In retrospect, overcoming Stage III cancer is the best-worst thing that has ever happened to me. I took the razor to my head with a chuckle, and started shaving away the hair that would have fallen anyway due to the ongoing chemotherapy. In the mirror: Lord Voldermort staring back at me (or maybe it was the bald guy from the cleaning product), but I was seriously digging this look! Honestly, having a watermelon-smooth head is not exactly what I expected in my junior year of high school, but this experience undoubtedly shaped who I am today.
When I was first diagnosed with lymphatic cancer, I laughed. Life had run out of creative obstacles to throw my way, so the only leftover choice was "Hmm... let's try cancer." I was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions and uncertainties, but when I really processed it, I was determined to overcome this illness and let it be a plaque of honor on my wall. I would have to confront this anyway, so instead of focusing on the negative side, I decided to see the positive learning experiences.
One day in the midst of treatment, I woke up as the luminous light rays were just starting to shine through my window. The pupils of my eyelash-free eyes adjusted as I sat on the bed and looked out towards the front lawn. For a few seconds, I saw an eight year old me: running around with his point-and-shoot camera and tiny tripod that he got for Christmas, wanting to retell the story of Godzilla. I saw a passionate, dedicated, and creative storyteller outside my window: that is exactly who I was. This epiphany got me on my toes, and made me realize that I had taken for granted all the time I'd previously had to exploit my talents; I had been happy all my life and simply wasn't aware. From this moment on, cancer was no restriction for me: I felt like a giant with the world in his hands. I was receiving gut-wrenching medications and writing my next big film production, getting poked on one arm with a neddle and using the other one to edit on my laptop, and facing up at the dull ceiling during long hospital stays, carefully framing the shots with the proper camera lenses, balancing the color palette of the scene, and directing the actors: all in my head. This unexpected period was a creativity renaissance for me.
Months later the phone rang, creating vast tension for those who heard it on speaker, but it was a relief once Dr. Barredo said "Your scans came back clean, kid. You're done with treatment! Now go eat some pizza and celebrate." That emotional night, I started crafting my comeback and wrote a self-documentary of my journey battling cancer, in hopes of sharing my story with the world and inspiring those who fight the same fight. I gathered the clips dancing with the nurses, the late night guitar sessions in the hospital, and the reality of being a childhood cancer fighter, never knowing that my story would attract millions of viewers - of which thousands reached out in support. I partnered with childhood cancer foundations and spoke at events, helped fundraise for research, and even ran a 5k to raise awareness - eight days after finishing treatment - all while reminding myself of how I could use my talents and voice to represent and inspire those who didn't feel theirs was loud enough.
Yes, cancer was the best-worst thing to happen to me. I look back at the seriouness of the matter and recognize how difficult it was, but it also opened doors for me that I didn't even know existed. It led me to new paths, to meeting new people and friends, and to appreciate life. Yet most importantly, it made me understand how passionate I am for what I love doing most: telling stories.
