college essay about mom with cancer

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Personal Essay: My Mom Beat Breast Cancer, and It Changed My Life

I learned all about breast cancer after my mom, Bridget Bocchino Hochstuhl, was diagnosed with the disease in 2010. I was only three years old at the time, but over the years, as I became old enough to understand, I learned that breast cancer is the most common cancer found in women in the United States, second only to skin cancer. I learned that each year in the United States, there are an estimated 240,000 diagnosed cases of breast cancer in women and around 2,100 in men. And I learned that the disease occurs when the DNA in breast cells mutates, creating cancerous cells that destroy the normal ones.

I also learned that while Breast Cancer Awareness Month is October, breast cancer awareness should exist year-round. This is because early detection is key to beating the disease, so it’s critical that women get regular mammograms, X-rays of the breast, according to the guidelines set by their doctors and the American Cancer Society (ACS). Being diagnosed with cancer is not always a death sentence; my mom is living proof of that. And she wanted to share her own story of survival in the hopes of helping others do the same.

When my mom was first diagnosed in 2010, she was an otherwise healthy and fit 38-year-old. She had just lost 30 of the 50 pounds she had gained while pregnant with my younger brother, whom she was breastfeeding at the time.

When she first felt the lump in her breast, she thought it was a clogged milk duct. After all, she used to get them when she was breastfeeding her first child, me. At the urging of her coworkers, however, she got a mammogram just to be sure. Luckily, the health insurance company where she worked had a mobile mammogram machine on site to make it easier for employees to get the diagnostic test while at work.

She was officially diagnosed with breast cancer on Aug. 5, 2010, while throwing my brother’s first birthday party. She told my dad and her own mother, my grandmother, about the cancer, but she kept it a secret from most people in her life because she needed privacy and time to process the information.

After the diagnosis, things moved quickly, and my mother had a double mastectomy the following month, on Sept. 15, 2010. The pathology results showed that the cancer had spread to 28 lymph nodes in her armpit, thereby classifying it as a stage IV breast cancer diagnosis.

In the fight to save her life, my mother began the first of what she thought would be 12 rounds of a chemotherapy regimen, which was estimated would take six months to finish. However, the 12 rounds quickly turned into 30, and six months stretched to over one and a half years, due to the anaphylactic reaction she had to the treatment. After the chemotherapy treatments, she underwent 52 rounds of radiation. By the time she had finished all the chemo and radiation, she was in a severely weakened state.

The medical procedures didn’t end there, however. From 2010 to 2023, my mother underwent 18 breast reconstruction surgeries, which included adding and adjusting expanders, then adding and adjusting implants.

Other complications arose during her treatments. For one, the excessive radiation she’d undergone caused her to experience chronic cellulitis. She also suffered from multiple side effects due to staying on a chemo pill that had acted as an estrogen blocker for 10 years. At one point, an oncologist saved my mom’s life when she suffered a pulmonary embolism. At the time, she was estimated to only have about three weeks left to live, but she beat the odds and survived.

It has been 13 years since my mom’s diagnosis. She survived breast cancer, and she’s the strongest person I know. She says she fought to survive in order to raise her kids and be here for her family. I love my mom with my entire heart; she is the kindest, sweetest, most generous person who could ever exist. She puts everyone else above herself, no matter what she is going through.

Ever since I was old enough to do so, I have supported her on her 13-year-long journey toward becoming a survivor of the disease. Breast cancer is a serious issue that often goes unnoticed, which in turn, can cost people their lives. Screening tests in the form of mammograms are the best defense; they can detect cancer early, way before a person has symptoms. According to the American Cancer Society (ACS), women should consider starting annual mammograms at age 40, or even earlier if there is a family history of the disease. At age 45, the ACS recommends that all women start getting annual mammograms. People who have cancer in their family can also get genetic testing before this age to see if they carry genes for the disease.

During her breast cancer journey, my mother taught me life lessons that I’ll carry with me always. I learned about being strong, the healing power of love and the importance of protecting my health. I learned about breast cancer prevention strategies, and the importance of getting regular screenings for early detection of the disease. Who knows, from all I’ve learned, I might save my own life one day. All of this is thanks to what I learned from my beloved mom, breast cancer survivor Bridget Bocchino Hochstuhl.

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Cindy Burrini • Dec 7, 2023 at 4:51 pm

Emily, what a brave and courageous and heartfelt thing to do, sharing your Mom’s story of her battle with breast cancer. I remember that time well. Your Mom dealt with every complication imaginable as she also dealt with work and her family, especially two babies. Your Mom is a true warrior and an absolute inspiration to anyone going through or who will be diagnosed with breast cancer. Cancer is not a death sentence, and as your Mom says, “Storms always lose to the sun.” YOU and your Mom are rays of sunshine that will always rise above the “storm” I love you guys!

Jeanine • Dec 6, 2023 at 7:54 pm

This is incredible Emily. I’m so proud of your courage. Your mom is the strongest woman I know, and let me tell you, she fought so hard because of you! Her beautiful family! Thanks for sharing this and acknowledging your mom is a true hero. Her words–storms always lose to the sun ☀️ XOXO Jeanine

Melissa Ferraro • Dec 6, 2023 at 11:30 am

Absolutely Beautiful Emily. The love you have for your mother and her strength is inspiring. Your mother is a gift.

Andrea Seiden • Dec 5, 2023 at 6:44 pm

Beautiful story, Emily. Your mom’s strength is an inspiration to all of us. Lovely and engaging writing. Thank you for sharing, Emily!

Emily • Dec 6, 2023 at 10:05 am

Thank you!!!!!

Denise O • Dec 5, 2023 at 6:34 pm

Beautifully written tribute to your mom, Emily. Great reminder to get your mammogram.

Erich Guy Hochstuhl • Dec 5, 2023 at 6:18 pm

Great writing, Emily. I’m proud to be your Dad. I love you.

Melinda Seger • Dec 5, 2023 at 5:21 pm

This is such a touching story of such a great love and admiration between a mother and daughter…absolutely priceless.

Jill • Dec 5, 2023 at 5:21 pm

Emily, your Mom is a strong woman. Your story is a tribute to her and your love for her.

Theresa Puljic • Dec 5, 2023 at 2:21 pm

Emily wrote a wonderful piece on her hero, and I’m overwhelmed with admiration and love for this piece. Love to you all, and thank God that Bridget was able to beat this!

Anna Hankin • Dec 5, 2023 at 11:34 am

What an amazing, loving daughter! This is absolutely a beautiful story! Mom is a true warrior; her story will encourage others to never give up!! Such a beautiful tribute to a wonderful Mom! Thank you for sharing this! Xo

Danee DeCarlo • Dec 5, 2023 at 10:54 am

Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. As a mom with a young baby, it was very informational and thought provoking. Great job of taking the courage to share something so personal. I wish you and your family all the best in all the years to come

Martha Conte • Dec 5, 2023 at 10:27 am

A truly beautiful article Emily. How you articulate the entire journey is so impressive. Keep up the great work!

Bridget Bocchino Hochstuhl • Dec 5, 2023 at 10:13 am

My beautiful daughter, my precious gem, such a heartfelt article, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being my rock, my strength and one of the rays in my sunshine. You’re a strong woman of substance. Don’t let anybody tell you differently. I love you. Great job on the article. Love, Mom.

Tina B • Dec 2, 2023 at 7:56 am

What an incredible article. The author’s writing created the perfect blend of education and adoration. I could feel the strength her mother had, and the love and gratitude she has for that courage. Well done! Thanks for sharing this very motivational story.

Dana Wallock • Dec 7, 2023 at 12:25 pm

Your mom is a true warrior – thank you for sharing her story with your beautiful words! Loved how your reflected on your journey as her daughter.

