By Thiên An/Người Việt
Cassie Nguyen, 24, at Spotlight on Hope Film Camp. Photo by Thien An. Cassie Nguyen (left) and the campers listen to Director Ramon Hamilton’s instruction. Photo by Thien An.
LOS ANGELES (NV) ― Cassie Nguyen and I agreed to meet half an hour before the start of the film camp for cancer children. Nguyen became an American Cancer Society Legislative Ambassador after she suffered with a brain tumor for seven years. Spotlight on Hope Camp is one of her many volunteer activities.

The first thing I realized from Cassie, to be candid, was the delicacy of her appearance. I imagined that someone who had lobbied for legislation abetting cancer patients must have a demanding presence, even to the extent of seeming intimidating. Many other successful people that I’ve interviewed had this characteristic. She did not ― although she was living proof that it wasn’t a prerequisite.
I learned about Cassie Nguyen through a number of online articles and photographs relating to cancer survivors. When Think Ten Media company carried out Cassie’s idea of holding a free film camp consisting of classes for cancer children, I decided to contact her for an interview. At this event, reporters had a great chance to speak to many types of people.
After an hour of driving from my workplace to UCLA, I tried to look for a parking place in the reserved area for guests. Incidentally, my car and Cassie’s car drove in at the same time. I lowered the window and waved to her. She waved back. Her comely face was lightened up by her large smile and bright eyes.
Cassie got out of her car and headed toward me, limping.
I turned speechless all of sudden. It was apparent that the seven-year war with brain cancer had zapped her of some of her capabilities.
Cassie’s voice was soft and interrupted. It took her some time to say her greetings. Effects from the brain tumor led to her pronunciation difficulties. Her legs were weakened. Going up and down stairs is now a daily challenge.
I shook Cassie’s thin hand and forced myself not to show any emotion.
She lived with her mother and attended a college in Riverside, Calif. Her mother drove two hours to take her to UCLA to meet the film crew. Cassie was too enervated to be able to drive by herself. At the age of 16, when doctors began treating brain tumor, Cassie’s mother helped significantly. Her father passed away when she turned 5 years old.
“You come from Orange County, right? My grandma lives there. Mom often took me to Little Saigon to visit her.” She paused, trying to recall her Vietnamese. “’Con’ hai mươi bốn tuổi. ‘Con’ thích ăn xoài.” She was telling her grandmother her age, 24, and saying that she liked mango.
“I love Vietnamese. I love my family. They are always there for me. The strength of Mom and Grandma encouraged me to fight and to live. “
During cancer treatment, Cassie was determined to complete her high school degree at the same time as her friends did. Cassie is now a UC Riverside student, a public policy major, to “lobby for more health legislation conducive to cancer patients.” In addition to school, she volunteers for the American Cancer Society and the Children’s Brain Tumor Foundation. Some of the scholarships she received were from those two organizations; the rest were from other nonprofit agencies.
Spotlight on Hopewas Cassie’s idea. While she had an internship at a newspaper company, she met with and decided also to intern at Think Ten Media Film Company. Here she discussed her wish to organize free classes as an extracurricular activity for cancer children.

“This is a fun program that I once wished to have ― something that gets your mind out of the horrible disease. Now with Think Ten Media’s support, I have to make that dream a reality for the children,” Cassie shared.
Although she could not convince any organization to sponsor this new project, she received the support of many individuals. Cassie earned $ 700 by asking students on her campus for donations.
I sat there, watching the children transform into a “hero” and a “devil.” From the studio corner, Cassie quietly watched, took pictures, and applauded to the children after each scene.
During the break, for my own curiosity, I conversed with her about friends, love, and all the silly daily things. She is only one year younger than me.
“No one likes me.” She smiled. The smile was forced.
“Sometimes I do ask God ‘Why me?’ Why do I have this terrible disease?” At that moment, her eyes started to water. The forced smile she displayed before began to disappear.
“I was the smallest and the first person in the family to have cancer. Then my 12-year-old cousin was diagnosed with cancer too. I was panicking, how unfair it was for us. I used to be scared.”
Her cousin passed away a few years ago.
“But the cancer was a gift God gave me. It made me who I am today. I no longer worry for silly things. I know I can talk to everyone and help anyone in need. It made me a better person. “
Cassie called the brain tumor that tortured her mentally and physically for seven years “a miracle.” She was proud and happy. She wanted to show other kids how to live with the disease, and live well, “to do what they love.”
The film camp that day ended in the afternoon. She walked me out and gave me a pink plastic bracelet, the type that she sold to fundraise for cancer patients.
I said goodbye and drove back to work. I didn’t tell Cassie that she did give me more than just a plastic bracelet that day.
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