Looking back on my journey with Langerhans Cell Histiocytosis (LCH), it wasn’t the MRIs or the surgeries or the chemotherapy that I remember most distinctly. It was (and yes, I know it sounds cliche) the people. My lasting experience of cancer was truly one of human connection. Dr. Al Homans was the pediatric oncologist assigned to my case. He was a jovial man, always smiling. Dr. Homans shaped my perspective of the treatment. He noticed early on that I was not scared of the treatment but rather curious about it. He spoke to me like an adult and explained to me the mechanisms by which the treatment worked. During chemotherapy I would ask questions like “but is all of that blood really made up of cells?” He would always give me an engaged, mature answer. Inspired by my frequent questions, he took me on a tour of the hospital’s pathology lab. I truly believe Dr. Homans fostered my intellectual interests and my inclination to ask questions. He made me see that asking questions was not only allowed but worthwhile and encouraged.

My mother also played a central role in my treatment. At the time of my diagnosis, she had gone back to university, taking classes to study for medical school. She was somewhat of a research nerd, and read a large body of literature on LCH. After a lot of reading, she argued to the oncology department for a shorter chemotherapy and steroid regimen, thinking that the long one was unnecessary. After review, they approved the course of action. My mom normalized to me the idea of doing my own research before making a decision.

Based on research, my mother also created a diet regimen for me that would minimize the effects of the steroids I was taking. This helped fuel my lifelong interest in food and nutrition and aided my understanding of the power of food in health.

As you can see, childhood cancer has given me the opportunity to see the best in those around me. Dr. Homans’ encouragement of question asking incited in me a desire to learn, and I’ve taken that desire with me in many endeavors: researching early medieval moneylenders in England from the original Latin texts, learning multivariable calculus while still in high school, and interning for a U.S congressman. My mother’s tendency to independently research taught me to do the same; I am presenting soon to a panel of faculty in my research on U.S Agrochemical policy. Finally, my lifelong passion for food and nutrition is still there. I’ve worked in multiple acclaimed restaurants as a cook, been a regular volunteer at the local food bank and soup kitchen, and worked in a refugee-run kitchen in Greece. I’m even working to write my own cookbook that outlines a diet designed to mitigate the symptoms of chemotherapy. Childhood cancer, most of all, taught me the beauty of the human condition. I now believe, with conviction, given the amount of kindness I received as a sick child with nothing to give in return, that the good in people fundamentally outweighs the bad. Seneca says it best: “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness.”

I’m convinced that this fundamental good I see in people is one of the reasons I’m interested in eventually working in the world of politics and policy. I want to uplift our country so that we allow that good to shine in everyone. One day, I hope to advocate for the idea that every child should have an equal opportunity to excel in America. From funding pediatric cancer research to making prescription drugs more affordable to making school lunches nutritious and free, it is my dream that one day every child can live to the height of their potential. Childhood cancer survivors like me might not have been the strongest or fastest as kids but we had no less heart. We are resilient, and we see the best in all the people who have been so kind to us. The hardship of childhood cancer made me see just how good humans can be, and now I’m committed to hold all of us to that standard.