Linda Venturini • Dec 2, 2023 at 7:41 am

Thank you for allowing all of us to see what a strong and beautiful Mom you have. Your story of all she has been through is going to help many others to get checked out sooner rather than later. Your Mom is a true warrior but after reading this, so are you. Thank you for sharing this.

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Everything is perfectly fine, everything is great, then one day it all comes crashing down and shattered pieces are left. My life would never be the same but I guess change is for the best and it forced me to become the person I am today. It’s rough to be the oldest child, especially when your mom is diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and you have 3 younger sisters that look to you for comfort when their mom can’t be there. When the cancer is spread throughout your moms body doctors can’t just get rid of it no matter how badly you wish they could. Rounds of chemotherapy only slow it down, yet it’s still there a lurking monster waiting to reappear at any given moment. Nothing can even begin to describe the fear I felt, and still have to deal …show more content…

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Tears poured down my face like I was in a rain forest, hugged my mom tightly as if she was a cuddly stuffed animal and I prayed, prayed like I’ve never prayed before. Not really knowing what was going on or what was going to happen. My sister arrived home, followed by my dad shortly after. While we waited to hear back from the hospital, we sat on the couch in the living room bawling our eyes out probably. Don’t worry, I will tell you about what is going on.

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My Cancer Story: What I Learned From My Mom's Cancer

I remember the day my mom brought home Sharie and Jillian. They were new members of our family, and we were skeptical at first. But we figured they deserved a chance. We could try them on for a while and see what we thought. They both seemed quiet and a little air-headed, but you could tell from their hair that they had completely different personalities.

As soon as I saw their pale, lifeless faces, I decided that they needed a makeover . Not yet old enough to own makeup, I dove into my mom's drawer. Sharie’s curly locks called for some serious glamour: red lipstick, a bit of blush, some funky colored eye shadow, and an obscure pair of diamond-studded fake eyelashes. Jillian got a more understated look to match her short, straight ‘do. In the end, they both looked fabulous, worthy of being put on display. Which they were—for the next year and a half, Sharie and Jillian sat on my mom's dresser, their newly decorated Styrofoam heads holding my mother’s wigs.

This is my most vivid memory from the time my mom had breast cancer. Sure, there are the memories of the days after she had undergone a particularly bad treatment, when we would tiptoe around the creaky wood floors upstairs whispering, "Shhh, Mom's sleeping." There are recollections of watching my mom's hair slowly fall out, and then finally riding in the car with her to get her head shaved. Early on, we had a family meeting so my parents could announce, “ Your mom has cancer ,” and then another one later to tell us, “The radiation didn’t work, so we’re going to try chemo.” I'm not even sure now if all of these memories are real or if they are just made up from what I believe cancer memories should involve.

Whatever the case may be, they are weak memories compared to those of the wigs, the hats, and the scarves—the things my mom used to cover her hairless head. She didn't really like any of them, but I loved them all. Whenever I would hear her complain about wearing a hat, I would snatch it off her head and put it on mine, observing myself in the mirror:

“I don’t see why you don’t like them, they’re so cute!”

“Well you’re a hat person, Erin,” she would reply, smiling at me.

I didn’t know what made someone a “hat person ,” but apparently she wasn’t one. Even so, she always wore something when she went out. At home she didn’t care as much. We all knew what was going on, so it didn’t matter if she left her head bare around us. But even with the effects of her disease so apparent, what was hurting my mom never bothered me.

For the most part, my daily routine went unchanged. I would spend the day at school, then come home to find my mom on the couch—“resting,” as she called it. Sometimes that meant sleeping, but more often she was awake and ready to hear about my day. When my dad came home we all had dinner together, then had family time—me reading Harry Potter out loud or us all watching Nick at Night—before going to bed. No chronically absent parents. No extra burden placed on me and my siblings.

Granted, my brother and sister were probably too young to do much. At only four and six years old, they didn’t even know what cancer was and certainly couldn’t be expected to pick up too much slack for my mom. But I was 12, and a mature 12 at that. I should have grasped what was going on and been more helpful to my parents. All the things I could have done—taken care of my siblings, gotten myself ready for school, made dinners for the family—I didn’t. I just continued living as I had before cancer entered our lives.

At times I’ve been tempted to blame my parents for my lack of inclusion in my mom’s struggle. It was almost like they were hiding it from me, like they didn’t think I could handle the difficulties they were facing.

Other times I’ve wonder if my lack of concern during this struggle was my fault. I was a middle school girl wrapped up in my own world. During the year and a half that my mom was undergoing treatment, I became a teenager, started shaving my legs, found my first boyfriend, and mapped out my future as an interior designer. I was very focused on me. It didn't bother me that mom was going to the hospital—as long as there was someone around to drive me to my friend's house. I wasn't concerned when my dad took us on vacation while she stayed home—I was excited to go to camp!

But I think this is what my parents wanted.

They wanted a normal childhood for me and my siblings. They didn’t feel like we should have to worry about our mom not being around in a year or think about the crazy chemicals being pumped into her body. They preferred that we decorate mannequin heads and parade our brother through the house wearing a woman's wig. They wanted us to laugh, and they wanted to laugh right along with us. I don't think they wanted cancer to infect our lives, too.

It wasn’t until I was completing my college applications that I realized what little effect my mom’s stint with cancer had on me. At the time, I wished that it had. I thought that if it had been more traumatic I could have gained something from it . Maybe a better understanding of the bad things in the world would help me really appreciate the good. Or maybe the idea of not having one of my loved ones around would help me treasure all the time I have with them. And if I had learned all these things through a traumatic experience with cancer, I could write a damned good application essay about it.

But I made it through my college applications with less cliché, and more meaningful, experiences. And I realized that I never needed a dramatic story with a moral at the ending. I learned and grew, not because of my mother's disease, but in spite of it. My bond with my family grew more by laughing together than by worrying together. I learned to appreciate how great my life was because my parents let me live a wonderful one, not because some destructive little cells made me realize how bad things could be. For my family, cancer was the bump in the road that we drove right over, laughing and singing all along, and then forgot about a couple miles further. And while I’m sure the road was more than a little bumpier for my mom, she never faltered in keeping on down the road.

One thing did come out of my mom’s time with cancer. With all her extra time at home, my mom started her own business . Its goal was to help women who were dissatisfied with their lives to figure out what would make them happy. Its name: Emergo, which means “to emerge.” I remember taking her picture for the brochure. Standing next to a tree in our backyard, wearing Jillian and a big smile, my mom didn’t look like a woman suffering from cancer. She didn’t look like a woman suffering from anything. She had taken on cancer and emerged no worse for the wear, only wiser.

And I guess now that I’ve emerged, too—through the stages of self-centered pre-teen and self-interested college applicant to become the young woman I am today. And I am ready to write my “cancer story.” Not one full of strife or drama, blame or vanity—the types of accounts that would have come if I had tried to write this at an earlier time in my life. I am able to write the true story of how my parents did hide cancer from me, not because they didn’t think I could handle it, but because they didn’t think I should have to.

For all this and more, I thank them.

Photo of mom and daughter courtesy of Shutterstock .

Bridgewater student’s Harvard admissions essay about finding passion for life after losing her mother to cancer goes viral on TikTok

Yes, abigail mack got in. she begins classes in the fall..

When Abigail Mack sat down to write her college application essay in October, she had a sudden realization: She strongly disliked the letter “s.”

The consonant had stung since she was 12, when her mother, Julie, died of cancer. Each time she heard the word “parents,” or said it herself, she realized she only had one. In time, she found herself wanting to escape the heavy grief that seemed to cling to its snake-like curve.

