, I just have to believe it.

My world was absolutely rocked when my mother was admitted to a mental institution. I was in eighth grade. I clearly remember that cold winter morning my mother walked right out of the door and checked herself into a psychiatric ward. At the time, being thirteen, I had just barely begun the long, tumultuous, process of being a teenager. I was pushing away from my parents, talking back more often, even fighting back against some great evil parental force I had imagined by eating fewer vegetables. Yet, the fact of the matter is, when I was growing up, my parents were too. They were going through the same-if, not worse-emotional changes I was. But, I was too young to comprehend this, too young to realize that my parents, my knights in shining armor, may actually be cracking from the inside out just like me. When I realized my mom had depression and bipolar disorder I don't think I fully understood that it was possible. Growing up, I always believed that only teenagers who were 'emo' or 'misunderstood' were depressed or mentally ill; not the people with who you cracked jokes and cooked you smiley face pancakes. This ignorance put a strain on my mother and I's relationship- until I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Slowly, I began to understand her sadness and loneliness, and in a way, depression brought us together. I was able to appropriately comfort her more, and actually understand what affected us both more than ever. Of course, not everything fixed itself immediately, but after I was diagnosed with depression, I was able to appreciate my mother more. I understand more than I ever have about depression, bipolar disorder, and anxiety. I know there is a deeper, complex meaning behind the word 'depressed'. I know that 'mania' isn't just being incredibly happy. And, most of all, I know how to comfort my mom. Out of everything I have learned, I think that is the most important. You need to take the time to understand what someone is going through to really be able to help them. For me, I wish it had not taken a mental illness diagnosis to see that. Nonetheless, I understand my mom now. She is a person, just like me. She has her own thoughts, and feelings. Her mental health is just one part of her that, after you take the time to understand, only makes her better. Understanding and compassion for other people's mental health in order to de-stigmatize it is crucial. You don't need a grandiose project, or psychology course, to understand how a person is feeling. Compassion and empathy is something I try to encourage everywhere I go, because it can only encourage understanding.