Blind Courage,
Clear Vision

Blind Courage is what it takes to endure the crudeness of human suffering. Clear Vision is what it takes to find meaning in life.

As a 30-year-old blind woman and four-time cancer survivor facing leukemia for a fifth time, I feel humbled by the potential of the human spirit.

If, at 24 years of age, someone had asked me if I thought I could endure acute lymphoblastic leukemia, chemo-resistant acute myeloid leukemia, three relapses of my first leukemia, and suddenly waking up one day blind with no light perception, I would have told them, “No way. Never.” As a 24-year-old medical doctor, if someone had asked me if a patient could endure all of that, I would have said, “Extremely unlikely. I don’t think so.”

Now, in my early 30s, after six years of fighting leukemia, more than six regimens of chemotherapy, two bone marrow transplants, CAR-T therapy, and three clinical trials, I am still willing to fight for my life for a fifth time, with more Blind Courage than ever before.

October 4, 2019, the day I was first diagnosed with leukemia, and December 26, 2020, the day I woke up blind with no light perception, marked pivotal moments in my life. After 25 years of waking up to daylight, I was now greeted by darkness every morning. The months that followed were the worst and most frightening of my life. Not used to this reality, a panic attack always followed. The beeping of the monitors and my hands gripping the bed rails reminded me that I was alive — but blind. What came after this was excruciating sorrow and confusion. I still had my life, which I held dearest, but I would never again see the faces of those I loved the most. “Is it worth it?” That question crossed my mind every morning, but then I heard it: the voices of my loved ones greeting me as they entered the room and the touch of their hands. Love was still out there, giving meaning to my life and clearing my vision. Immediately, I had my answer: “Yes, it is worth it.”

To rebuild my life, I had to overcome too many obstacles with virtually no assistance and find new passions and goals. Through YouTube tutorials, I taught myself the basic skills needed to navigate life as a blind person. Learning to use screen readers, white canes, assistive technology, techniques to organize my clothes, and building a life centered on memory in order to function in society were among the many obstacles I overcame. To make the challenge even harder, I had to rebuild my life while being repeatedly interrupted by relapses of acute lymphoblastic leukemia. These meant treatment with chemotherapy, a second bone marrow transplant, three clinical trials, and CAR-T therapy.

To my astonishment, with time and perseverance, I was able to practice again as a blind physician, complete a Master of Science, be admitted to Master of Public Health programs at Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Yale, Columbia, and Brown, and be accepted into a Post-Doctoral Fellowship Program at the National Cancer Institute of the National Institutes of Health.

At the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, widely regarded as the best school of public health in the world, I am the second Costa Rican in at least 21 years to complete an MPH. Moreover, I am the only one to earn a Sommer Scholarship Award, be part of the Sommer Scholars Program, and be nominated and soon inducted into the Delta Omega Public Health Honor Society. I am also one of two Delta Omega 2026 inductees from the entire Bloomberg School of Public Health to receive the Dr. Timothy Baker Award for International Development.

However, these achievements have not come without extraordinary effort, determination, and commitment. I grapple endlessly with frustration, but I fight back with even greater tenacity and perseverance. I push the boundaries of accessibility wherever I go, advocating for the inclusion of blind people. Currently, I am completing my MPH, with an expected graduation in late May, while simultaneously receiving chemotherapy to fight cancer for a fifth time, after another relapse of acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

As a medical doctor and a candidate for a Master of Public Health, I like to be guided by evidence. However, the complexity and uniqueness of my case leave me without evidence to stand on, only the judgement of experts. Most importantly, as a Catholic, I hope and pray for healing, but I know it is not my choice. It is His.

Blind Courage is what it takes for me to endure blindness and leukemia for a fifth time. Clear Vision is what it took for me to understand that my loved ones are the living personification of meaning in my life — the ultimate form of love.