Staring at a blank screen, Mack, a Bridgewater resident who attends Cardinal Spellman High School in Brockton, started to type.

“I hate the letter ‘S’,” she wrote. From there, the words poured out.

The result was a heartfelt narrative about how running from the letter “S,” a symbol for the pain of losing her mother at a young age, led her to trying to distract herself with a range of extracurricular activities and hobbies — some of which eventually became passions that motivated her to keep going.

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The powerful essay ended up helping her — along with her many academic achievements — land a coveted spot in Harvard College’s class of 2025, at a time when the school saw a record number of applicants.

After learning she had been accepted, Mack shared her story and essay on the popular video app TikTok this month, where 60-second clips of her describing her essay and why she wrote it have now been viewed close to 20 million times. Her essay has sparked an outpouring of support from all over the world, with many posting that they, too, had lost a parent to cancer growing up.

@a_vmack ♬ original sound - Abigail Mack

“I’ve gotten so many bittersweet comments from people who have had similar experiences, saying I had put into words what they had been feeling,” she said. “It’s been so nice to feel like I’ve connected with so many people about that topic.”

Mack, 18, decided to share her essay about her mother on social media after initially posting her reaction to getting into Harvard in March — a tradition for many high schoolers overjoyed to be heading to college.

From there, Mack began posting other school-related content for her followers, and answering questions from people curious about her academic journey. In late April, she posted the first in a series of videos about her essay, including one that has now been viewed some 16 million times.

“I had been really hesitant to share it just because it’s so personal,” she said. “But I thought about it some more ... so I decided to share it.”

Mack said she had long known she would write about her mother, recalling her as a kind, empathetic, and brilliant woman who was adored in her community. She ran a dance company, Julie’s Studio of Dance, with Mack’s father, Jonathan.

“My mom set the greatest example for me,” Mack said. “She had a way of making everybody feel so special and unique. She was so upbeat, and positive, and brave.”

But when it came time to write about her, Mack ended up with a completely different essay than she hoped for, one that focused more on her own loss and less on how the experience shaped her life.

So Mack, a devout theater enthusiast, went back to the drawing board in October with a new perspective.

“I remember sitting down at my computer in English class — it was an assignment to write our college essays — and I thought about the difference between ‘parent’ and ‘parents’ and how much ‘parents’ is so much more common in our vernacular,” she said. “Once I came up with that hook, the rest of the essay wrote itself.”

It started like this: “I hate the letter ‘S.’ Of the 164,777 words with ‘S,’ I only grapple with one. To condemn an entire letter because of its use 0.0006 percent of the time sounds statistically absurd, but that one case changed 100 percent of my life. I used to have two parents, but now I have one.”

“’S’ follows me,” she wrote. “As I write this essay, there is a blue line under the word ‘parent’ telling me to check my grammar ... but cancer doesn’t listen to edit suggestions.”

She recalled how she unintentionally became the “busy kid,” filling the void left by her mother with theater, sports, and afterschool programs. Eventually, she realized there were a few activities in particular that made her happiest.

“I stopped running away from a single ‘S,’ and began chasing a double ‘S’ — passion,” she wrote of narrowing her focus to politics, theater, and academics. “I’ve finally learned to move forward instead of away, and it’s liberating.”

Mack, who also got into Notre Dame, Georgetown University, Dartmouth College, and Northwestern University, said she didn’t entirely expect the video series to take off like it has but is glad her story has resonated so widely.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” said Mack, who is interested in studying foreign policy and international relations. “I’ve been a little bit nervous about my [future] classmates at Harvard seeing the video.”

Mack’s father, who met Julie at Holy Cross in the late 1990s and still runs the family’s dance studio, said he has been touched by the reactions to his daughter’s essay and is glad she found light in the darkness.

“Writing the essay gave her a chance to reflect on this last period of her life,” he said. “I think it’s good for her to be able to recognize the good things that have come from that.”

Steve Annear can be reached at [email protected] . Follow him @steveannear .

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Home > Cancer Research Catalyst > Cancer Survivors: In Their Words

Cancer Survivors: In Their Words

This year alone, an estimated 1.8 million people will hear their doctor say they have cancer. The individual impact of each person can be clouded in the vast statistics. In honor of National Cancer Survivor Month,  Cancer Today would like to highlight several personal essays we’ve published from cancer survivors at different stages of their treatment. 

In  this essay , psychiatrist Adam P. Stern’s cerebral processing of his metastatic kidney cancer diagnosis gives rise to piercing questions. When he drops off his 3-year-old son to daycare, he ponders a simple exchange: his son’s request for a routine morning hug before he turns to leave. “Will he remember me, only a little, just enough to mythologize me as a giant who used to carry him up the stairs? As my health declines, will he have to learn to adjust to a dad who used to be like all the other dads but then wasn’t?” he questions. 

In  another essay from a parent with a young child, Amanda Rose Ferraro describes the abrupt change from healthy to not healthy after being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in May 2017. After a 33-day hospital stay, followed by weeklong chemotherapy treatments, Ferraro’s cancer went into remission, but a recurrence required more chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant. Ferraro describes harrowing guilt over being separated from her 3-year-old son, who at one point wanted nothing to do with her. “Giving up control is hard, but not living up to what I thought a mother should be was harder. I had to put myself first, and it was the hardest thing I had ever done,” she writes.

In January 1995, 37-year-old Melvin Mann was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia, which would eventually mean he would  need to take a chance on a phase I clinical trial that tested an experimental drug called imatinib—a treatment that would go on to receive U.S. Food and Drug Administration approval under the brand name Gleevec. It would also mean trusting a system with a documented history of negligence and abuse of Black people like him: “Many patients, especially some African Americans, are afraid they will be taken advantage of because of past unethical experiments like the infamous Tuskegee syphilis study​,” Mann writes, before describing changes that make current trials safer. Mann’s been on imatinib ever since and has enjoyed watching his daughter become a physician and celebrating 35 years of marriage.

In  another essay , Carly Flumer addresses the absurdity of hearing doctors reassure her that she had a good cancer after she was diagnosed with stage I papillary thyroid cancer in 2017. “What I did hear repeatedly from various physicians was that I had the ‘good cancer,’ and that ‘if you were to have a cancer, thyroid would be the one to get,’” she writes.

In another piece for Cancer Today , Flumer shares  how being diagnosed with cancer just four months after starting a graduate program shaped her education and future career path.

For Liza Bernstein, her breast cancer diagnosis created a paradox as she both acknowledged and denied the disease the opportunity to define who she was. “In the privacy of my own mind, I refused to accept that cancer was part of my identity, even though it was affecting it as surely as erosion transforms the landscape,” she writes . “Out in the world, I’d blurt out, ‘I have cancer,’ because I took questions from acquaintances like ‘How are you, what’s new?’ literally. Answering casual questions with the unvarnished truth wasn’t claiming cancer as my identity. It was an attempt to dismiss the magnitude of it, like saying ‘I have a cold.’” By her third primary breast cancer diagnosis, Bernstein reassesses and moves closer to acceptance as she discovers her role as advocate.

As part of the staff of  Cancer Today , a magazine and online resource for cancer patients, survivors and caregivers, we often refer to a succinct tagline to sum up our mission: “Practical knowledge. Real hope.” Part of providing information is also listening closely to cancer survivors’ experiences. As we celebrate National Cancer Survivor Month, we elevate these voices, and all patients and survivors in their journeys.

Cancer Today is a magazine and online resource for cancer patients, survivors, and caregivers published by the American Association for Cancer Research.  Subscriptions to the magazine are free ​ to cancer patients, survivors and caregivers who live in the U.S. 

