The Skill That Saved Me: Learning How to Learn

When I was diagnosed with classical Hodgkin lymphoma in July, I did something that surprised my oncologist: I researched. Not in the panicked, late-night Google spiral way that leads you down WebMD rabbit holes. I researched the way I'd been taught to approach any complex problem - systematically, critically, and with genuine curiosity about finding the best solution.

My oncologist mentioned oral mucositis as a likely side effect of chemotherapy. Within days, I'd found the Chemo Mouthpiece, an FDA-cleared oral cryotherapy device that could prevent it. My doctor had never heard of it. I connected him with the company, got the device approved, and eliminated what could have been one of the most painful parts of treatment.

That's not a story about being smart or special. It's a story about education.

What Education Actually Teaches

I went to a local four year college and studied computer science. But here's what I actually learned: how to ask questions that matter, how to find answers when I don't have them, and how to keep learning long after the semester ends.

Those skills didn't just carry me through a career in web development. They're carrying me through cancer.

When people talk about the value of education, they often focus on job prospects or earning potential. Those things matter, but they miss the deeper point. Education - whether it happens in a college classroom, a vocational program, an apprenticeship, or through dedicated self-study - teaches you how your mind works and how to use it effectively.

It teaches you to approach problems you've never seen before and figure them out anyway.

The Jungle Keeps Changing

After I graduated, I worked as a contractor for multiple companies, building everything from e-commerce platforms to internal tools. The technical landscape evolved so quickly that what I learned six months ago might already be obsolete.

But my college education wasn't about memorizing which version of JavaScript was current. It was about developing the ability to acquire new knowledge independently, to troubleshoot when things break, and to adapt when the requirements change midstream.

When I took a career sabbatical to focus on raising my kids, I didn't stop learning. Every spare moment - during naps, after bedtime, in those quiet early morning hours - I kept up with the evolving world of software development. I took online courses, contributed to open-source projects, and made sure that when I was ready to return, I'd be even more valuable than when I left.

That's what education gave me: not just knowledge, but the framework for building more knowledge on my own.

When the Stakes Get Higher

Then came cancer, and suddenly I wasn't researching programming frameworks. I was researching survival.

The same approach applied. My professors had taught me to tackle code with curiosity and systematic problem-solving. I approached cancer the same way. I wasn't afraid to ask questions, even when the answers might be scary. I dove into medical literature while processing the emotional weight of diagnosis. I advocated for preventive measures and discovered devices that dramatically improved my treatment experience.

The liberal arts foundation I got at college - those philosophy and writing classes I thought were just degree requirements - turned out to matter more than I realized. They taught me how to articulate fear, find meaning in suffering, and communicate clearly under pressure. When I needed to explain complex medical decisions to my family or document my journey in ways that might help other patients, those skills became essential.

I launched a blog. I've shared my treatment experience in ways that have helped other patients advocate for themselves. I've maintained my technical skills even through chemo brain. None of that would be possible without the educational foundation that taught me how to think across disciplines and keep moving forward even when everything feels impossible.

It's Not About the Degree

Let me be clear: I'm not saying everyone needs to go to college. That's not the point at all.

The point is that education - in whatever form it takes - teaches you how to navigate complexity. A vocational program teaching you to troubleshoot HVAC systems is teaching you diagnostic thinking. An apprenticeship in carpentry is teaching you spatial reasoning and problem-solving. Online courses teaching you graphic design are teaching you how to learn software tools independently. A coding bootcamp is teaching you how to break down complex problems into manageable pieces.

The medium matters less than the outcome: you learn how your mind works, you develop strategies for acquiring new skills, and you build confidence in your ability to figure things out.

When life throws you something unexpected - and it will - those skills matter more than any specific fact you memorized.

The Real Value

When I walked onto my college's campus, I thought I was just there to study computer science. I didn't realize I was farming skills I'd carry for life. I didn't know that the ability to research effectively would one day help me find medical solutions my oncologist hadn't mentioned. I didn't know that learning how to communicate across disciplines would help me explain complex technical concepts to stakeholders and translate my cancer journey into words that help other patients.

Education wasn't preparing me for a job. It was preparing me for life - for pivoting when plans change, for seeking help when I need it, for staying curious even in the darkest times, and for believing that with the right tools, community, and persistence, I can tackle whatever comes next.

Software development is my career. People are my passion. But both require the same fundamental skill: the ability to learn, adapt, and keep moving forward even when you don't have all the answers.

For me, what came next was cancer. And the skills I learned - research, critical questioning, self-advocacy, clear communication under pressure - have been just as vital as any treatment protocol.

I'm still here. I'm still learning. And I'm grateful for every teacher, professor, mentor, and educational experience that taught me how.

💜 Kayla