A few weeks before my nineteenth birthday, I was sitting next to my mom when she noticed something odd—my left eye wasn’t aligning with my right. At first, we laughed it off, thinking it looked funny. But my mom, always the vigilant one, made an appointment with a neuro-ophthalmologist just in case.

The specialist checked my eye and asked us to come back when he’d have more time for testing. Two weeks later, we returned, and that’s when he asked if I’d been seeing double. I had. I hadn’t even thought to mention it. He said I had sixth cranial nerve palsy—something that could be caused by an infection, or, in rarer cases… a brain tumor.

He ordered an MRI, blood work, and a chest X-ray. The blood work and X-ray came back normal. But the MRI changed everything.

I still remember the moment. I was working on my online classes when my mom came into my room, visibly upset, and handed me the phone. It was my doctor.

He told me they had found a mass in my brain pressing on my sixth cranial nerve. It might be a rare bone cancer called chordoma, which grows at the base of the skull.

Two days after my birthday, the diagnosis was confirmed.

Everything changed.

I had surgery to remove the tumor, but the path wasn’t easy. There were complications—brain fluid leaks, infections—and even after all that, a piece of the tumor remained. So I underwent proton radiation therapy to try and remove what was left.

I’ve now been in partial remission for nearly a year.

Along the way, I developed other health conditions—chronic nerve pain, thyroid disease, and Hashimoto’s—but I also had something more powerful than any diagnosis: hope, and a team of incredible doctors who never gave up on me.

About ten months ago, I had eye surgery to help correct my vision. That eye—once stuck inward—is now straight again.

And I didn’t stop living.

When I was diagnosed, I had just started college. Today, I’m a junior, studying psychology and music. I sing in the college choir, perform in theater, and stay involved in student life. My future is still bright—maybe even brighter than before.

I dream of getting my Master’s in mental health counseling and becoming a therapist for youth living with rare diseases or disabilities. I want to use my voice in more ways than one—whether it’s performing in a symphony or helping someone through their hardest days.

Maybe I’ll even try out for America’s Got Talent someday. Why not?

I don’t share my story for sympathy—I share it because this is what hope looks like.

Because I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I’m still dreaming.
And I’m still singing.

Thank you to the Lord for every day I get to keep going. ❤️