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College Scholarship Opportunities for Cancer Survivors and Family Members

Many people who have experienced cancer, either as survivors or as close family members of those affected, understand that the battle extends far beyond the medical realm. The repercussions often touch every facet of life, including education. As the costs of treatment can be overwhelming, it may be challenging for survivors or their family members to pursue higher education and fulfill their academic goals. However, it is heartening to know that there are numerous scholarships specifically designed to aid individuals who have been directly or indirectly affected by cancer. We hope that this information will serve as a practical aid for anyone striving to pursue their academic dreams after dealing with this terrible disease. ❤️

Four Scholarship Programs Available Now

Education should never be out of reach, and there are numerous educational discount programs designed specifically for those diagnosed with cancer. Tuition waivers, scholarships, and grants can make higher education more accessible. Vocational training programs and certifications are available too, which can open up new career opportunities for you. We encourage you to take advantage of these opportunities to enhance your skills and broaden your horizons.

1. Patient Advocate Foundation (PAF) Scholarships for Survivors

PAF’s scholarship program specifically aids students who have been diagnosed with or treated for a critical or life-threatening disease, including cancer. The scholarship helps students pursuing their undergraduate degree. Visit the PAF website for more information.

The Patient Advocate Foundation (PAF) Scholarships for Survivors program provides financial support to individuals who have been diagnosed with or treated for a critical or life-threatening disease, to aid in the pursuit of their undergraduate degree. Acknowledging the immense financial burden that healthcare costs can place on a family, this scholarship aims to alleviate some of the stress associated with higher education expenses.

The scholarship is open to students under the age of 25 and awards up to $3,000 per year, for a maximum of four years, to the selected applicants. The recipients of this scholarship are selected based on their academic achievement, leadership skills, and commitment to community service. In addition to the financial aid, the program also provides valuable resources and support to help students navigate their educational journey amidst health challenges.

Applying for the PAF Scholarships for Survivors program involves a comprehensive application process wherein students are required to submit their academic records, letters of recommendation, a personal essay, and a detailed account of their medical history. For more information on the eligibility criteria, application process, and deadlines, interested individuals are encouraged to visit the official website of the Patient Advocate Foundation.

2. The Ulman Foundation Scholarships

The Ulman Foundation offers multiple scholarships for young adults who have been affected by cancer, whether through their own diagnosis or the diagnosis of a loved one. Each scholarship aims to provide funds to support the education of these individuals. More information can be found on the Ulman Foundation website.

The Ulman Foundation offers an array of scholarships aimed at supporting young adults who have been impacted by cancer. Whether they themselves have been diagnosed, or a loved one, these scholarships aim to lessen the financial burden of education during a challenging time.

Among these is the “Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults Scholarship”, which targets young adults who have been diagnosed with cancer and are under the age of 40. There’s also the “Marilyn Yetso Memorial Scholarship”, specifically for those who have lost a parent to cancer, and the “Sib’s Journey Scholarship” that offers financial support to siblings of cancer patients.

Each scholarship has distinct eligibility criteria and application processes that prospective applicants should familiarize themselves with. Generally, the application process involves submitting academic transcripts, a personal essay detailing the applicant’s experience with cancer, and letters of recommendation.

These scholarships present an opportunity for personal growth and academic development aimed at those affected by cancer, enabling them to pursue their education despite the associated challenges. For additional details on eligibility, the application process, and the range of scholarships available, individuals are encouraged to visit the official Ulman Foundation website.

3. The John Foy & Associates Strong Arm Leukemia Scholarship

This $1,000 scholarship is open to college students who have battled leukemia or whose life has been affected by it. It is designed to help them achieve their academic goals despite the financial burden of their disease. Visit the John Foy & Associates website for further details.

The John Foy & Associates Strong Arm Leukemia Scholarship is a significant financial assistance program designed to support college students impacted by leukemia. Whether they themselves have battled the disease or have been affected by a loved one’s struggle, this scholarship aims to empower these individuals to pursue their academic ambitions.

The scholarship awards $1,000 to one student annually, directly contributing to their education-related expenses such as tuition, books, and housing. This financial aid aims to alleviate the financial strain often associated with managing both higher education and the expenses of a critical illness.

The application process for the Strong Arm Leukemia Scholarship is comprehensive, requiring candidates to submit a detailed application, academic transcripts, and an original essay. The essay should reflect the applicant’s personal experience with leukemia, and how it has influenced their life and education journey.

Recipients are chosen based on their academic achievements, personal essay, and their demonstrated determination to overcome the adversities associated with leukemia. This scholarship ultimately serves as a testament to the resilience and strength of students battling leukemia, embodying the firm’s motto – “The strong arm of the law”. To find out more about the John Foy & Associates Strong Arm Leukemia Scholarship, including detailed eligibility criteria and application deadlines, interested individuals are encouraged to visit the official John Foy & Associates website.

4. The Northwestern Mutual Scholarship for Siblings Program

Northwestern Mutual, in collaboration with Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation, offers a unique scholarship program specifically for siblings of children diagnosed with cancer. The program acknowledges the emotional and financial strain a family experiences when a child is diagnosed with cancer and aims to support the educational aspirations of the siblings.

This scholarship offers up to $5,000 to the selected applicants, supporting them in their pursuit of an undergraduate degree. Eligible candidates must be between the ages of 18 to 35 and have a brother or sister who is a current or past patient of cancer.

The application process for the Northwestern Mutual Scholarship for Siblings Program is comprehensive, requiring the submission of academic transcripts, a personal essay articulating the impact of their sibling’s cancer journey on their lives, and letters of recommendation.

Recipients are chosen based on their demonstrated resilience in the face of adversity, academic achievements, and the compelling nature of their personal essay. The scholarship serves as a testament to the resilience and strength of these individuals, honoring their unique journey and supporting their academic pursuits. For more detailed information on eligibility, the application process, and deadlines, individuals are encouraged to visit the official Northwestern Mutual website.

Dealing with a disability or a life-threatening disease should not hinder one’s pursuit of education and personal growth. A myriad of resources, including scholarships, grants, and vocational training programs, are available to support individuals in their academic journey. From the Patient Advocate Foundation’s Scholarships for Survivors to the Ulman Foundation Scholarships, and the John Foy & Associates Strong Arm Leukemia Scholarship; these programs strive to alleviate the financial burden of education and empower individuals to reach their full potential. Explore these resources today and take a step closer to achieving your educational and career aspirations.

As you navigate life’s challenges, remember that your pursuit of education is a powerful testament to your resilience. Whether you are a cancer survivor, the sibling of a patient, or someone who has lost a loved one to this disease, know that there are resources designed specifically to support you. Scholarships like those offered by the Ulman Foundation, John Foy & Associates, and Northwestern Mutual, recognize your courage and are committed to helping you achieve your academic aspirations. Remember, these scholarships are more than just financial aid – they are a stepping stone to your future. So, explore these opportunities, step forward with determination, and let nothing stand in the way of your educational journey. You have already shown immense strength in the face of adversity, and this is yet another challenge you are more than capable of overcoming.

Even More Scholarship Programs

For additional scholarship programs specifically designed for cancer patients and their families, please visit the Cancer Care News nation’s directory. This resource offers a comprehensive list of scholarships and programs dedicated to supporting individuals and families affected by cancer in their pursuit of education. Access the directory at here . Explore these opportunities and find the support you need to continue your educational journey. ❤️

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College Essay: Driven by my mother’s sacrifices

It was a humid summer day of my fourth year in America when I decided to apply for Advancement Via Individual Determination (AVID) to help me achieve my goal of a college education.

Until I turned 12, I had no hopes, dreams or future. I never imagined myself going to college.

I inhaled a deep breath and checked the “No high school diploma” box for my parents’ education. My mother, a 57-year-old immigrant widow, works every day just to be able to afford a one-bed apartment for a household of four.

