On April 7, I had a temperature of 104°F. How could that indicate something so horrifying? There were also little dots on my legs called petechiae. How could something so tiny hint at something so terrifying? I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, AML. This diagnosis drastically altered the trajectory of my life. The next day, I began a six-month treatment plan.
As my treatment advanced, my hair was gone and I felt like a stranger in my own reflection. I would pull a beanie over my head, hiding the bare skin I couldn’t bear to look at. I missed being embraced by the comfort of my own home and savoring flavorful handmade food that would fill an entire room with its fragrance. I loathed any coffee that arrived in my hospital room; the pervasive odor of frozen food; and the smell of medicine. The hospital became my home. My new normal became talking walks around the unit despite the aches and pains, saying hello and goodnight to the staff, and even painting my nurse’s nails.
To evade the boredom, I would eagerly await my district teacher and ask the medical staff endless questions about why each medicine was used. The perpetual conversations with other patients wove together into a comforting blanket, forming my sense of empathy and belonging. One day, I met a little girl, barely six years old, who was living with an autoimmune disease. Through her, I recognized the importance of jubilance and resilience. On another day, the family of a patient I usually greeted during my daily strolls gifted me a candle. Their heartfelt acknowledgment of my efforts to stay active fueled my determination to keep moving forward.
After what felt like an eternity, I rang the bell, the bell to get my former life back, the bell that said I was now cancer-free. But just as people said I was a survivor, Leukemia was one too. I was re-diagnosed on February 5, 2021, during COVID lockdown. My world stopped again. I had to do a more intensive treatment, an Αβ-T Cell depleted haploidentical stem cell transplant. “What happens if this one fails?”, I thought. Someone that I love became my donor-my mother. To my mother, the words that left my mouth were “Thank you,” but the words that ached in my heart were “I’m sorry.”
During this treatment, I was in a turmoil of emotions and thoughts that overwhelmed me.
Struggling to swallow food due to severe throat pain and being restricted from seeing my twin sister and grandmother for three-plus months due to COVID and isolation was emotionally draining. The shuffling of the hospital employees and patient families became my solace; the beeping of the machines became the rhythmic backdrop I fell asleep to in my mother’s embrace. Rather than succumbing to constraints on my autonomy, I evolved into a proactive person who takes initiative, whether in getting my daily exercise or putting a smile on my face.
My family faced drastic changes during my treatments. My grandmother left her home in India to come support us, moving to a country where she didn’t understand the language. My mother balanced work, home, and caring for me in the hospital, even taking a three-month leave from her job during my relapse. My twin sister had to grow up quickly and become more independent, navigating life with limited parental guidance as my mother focused on my care and her responsibilities as head of the household. My family life was significantly impacted over the three years of my diagnosis and relapse, as we had to adjust responsibilities to accommodate my care. My grandmother took over the kitchen duties, my sister managed household chores while keeping up with her schooling, and my mother was by my side during my hospital stays. Emotionally, my family went through a whirlwind of feelings-the shock of my diagnosis, the constant worry for my health, and the emotional burnout from the weight of their added responsibilities. My family was unconditionally supportive, and together we braved the storm, emerging more connected and stronger than ever.
Having overcome days when even getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain, the way I approach life transformed. Through my recovery, I cultivated my appreciation of the little joys of life: going to the park with my grandmother, watching movies with my mother, and playing cards with my sister. Returning to in-person school in the second semester of 9th grade, I succeeded academically with the same tenacity I drew on to battle my illness. I’ve demonstrated patience in leadership roles, determination in badminton, curiosity in cancer research, and a strong drive to support others facing similar challenges. Through my journey, I learned that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, there is always something to be gained and that sometimes surrendering to vulnerability in the face of a hurdle helps in overcoming it. While we may not always choose the situations we are placed in, we can certainly control how we face them.
My experience led me to be more involved with the advancements in childhood cancer research.
In the summer of 2024, I participated in the Pediatrics Internship Program at Stanford (PIPS) the Hematology Internship Program at Stanford (HIPS). Through PIPS, I interned at the Alice Bertaina Lab, which pioneered the a� T-cell depleted haploidentical stem cell transplant, the exact same treatment I received as a cancer patient for AML in 2021. Being in the lab which developed the treatment that saved my life and cured many pediatric cancer patients like myself is an experience that I greatly treasure!
Through HIPS, I had the privilege of participating in a curriculum of workshops and career development lessons that provided a solid introduction to hematology and explored advanced research methodologies.
Each day, I eagerly participated in all activities, from building the tallest tower out of paper during leadership exercises to learning new techniques for experiments to gaining insight on unique treatments. In the lab, my enthusiasm surged as I faced the challenge of understanding the scientific reasoning behind each step of the research process. I immersed myself in the work, asking questions and reviewing research papers to deepen my knowledge. Besides being in the lab, in lectures for HIPS, I grasped knowledge of blood diseases, like sickle cell disease and Thalassemias and range of treatments, including CART-cell Therapy and Gene Therapy as well as engaged with top tier professionals in Hematology, such as Physician Assistants and Physician Scientists. Delving into scientific applications via PIPS, I conducted experiments that tested functionality oft-cells, analyzed data to create graphs and charts, and even processed actual patient samples. As I was focused on the advancement of medical treatment for hematologic diseases daily through both programs, my passion for stem cell treatments and medical care was solidified. Experiences from each program have strengthened my determination to pursue a career in research and medicine.
My envisioned career path is a Pediatric Oncologist with a focus in research. The aspect of supporting and contributing to young patients who are in a similar circumstance as I once was is a motivation to pursue education in college. This field will not only be something that will satisfy my curiosity for learning, but also my inner passion and personal goals. This Scholarship would help me accomplish my objectives of bringing awareness to childhood cancer through by allowing me to share my story, pursuing higher education in medicine, and ultimately contribute to the development of advancing treatments and supportive care of young patients. With this scholarship, I will be better equipped to make a meaningful impact in the fight against childhood cancer and inspire others to join this vital cause.