Once in a while you come across a person that you feel has something extra special. Madeline T. Paguyo was one of those people. She was only a young teen when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor, diffuse pontine glioma. Maddie was diagnosed April 28th, 2003 and she passed away May 6, 2004

I came across her webpage one day and was so inspired by how mature and wise Maddie was for her young age. Maddie's mom still blogs about her amazing family and how they are coping with losing a precious daughter and loving sister.

Maddie's mom tells us in her blog "Frequently I find myself browsing (Maddie's) library researching how to successfully navigate through life. Maddie did it so well. She exuded true joy and generously shared it with everyone she could. When confronted, at such a young age, with the biggest challenge anyone can imagine, she stared it right in the eyes, told the tumor to take a hike, and chose happiness. Simple as that. She chose to live, and every one of us who were privileged by her presence in our lives lived right along with her, learning from her example."

Maddie wrote an essay for her eighth grade class that takes you through her experience.

Essay: by Maddie Paguyo

I sat in a cold room waiting. The walls were grey with a border on them. As the clock ticked, the walls seemed to close in on me. My growing anticipation filled each corner of the room. "Come on," I thought. "I want to go home."
The door opened and in walked two women. One woman spoke and introduced herself. The other woman sat next to us with a white look on her face.

"We found the cause of your headaches. We believe they are caused by a brain tumor; a fairly large mass."

The words all ran together from there. A brain tumor? Me? Why? I can't say I believed the doctor when she told me. It was only certain words and actions that confirmed this was not a dream;

survival rates, treatment plans, neurological tests, tears.

The shock was so great and yet the feeling was so present.
A throbbing pain in my throat and chest developed. I wanted to burst open and scream as if I were a firework on the fourth of July.
My mom, who sat next to me, wrapped her arm around me tightly. The couch we sat on suddenly felt small. I began to sweat and that ball in my throat grew. My legs shook like a toddler taking their first steps. My mother's arm turned purple as I grasped it in my sweating hands for support.
From then on, it was like running a marathon. Appointments every day, pills every hour, needles and pokes every week, and fear and anxiety every second of every day.
I tried my hardest to be strong and calm, trying to act like I was fine, like I was healthy, like I was normal. I knew in order for everyone around me to be comfortable, I had to be. So I gave it a try; for my family, for my friends, for my doctors, my classmates, my teachers, for my own sake.
Soon enough, I'd forgotten my fear. I had gotten so wrapped up in masking it that I was almost a foreign visitor to my own emotions.
A few weeks passed until I was reminded why I was ever scared. I had been napping when I woke up gasping for air.

"Mom!" I tried yelling. Nothing came out. "Mom!" I fought through my coughing.

I heard footsteps quickly moving on the floor, the floorboards creaking with every step.

"Maddie, are you okay?" my mom asked.

It hurt so much. Every time I inhaled, it felt like a rock grew in my stomach. When I'd exhale, it felt like the rock exploded into a million pieces, slamming throughout my entire stomach.
I recall waking in an ambulance. "Pontine glioma," everyone around me was whispering. The same pain was still present. "Oww, make it stop," I remember saying, or maybe it was just a thought.
My mind was rolling with "what ifs" and "how abouts". On the outside I remained calm and unbelievably tolerant. I knew in order to get better, I possibly had to get worse. I rested in comfort knowing that everyone around me was doing everything they could to help me.
With a smile on my face and all that pain inside me, I felt a warmness.I was alright. Everything would be okay. I was the winner, not this brain tumor. It had no right to be in my body. I win.
From then on, I no longer had to mask my fear. It no longer existed. I knew from that point on, whatever happens, happens. We can only fight for what is ours. We can't rewind time, we can't erase chapters in our lives, we just have to live them.