On May 9, 2000, I was born in Burma, now known as Myanmar, under the name Naw Saw K Pay Poe. When I turned 2, my dad passed away and life became difficult. I could sense that people looked down on my family because our household leader was no longer a man. Throughout this experience, I felt my mom’s pain, but she never gave up on me. She shows me and everyone around her that she can live without a man.

When I was 5, my family moved to a Thailand refugee camp because my mother wanted greater opportunities for her family. My mom taught me to take advantage of every opportunity that I have. I learned numerous lessons from growing up with my mother. She inspires me through her actions and work ethic.

My school in Thailand was built out of bamboo and there were blackboards instead of smartboards. The school didn’t provide buses, lunch or breakfast. Students were hit with bamboo sticks for not completing assignments as small as memorizing a paragraph.

There were few resources, but it was better than my mother’s education experience. My mom couldn’t afford to pay for school because she had to work each day to survive. In addition, there was limited education due to the long civil war between the Karen and Burmese soldiers.

In the summer of 2012, my family moved to the United States from the Thailand refugee camp, and I became Pay Poe. After moving to the U.S., life became difficult again. It was a new country with new people.

When I arrived at my new school, I had no clue why I was there.

Slowly, I looked up at my tall, smiling teacher and followed her into a room full of my new classmates. I could feel all eyes on me. I was the shortest, smallest and loneliest of all. It felt like I had dropped down into a world where I didn’t belong.

Over time, I learned a lot more about the culture. I knew how to ask for help and began to understand the reasons why my mother left everything and moved to America. I used to go to her and say, “I don’t like school because I don’t have any friends.” She would reassure me and say, “Remember, you don’t need friends to go to school, and we moved here because we want you to be educated.”

My mom’s support and hard work motivate me to value my opportunities. I attend school every day. I’m never late for my classes. I stay organized so there aren’t missing or late assignments. I’m grateful and ready to be the first in my family to attend a university.

Nelson Mandela once said, “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” I am driven by the sacrifices my mom made so that I can achieve my dreams. People can take away our land, our rights, but they can never take away our knowledge.

I work hard because one day I want to check the “College degree” box for my own education and prove that I can overcome challenges and thrive.

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a nonprofit program of the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of St. Thomas, uses the principles of strong writing and reporting to help diverse Minnesota youth tell the stories of their lives and communities.

Cancer for Common App Essay Topic

Hello, My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer between my freshman and sophomore years of high school. She is now healthy and in remission, but the experience was difficult for both of us. I was thinking about writing about this experience for my Common Application essay. Instead of making it a pity essay, I was hoping to focus on how I have grown from their experience and how it inspired me to start a local campaign (with my mom’s support) to spread awareness about preventative care for young women and aid local patients. Would this still be a “cheesy” essay? Thanks!

Not if you are authentic and specific. For example, avoid throwing around general phrases like “Going through this experience with my mother made me realize how fragile life is,” or sticking too much to the generally used narrative: start off in the waiting room with the diagnosis / your mother telling you that she had cancer --> you are devastated --> you watch as she goes through X, Y, and Z --> you feel powerless to help --> you do intensive research on cancer / raise a lot of money for some cancer-related cause --> now you’re interested in becoming a doctor, lol.

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How I told my kids I have cancer

TODAY.com  is re-sharing this essay in light of news that Catherine, Princess of Wales, is undergoing chemotherapy after she was  diagnosed with cancer . In a video shared on social media, the former Kate Middleton addressed a part of the process that many parents with cancer struggle with: how to talk about it with their children. “It has taken us time to explain everything to George, Charlotte and Louis in a way that’s appropriate to them, and to reassure them I’m going to be OK,” she said. Writer and cancer survivor Julie Devaney Hogan shares what worked for her family in the following essay.

“That’s a really good question,” is not what you want to hear when you ask your doctor, “What the hell do I tell my kids?” after being diagnosed with cancer. 

But that’s what I heard, along with a collection of other unhelpful non-answers from various experts, including but not limited to:

“Well, it really depends.”

“There’s no right or wrong answer.”

And my personal favorite …

“Only you as their mom will know what to say.” 

“Really? Because I do not know what to say and I would like some help,” was my answer to that last one.

After I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer in late 2022 and began researching how to tell my children, I felt like the internet and social workers were reading me bad fortune cookie one-liners. 

 I also found lots of conflicting information. 

“Tell them it’s cancer.” “Don’t use the big 'C' word.”

“Prepare them for all possibilities.” “Don’t tell them anything they don’t ask about.”

Don’t millions of people have cancer? How did we gloss over getting this part of the hell ride right? In addition to the information being insufficient and confusing, the content itself struck me as stark. I bought all the books, read all the jargon-filled pamphlets, yet I couldn’t see myself in any of it.

“Mom will be sick.”

“Mom will be bald.”

“Mom won’t be the same for a while.”

For a minute I wondered if I was in denial. Early in the journey I still felt like myself, and I knew that would change, but I certainly didn’t envision myself becoming the same frail, pale, bedridden pencil figure illustrated in the books I was supposed to show my kids. Every image of a mom with cancer reminded me of the grandparents laying in bed in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Couldn’t they at least draw my future sad sick self in these terrible books in something other than beige pajamas?

Weeks into my diagnosis, people in our life were starting to ask me, too. “Do the kids know? How are you going to tell them?”

It struck me that there was no playbook, so I started to piece together something that was more aligned with the authenticity and truth I wanted the conversation to have. I worried the wrong words would instantaneously evict innocence from their souls, immediately catapulting them from the blissfully naive kids they should be at 3, 6 and 8, and into little people with heavy, burdened and scared hearts. 

I decided if this was the fight of my life, I was telling my kids my way. 

My husband, Dave, and I first talked about what we didn’t want. I had a list of 3 things:

• We didn’t want it to feel like a bad TV movie. Eating dinner, the sound of forks on plates, a bomb dropped by parents starting with, “Kids, Mom has some news to share,” children traumatized. We’ve all seen that scene. I didn’t want that scene.
• We didn’t want the conversation to be about mom being “sick.” My mindset since diagnosis has not been that I’m sick, but that I’m healing. 
• We didn’t want any secrets or panic. In our house we say “secrets make you sick,” so we agreed that we’d tell them the full story in a way they could understand and also be able to talk about themselves. There isn’t a lot of “non-panic” language when talking about cancer. Words like cancer, chemotherapy, radiation and mastectomy are pretty heavy. We’d have to get creative. 

Knowing what we didn’t want, we needed to land on what we were actually going to say. 

As someone who has worked in marketing, consulting and technology my entire career, my love language is a slide deck. In my professional life, it’s how I tell stories. I’ve spent many all-nighters “building decks” for big meetings  — I was going to do the same for my family. I found a template and got to work on the most important presentation of my life .

I decided to personify my sickness and boil down an executive summary story for my kids. 

We named the barbell-shaped tumor in my breast Barb. Barb was a boo-boo villain in Mom’s boob, and Barb needed to go. 

The acronym for the clinical trial drug that I was going to take was MARGOT, so Margot was my superhero. I’d be heading into Boston every week to get special Margot medicine through a magical tool called a port, and this would help shrink Barb. 

The slides I showed my kids:

We chose a Saturday morning to have “the talk.” We were purposeful about the day and time so the kids had the whole day with us if they had questions (not off to a school bus) and also not so close to bedtime that their little minds could race alone. In heavy avoidance of the sad TV movie scene — while we were around a table, there was no meal — we were playing a game together, something we frequently do. A funny one, too (Kids Against Maturity — I highly recommend it). The mood was light and we were laughing.

No sad sounds of forks on plates. 

