By Ben Stein-Lobovits
I got married. I got a dog. I bought a house.
And then, I got brain cancer.
Just one week before my 32nd birthday, I was diagnosed with a high-grade brainstem glioma. It’s an extremely rare diagnosis—and even more rare in adults. This type of tumor typically occurs in children, which made my case even more unusual. I like to say I didn’t turn 32—I turned thirty-tumor.
This diagnosis shook everything I thought I knew about my future.
Living with a brainstem glioma has changed almost every part of my daily life. My balance is off. My memory isn’t what it used to be. Simple things like writing or buttoning a shirt can feel surprisingly difficult. Cognition, dexterity, and even basic movements now take more focus and effort. Every little thing is just… harder.
And yet—I’m still here.
I’m now approaching seven years of survivorship. That’s a milestone I never thought I’d reach. I’m grateful every day to be able to say that. And even more grateful to say I’m now a husband, a homeowner—and a father to two beautiful daughters.
Looking at my girls reminds me why I fight so hard. They’re my daily source of hope.
Of course, not every day is easy. Some days are exhausting, both physically and emotionally. But I’ve come to see my brain tumor not just as an obstacle, but as a gift. A strange one, yes—but a powerful one. It’s given me a deeper appreciation for life. It’s given me the clarity to focus on what truly matters: love, connection, and service to others.
That’s why I try to give back as much as I can, especially within the brain tumor community. I talk to newly diagnosed patients and caregivers—people who are scared, confused, and facing the unknown. I remember exactly how that felt. If I can help even one person feel more grounded, more hopeful, or just a little less alone, then I know I’ve done something meaningful.
Being able to support others on this journey brings me real joy. It gives purpose to my pain.
Yes, my life looks very different than I imagined when I got married and adopted my dog. But I still feel lucky. Every day I spend with my wife, my kids, and the people I meet in this community is a gift. And as long as I’m able, I’ll keep paying that gift forward.
