There are certain significant moments that change the course of a person’s life, permanently impacting their future path. My path-changing moment occurred in July of 2015, when I was eight years old. I was a carefree child, obsessed with comic books and superheroes, when I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a rare blood cancer. I recall asking my pediatric oncologist if he could place my chemotherapy port in the center of my chest, so that it looked like Iron Man’s arc reactor and he obliged. My treatment plan consisted of multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, and radiation. The most brutal of the treatments, by far, was chemotherapy. I experienced multiple side effects including hair loss, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, fevers, and weight loss. Chemotherapy was administered daily for one week, followed by two weeks of rest. I was prescribed a cocktail of several chemotherapy agents. One drug, Bleomycin, caused me to have sudden and severe skin reactions. Because there was no alternative treatment, my doctor had to manage the allergic response with other medications. The allergic reactions caused permanent scarring on my chest and back, which are a badge of my survival, as well as a reminder of what relapse, or development of a secondary cancer, could possibly entail. After each round of chemotherapy, I would receive scans to determine if the chemotherapy was shrinking the cancer. I recall being unable to sleep at night because I feared I would not wake. My parents and family were supportive, but I saw their fear and helplessness, which increased my anxiety. After several rounds of chemotherapy, I started radiation treatments. Fortunately, my body tolerated daily radiation treatments much better than it had reacted to chemotherapy. About one year after my initial diagnosis, it was determined that I was cancer-free. However, who I was had changed forever. I never thought about or feared death before my cancer diagnosis. While in the hospital, surrounded by other children who were undergoing similar cancer treatments, death became real. Some of the children I met, did not survive. That could have been me. The experience changed my perception of life. I became familiar with the reality of suffering and learned that the future is not promised to anyone. I also came to understand that suffering is universal. While receiving treatments in the hospital, I understood that I was not the only person hurting. There were children in the room next door, and down the hall who were battling pain and fear. I watched family, friends, caregivers, nurses, and doctors struggle to shoulder the burdens associated with the disease and the losses caused by it. To this day, I am plagued with anxiety concerning a possible relapse, the development of a secondary cancer, or long-term heart and lung-damage from treatments; despite the fact that I have been cancer-free for over six years. I am thankful that I survived, but I also struggle with guilt, as several of the patients who fought cancer alongside me, did not prevail in their battles. Given my experience, it is my goal to become a pediatric oncologist and assist children fighting against cancer. I dedicate myself to this career path in honor of those who did not survive. I want to inspire and assist young cancer patients, as my pediatric oncologist did. I want to make the cancer fight easier for patients, families, friends and caregivers. This will be my particular superpower. It will be a little different than those sported by the superheroes in my favorite childhood comic books and movies, but I think my goals will be far more valuable to the world.