I presented the slides to the kids after we wrapped up our game, telling them I had something I wanted everyone to know about. We introduced Barb and Margot, and talked about the side effects of Margot, and what would happen in the weeks and months to come.

Bringing to life the cancer that was trying to take my life was ironically empowering. By doing this, you don’t hear us talk about “Mom’s cancer” much in our house. We talk about Barb (and hearing their little Boston accents say "Barb" makes me smile).

There are two words we decided to omit from our slides: cancer and death. 

We wanted to give our kids the most important stuff first (what’s happening, what to expect), and decided we’d answer questions when they brought them to us. 

A few weeks later, my 8-year-old asked me if Barb was cancer. 

“Yes, she is,” I told him. He then asked how we’d get her out during surgery, if she had legs and if I could keep her in a jar.  

“Can I still call her Barb, though?” he asked.

“Yup, that’s who she is,” I told him. “She’s Barb.” 

Last week I underwent a double mastectomy . As my middle son puts it, “Barb has buzzed off.” I had trace amounts of cancer remaining, but the majority of Barb (and the friends she made in 7 lymph nodes) is gone, as a result of the chemotherapy I received before surgery. I will start low-dose chemotherapy and radiation as an insurance policy to make sure nothing comes back. We told our kids, “Barb is gone — now we burn her house down so she can’t come back!”

The question I haven’t been asked is, “Could you die?” It’s a question I dread more than my treatments and surgery, one I know is coming, and one that truly does not have a right answer. 

While my prognosis remains curable, aggressive stage 3 cancer leaves me in a place where the unknowns can erode you quickly if you don’t quiet them. I don’t want my kids to carry that, and I also don’t want to lie to them. 

My planned answer is, “I don’t plan to!” 

And that’s the authentic truth. 

Do you have a personal essay to share with TODAY? Please send your ideas to  [email protected] .

Julie Devaney Hogan is from the Boston area, mother to David (8), Ryan (6) and Clare (3), and wife of 10 years to the love of her life, Dave. She is a tech executive by day, lover of all things beach and ski by weekend, and is currently busy kicking breast cancer’s butt as a patient at Boston’s Dana Farber Cancer Institute. She is also the founder of  SeasonforSqueezin.org , a nonprofit focused on breast cancer action.

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5 Reflections on Living a Long Life With Cancer

Reflections on living with cancer from a fellow traveler on this journey..

Posted August 25, 2022 | Reviewed by Jessica Schrader

• Sc(anxiety) is a feature, not a bug, of living with cancer.
• Families and friends are important parts of the cancer journey, long after treatment is complete.
• Evidence shows that having a health care team you trust is essential to quality of life post-cancer treatment.

This month marks my sixth year since being diagnosed with colorectal cancer (which I’ve written about here ).

Since that initial diagnosis in August 2016, I have marked the passage of time with an additional calendar layer dictated by the doctors and nurses that were working to save my life. Initially, this calendar was quite packed and each event felt like a major turning point where I could fall off course: Days of pre-operative assessments, day of surgery, days of hospitalization, visits from the home health care nurse every three days, four weeks until the post-operative assessment, etc.

Then, once the most acute phase of my care was over, the calendar settled into one of surveillance, watching for potentially ominous changes: quarterly blood draws and doctor visits, annual colonoscopies, and—most terrifying to me—annual CT scans to look for metastases to my liver, lung, or something else that it is difficult to live without.

For five years, from August 2016 to August 2021, that was my clock. This is the first August in five years that I have not had to drink 32 ounces of a “mocha shake” ( narrator note: tastes nothing like a mocha shake but will ruin frappucinos for you forever ) of barium sulfate to prepare for the scan. The first August in five years when I have not felt the terror of waiting alone in the small, cold room—trying to not pass out from fear —after changing into a far-too-large hospital gown. The first August in five years I have not heard the “voice” of the incredible machine that allows my doctors to see what is otherwise impossible for them to assess until it is too late telling me to “Hold my breath ... Breathe” as radiation moves through me. The first August in five years when I have struggled to stay present and think positive as I await the call from my doctor telling me what the scan showed—which for five years was the best news a cancer patient can ask for: “No evidence of disease.”

After five years of such surveillance, the evidence (or, perhaps more cynically, the cost-savings to the health care system) that ongoing scans are worth it from a risk-benefit ratio isn’t needed. And so you get discharged from your cancer care team. Your time and how you mark it, such as it is, is yours again. In the parlance of some (I do not use nor do I like this term), you are a “survivor.”

And so, in recognition of that time and the lessons I’ve learned during it, I am offering five reflections on living with cancer, intended for others who are on this journey and the people who love them. This reflection embodies much of the empirical research in psycho-oncology that has developed over the past 30 years, summarized earlier this year in an editorial by David Kissane.

• Sc( anxiety ) is a feature, not a bug, of living with cancer.

The medical profession loves jargon. The term they have coined for the intense fear that most cancer patients who have completed their treatment feel about their disease, especially during those regular blood tests and scans that make up the surveillance component of care, is “fear of cancer recurrence” (FCR), defined as “fear, worry, or concern relating to the possibility that cancer will come back or progress.” The acronym and definition do not even remotely reflect the existential terror that I experienced whenever I would lay down for my CT scan, which bordered on depersonalization.

With the caveat that most studies of “FCR” have been limited to people who have experienced breast cancer, researchers estimate that about two-thirds of individuals report unmet needs related to fears around cancer recurrence, unmet needs regarding information about their health post-treatment, and negative expectations about their lives going forward, etc. The loudness and obtrusiveness of these existential questions (e.g., What will happen to my family if the cancer comes back? What does it mean to be a "cancer survivor"? ) that only emerge after treatment is complete are a part of the journey that can be difficult to process, especially because at the beginning the entire purpose of the journey appears to be to complete treatment. But that is a false peak : completing surgery, chemotherapy, or radiation is not the true destination of the experience of living with cancer. They are simply sights along the way. Appreciating that sc(anxiety) is an expected, rational part of the journey is an important component of adjusting to living with cancer.

2. You are not going through this alone.

You are not the only one who is terrified of the cancer returning. Your partner, your parents, your children, your friends, and even your doctors are also fearful of that.

Of course, friends and families—even when they mean well—may not be able to provide the kind of support you need. You may even be angry at them for not “showing up” in the way you wanted them to. And if your relationships were challenging before cancer, they will likely also be challenging—potentially to the breaking point—after cancer.

Even if your family and friends are supporting you, it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t benefit from talking to others who know exactly what it is like to walk in your shoes. Support groups are not just for people who are in the thick of cancer treatment—they also serve to support people dealing with the aforementioned existential questions that cancer lays on your table. I only started attending support groups when I was about 12-18 months out from completing my treatment. Most of the people in my group were similarly “seasoned” in their journeys, and many of them were several years out from completing treatment.

3. Hope is a verb.

Getting a cancer diagnosis is traumatic . And we know that trauma can be harmful for mental and physical health. However, we also know that adversity can also spur incredibly meaningful personal growth, compassion for oneself and others, and deep, positive reflection and connections with others.

Research shows that factors that support such positive changes include being physically active and having a health care support team that is engaged and informative. These are modifiable determinants, and should be the focus of post-treatment cancer surveillance care. As someone who was failed by the health care system ( by being misdiagnosed for nine months ) before I was saved by it, I have a deep appreciation for the importance of having a health care team that sees you as a person, not a patient or a case. And if you do not have that, it may be time to fire them and find a new one.

4. There will come a day when your experience with cancer is not the first thing you think of when you wake up.

For me, that took about 65 months from the time I was diagnosed, but I am finally here.

