It’s surreal to say this, but I’ve officially finished my senior year of college. As I sit here thinking about what’s next—graduation, career, adulting (whatever that really means)—I can’t help but look back. Not just at the last few years of college, but at everything it took to get here. And wow… It’s been a lot.
When most people reflect on their college experience, they talk about classes, friends, internships, maybe some late-night pizza runs or cramming for finals. And yeah, I’ve had all of that. But my journey into college, and through it has been anything but typical.
At 15, being diagnosed with brain cancer. Life wasn’t about high school or driving or sports or prom. It became about MRIs, surgeries, chemo, radiation. About surviving. Those years of treatment were long, exhausting, and full of unknowns. My hair fell out, my body changed, and the meds started piling up. I went from thinking about college applications to wondering if I’d even make it to graduation.
And when treatment ended, a different kind of challenge began. Survivorship isn’t
something people talk about enough. I stepped back into the world, but I wasn’t the
same, and the world wasn’t the same to me. My body still felt weak, my brain wasn’t firing like it used to, and socially, I felt like I was constantly trying to catch up. My friends had stories about parties and sports and dating, and I had stories about hospitals, side effects and port flushes.
By the time I finally got to college, I felt like I was starting five steps behind everyone else. I wasn’t just learning how to navigate a campus. I was learning how to manage brain fog, hormone meds, a strict hydration schedule, and the mental pressure of being that kid who’d been through more than anyone my age should.
But instead of giving up or checking out, I leaned in. I had worked too hard and come too far to waste the opportunity I’d been given. I remember the nerves that came with asking my professors for testing accommodations, the awkwardness of explaining why I needed to take pills during class, or the times I had to leave group projects early to get home before fatigue took over. None of that was easy. But I showed up anyway. Every single day. Because I knew what it was like to be stuck in a hospital bed wishing for a normal day. And now that I had one, I wasn’t going to take it for granted.
And then there’s JZips.
What started as a small idea of making zippered shirts for kids going through treatment, turned into something way bigger. It’s crazy to think I launched JZips while still in high school. It gave me something to pour my mind into during the darkest parts of treatment, and over the years, it’s given me a sense of purpose I can’t even fully describe. Seeing other kids wearing JZips shirts, hearing from parents who say it made one small part of their journey easier… it’s everything. It reminds me that the pain I went through wasn’t for nothing. That something good can grow from even the hardest circumstances.
Now, as senior year has come to a close, I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s next. Where I want to go. Who I want to be. I’ve worked hard in school, balancing my coursework with JZips, medications, and everything that comes with being a survivor. There were semesters I didn’t think I’d finish, moments I doubted myself, and nights I felt totally burnt out. But here I am. Still pushing. Still showing up.
The truth is, cancer changed me. It took a lot, but it also gave me things like resilience, perspective, and an insane level of grit. It taught me how to advocate for myself. How to lead. How to build something from scratch and keep it alive with passion and purpose. It’s made me deeply empathetic, but also stronger than I ever thought I could be.
As I get ready to graduate, I feel more ready than ever to take everything I’ve
learned—through life and through school—and apply it to whatever comes next.
Whether that’s growing JZips, working in the marketing space, or finding new ways to help others, I know I’m bringing something real to the table. Not just a degree, but a story. A drive. A perspective rooted in lived experience.
I’ll never forget where I started. Every port access, every scan, every tough day in class where I pushed through even when my brain didn’t want to cooperate—it all brought me here. And now I’m ready. Not just to move forward, but to make an impact.
Let’s see where this next chapter leads.
– Jordan