5. Make peace with your body.

Yes, technically , your body tried to kill you. Cancer cells aren’t foreign invaders: they are your cells, with your (mutant) DNA , growing with impunity in ways and in places they shouldn’t for other parts of your body to work. And as a result, for a long time after my diagnosis I didn’t trust my body. That is to say, I believed it was still trying to kill me, even though my doctors had told me I was NED. Any moment of light-headedness when standing signaled to me that the cancer had spread to my brain. Any shortness of breath from climbing the stairs meant that it had spread to my lungs. For the first few years after my diagnosis, I lived in fear of my body, and what it was capable of.

And then, for the first time in my life, I started running. Not because my doctors told me to or because I had read that it was important for post-traumatic growth , but because—for me—running was one of the few things that helped me form connections between my (fearful) mind and my (recovering) body. I couldn’t think about how afraid I was when I was so focused on keeping my legs moving. After a year, I ran 5 miles, which was farther than I had ever thought possible. The next year I ran a half-marathon. And then a second. And today I don’t run, but I do pilates and strength training, and through movement I have made peace with my body. It is capable of amazing things—of carrying me further and faster than I ever thought possible.

Your body will likely carry markers of your cancer journey forever. Some of those markers are visible to others (I tell people who ask that the round 2-inch scar on my abdomen, a leftover from when my intestines were literally re-routed outside my body via an ostomy, is from the time that I was shot, because that was how acute my diagnosis felt when I first received it), and some of them are not. Those scars, pains, etc. are part of your story, but they are not your whole story—and making peace with my body is what has helped me distinguish the two.

I hope to live a long life, and I look forward to the same milestones that I did before I got sick. I am more intentional about pursuing them now, because I also know that there are no guarantees that I will have the life I hope for. And I work every day to make peace with that fact, using the tools I described here. I hope my fellow travelers on this journey and their families will find this helpful, and I wish you all many years of love, peace, and health as you reset your clocks for the years ahead.

Lebel S., Ozakinci G., Humphris G., Mutsaers B., Thewes B., Prins J., et al.. (2016). From normal response to clinical problem: definition and clinical features of fear of cancer recurrence. Support. Care Cancer 24, 3265–3268. 10.1007/s00520-016-3272-5

Shanafelt, Tait, Alex Adjei, and Frank L. Meyskens. "When your favorite patient relapses: physician grief and well-being in the practice of oncology." Journal of clinical oncology 21.13 (2003): 2616-2619.

Urbutienė E, Pukinskaitė R. Fear of Cancer Recurrence as Reminder About Death: Lived Experiences of Cancer Survivors' Spouses. Omega (Westport). 2022 Aug 22:302228221123152. doi: 10.1177/00302228221123152.

Soriano EC, Perndorfer C, Siegel SD, Laurenceau JP. Threat sensitivity and fear of cancer recurrence: a daily diary study of reactivity and recovery as patients and spouses face the first mammogram post-diagnosis. J Psychosoc Oncol. 2019 Mar-Apr;37(2):131-144. doi: 10.1080/07347332.2018.1535532.

Evans C, Saliba-Serre B, Préau M, Bendiane MK, Gonçalves A, Signoli M, Bouhnik AD. Post-traumatic growth 5 years after cancer: identification of associated actionable factors. Support Care Cancer. 2022 Jul 12. doi: 10.1007/s00520-022-07253-6. Epub ahead of print. PMID: 35821449.

Jewett PI, Vogel RI, Galchutt P, Everson-Rose SA, Teoh D, Radomski M, Blaes AH. Associations between a sense of connection and existential and psychosocial outcomes in gynecologic and breast cancer survivors. Support Care Cancer. 2022 Apr;30(4):3329-3336. doi: 10.1007/s00520-021-06784-8. Epub 2022 Jan 5. PMID: 34985561; PMCID: PMC8727470.

Briana Mezuk, Ph.D. , is a Professor of Epidemiology and Director of the Center for Social Epidemiology and Population Health at the University of Michigan's School of Public Health.

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How Much To Share About Cancer In An Admissions Essay

• August 6, 2018

Michele Rosenthal has worked at colleges and universities throughout the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic in administrative leadership, student affairs and currently as an academic dean. In addition to acting as an educational consultant, she has also supported AYAs affected by cancer, as a Cancer to College Transition Coach.  Lacuna Loft is super excited to offer her expertise to you today!

Michele has helped AYAs seek the accommodations (e.g. academic services, residential living, disability services) they need to make their college experience a success!

Here she offers AYAs, preparing to take the next step in their academic careers, insights from university insiders regarding how much to share in an admissions essay:

When I help young adults navigate the College and Cancer process, I am always inspired by their motivation and strong will. Diagnosis, treatment and survivorship can be all consuming and it is often hard to separate cancer identity from the rest of one’s identity. I thought it best to pose the question of how much to share, to experienced admissions administrators. Once I asked the question the responses were immediate.

In preparation for writing an admissions application:

“When meeting a prospective student, through either personal essay or interview, I am most convinced by those students who can talk about personal issues—health, poverty, abuse—in ways that recognize the difficulties in dealing with hardship without defining themselves as victims. They tend to acknowledge the past and perhaps the present as part of their history and, within that, describe their plans for the future. For me, that acceptance often seems to spawn a resilience that returns or carries the student forward on a successful path to college life and beyond.” Former Director of Admissions, 4-year Liberal Arts college

“They should not feel that telling their story would be viewed negatively in the college process. How they frame the statement is important. It’s a significant part of their life’s journey to this point. I’m sure none of them would want to define themselves or all future opportunities by their cancer, but we’d all be foolish to think that having cancer won’t be with them forever. Telling their story through their lessons learned, obstacles overcome, or even continued challenges on an on-going basis will help us to better know them as individuals, which I have always argued is the entire point of a college essay.” Vice President Admissions and Enrollment, 4-year Business college

“By and large, this is not about asking anyone to feel sorry for an applicant, but about demonstrating that the student has shown perseverance. No university is going to admit a student because he or she has or had cancer. The grades and scores still need to be there, but nearly all institutions weigh the challenges a student faces in order to reach those achievements. If a student has a period where grades suffer, it is often important to explain these in the context of life events. This is most effective where the applicant is able to demonstrate improvement.” Senior Vice President of Students and Enrollment, 4-year Research university

For me and hopefully for you, the responses help to put the young adult cancer journey in a helpful context. It is important to frame challenges in a way that will help an admissions officer learn about who you are and to understand and appreciate your aspirations and future goals and dreams.

With that said, if you have been wondering if you should apply, please stop wondering!

Commit your pen to paper or your fingers to a keyboard and begin to draft your story. Your story is uniquely yours and your identity is composed of a myriad of experiences that have made you who you are. Your cancer journey is real, but it is not your whole story.

We thank Michele for the incredible support she provides AYAs! If you feel you could benefit from Michele’s coaching services, she can be reached at [email protected]!

Originally published by TUFTS AYA Program Blog.

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Holes – A Survivor’s College Essay

One year ago, Matthew Buff, a leukemia survivor, was fine-tuning his college applications. Today, he is a busy freshman at Emory University majoring in biology on a pre-med track. Matthew's personal goal is to become a pediatric oncologist focused on genetic research. The following is his college admissions essay. 

A round piece of silicone wrapped in a metal ring about the size of a quarter. If you tip it slightly, at just the right angle, where it catches the light, you would see hundreds of tiny holes covering the entirety of its surface. A miniature vacated battlefield of a war once won. It may not look like much to most people, but this tiny piece of plastic riddled with needle holes called a port or port-a-cath, helped to save my life and is now my visual inspiration to help others.

In the beginning, each hole could have easily represented another round of chemotherapy, spinal tap, blood transfusion, hospitalization, surgery or enrollment into a new study to treat my leukemia. They could also represent another day unable to attend school, each time being isolated from friends, and too many middle-of-the-night trips to the emergency room that would ultimately lead to another round of pokes, tests and abruptly waking to the beeping alarm of my IV pole early the next morning.

However, as my body has recuperated over the past five years since completing cancer treatment, the meaning of each hole has also transformed. Each hole now represents a lesson learned, a person met through my experience and the opportunity to make impactful change or people affected by catastrophic illness.

My parents and doctors have always encouraged me to not let my experience with cancer define me. I believe I have done a good job of incorporating that into my daily life, relationships and pursued interests. However, as I have matured and started to gain new experiences in life, I have chosen to reconnect with my past and allow it to acutely influence my perspective. I can’t help but to see the world from a slightly different angle than my peers after experiencing the delicateness and resiliency of life by age 12. I no longer view those years in and out of the hospital as negative, but a gift to help shape my abilities and sharpen my purpose.

From a very young age, I’ve learned to be an advocate for myself, to be an effective communicator, how to endure and thrive through challenges, become a capable and independent learner and find joy in contributing back to the community that surrounded me during my time of need. I want to now expand on those experiences and create new and meaningful relationships within the college environment that will continue to mold how I see the world and my future contributions within it.

I want to bravely explore other “holes” people have endured within their own lives, sit with them, and begin to find ways to alleviate their struggles through the commonalities of the human experience. If we can appreciate our differences, yet focus on what connects us, I believe there would be more peace in the world and fewer opportunities for any kind of pain and suffering. Empathy and compassion, in combination with technology and research, has the potential to redefine health and care. I intend for my experience and knowledge to be part of this progress.

My current objective is to build my college education with a concentration in biology and life sciences with the goal to become a research oncologist. Beyond my academic interest in those areas, I believe shifting my experiences from patient or receiver of care, to student of science with the intent to deliver care, will provide me the knowledge and holistic perspective to begin to develop the passion and endurance necessary to make a life-long commitment to healing through medicine.

We can’t always choose the experiences that shape us into who we are meant to be, but we can utilize them to empower ourselves, inspire each other and help others. Holes don’t have to be permanent; they can be the necessary foundation to begin to build something important and meaningful. We must be willing to excavate our own comfort, take risk, overcome challenges, plant new footings and create solutions to fill the gaps that are exposed in both our own lives, and in the lives of the people around us. Sometimes, if we look at things from a slightly different angle, like when the light reflects off my port, we can find new solutions to effectively and completely fill each new hole.

Written by Matthew Buff   Matthew was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia in March 2009. Now six years beyond treatment, he is a college student working towards his goal of becoming a pediatric oncologist focused on genetic research. 

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my mom's fight with cancer--- Common App essay

androidman 3 / 4   Aug 6, 2011   #2 Actually, i don't prefer to read long texts. However, i read your essay with a great enthusiasm and forget about correcting mistakes. Good luck!

Powerfuldog 5 / 9   Aug 6, 2011   #3 Fantastic essay. Provides depth, emotion, and shows how your responsibilities meant giving up some of your privileges (like basketball). any suggestions for my activities essay? "During the Global Music Festival I organized for the Emeritus Assisted Living Center, I sang the soulful Carnatic song Endaro, a composition honoring great individuals. As I finished, I felt frail hands softly tap at my shoulders. The sincerest of smiles greeted me. Howard, a 90-year old textbook of human life, was one of my closest friends at the center. Each visit to the center invoked colorful and vivid stories from the vast annals of his life; closing my eyes, I would vicariously imbibe his rebellious life as a Beatnik or his proud national service during World War 2. Whether we talked while playing Bingo or eating Dessert, our heartfelt conversations helped me mature as an individual and understand the true value of close human relationships. The fateful weekend that Howard passed away, I sang Endaro to personally honor the compassionate soul who, in 3 years, transformed a callow boy into an attentive and empathetic adolescent."

OP raza68 5 / 23   Aug 7, 2011   #4 Thanks guys!

dongjunenator 3 / 6   Dec 20, 2011   #5 who's we in the beginning of this essay? With an acceptance of admission into University of North Carolina and the ability to be part of the world renowned biology department at University of North Carolina, I plan on furthering my knowledge of the human body and biology to prepare myself for the life of an altruistic doctor I think this sentence needs some work. Maybe include the names of specific programs or organizations at UNC instead of just talking about how you'll further your knowledge with an acceptance of admission. What are some unique aspects of UNC and its biology programs? research? the professors? But overall, this was really easy to read. I think you did a great job. P.S. hope your mother is doing well. My mom was recently diagnosed with cancer as well. Good luck to both of us!

OP raza68 5 / 23   Dec 21, 2011   #6 Thanks! I hope all goes well with your mom's cancer! Just remember to not give up hope, and good luck with college apps! Anyone else have any suggestions?

Prettywings 1 / 74   Dec 21, 2011   #7 I think this is an excellent essay. You articulate your interests in becoming a doctor, and answered the essay prompt very well. The only thing I would add is more specificity in your comments about UNC having a world renowned biology department--perhaps mentioning a professor by name, or notable alumni, etc. But overall, I think you have a well-crafted essay.

OP raza68 5 / 23   Dec 21, 2011   #8 I actaully worked on the ending. Tell me what you guys think: It has now been roughly five years since my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and I can happily say that she is doing well. Those years were hard on all of us. Still, because of those years, I have grown into the person I am today. This arduous time has helped me discover my place in this world. I now realize that I must give back to society by being a doctor. I am indebted to those doctors who helped my mother get better, and, as a result, I have found a love for this field of medicine. Thus, with an acceptance of admission into University of North Carolina and the ability to be part of the world renowned biology department featuring brilliant researchers and professors such as Greogory Copenhaver, I plan on furthering my knowledge of the human body and biology to prepare myself for the life of an altruistic doctor.

Prettywings 1 / 74   Dec 22, 2011   #9 Great! Now add a little blurb about his research. You may say something to the extent: "featuring brilliant researchers and professors such as Greogory Copenhaver, whose research on (cells, etc.) I find intriguing and is fully in line with my own research interests and career objectives." (something like that.) :) Also, your last sentence is somewhat odd. I understand what you are saying, but the admissions committee may not. Perhaps you could say something like: to and prepare devote myself for the to a life of an altruistic doctor altruism.

OP raza68 5 / 23   Dec 22, 2011   #10 Thanks! That should help quite a bit. So, how does this sound (it may sound like too much in one sentence... should I break it up or leave it as is)? Thus, with an acceptance of admission into University of North Carolina and the ability to work with brilliant researchers and professors such as Gregory Copenhaver, whose research on genetics is fully in line with my own research interests, I plan on furthering my knowledge of biology and devoting myself to a life of altruism.

Prettywings 1 / 74   Dec 22, 2011   #11 Yes, much better. I think by adding the professor's name, as well as his area of research shows that you have done a little bit of research on your own. I also think you should leave the sentence as is. I think you'll do well.

jasononwenu 5 / 19   Dec 22, 2011   #12 This essay is excellent. I am writing something like this, in terms of motherly affections and how much my mother/family means to me, and I think any topics regarding this is a very good college essay topic.

This guide is for young people who have a parent with cancer. You are not alone. Find out what has helped other teens get through this tough time.

Use this guide to get information and advice on:

• Ways to deal with changes your family may go through
• Dealing with stress
• Finding support and talking with your friends
• How you can help yourself and your parent
• Cancer, treatments, and side effects
• Life after treatment and the road ahead
• Additional resources and organizations

Tested and developed with advice from teens, this guide includes quotes from teens who have a parent with cancer, checklists to help you get support from others, and a section of related organizations and resources.  

The information in this booklet was last updated in February 2012.