The Diagnosis That Changed My Life
- positiveemissions
- Sep 11, 2025
- 2 min read
(and Inspired My Passion for Capturing Stories)
When I was in high school, I thought I just needed glasses. My vision was getting blurry, and I assumed it was a simple fix. But when I went to the eye doctor, we found out it was much more serious than that.
An emergency MRI at the University of Iowa revealed something I never expected—a tumor wrapped tightly around my left optic nerve. I was diagnosed with an optic nerve meningioma as a teenager. Suddenly, instead of homework and basketball games, my world was filled with doctors’ visits and around 30 daily radiation therapy treatments.
It was scary. It was overwhelming. But it also changed me.

What I remember most from that season isn’t just the treatments themselves—it’s the people. The radiation therapists and oncologists who cared for me weren’t just focused on the medical side of things. They treated me like a person. They explained what was happening, they gave me space to laugh and cry, and they carried me through a season I never thought I’d face at that age.
That experience was one of the biggest stepping stones in my life. It led me to study radiation therapy myself, where I eventually trained and worked alongside the very same doctors and therapists who once treated me.

But looking back now, I can see it led to something even bigger. It gave me the perspective and compassion that eventually inspired me to start Positive Emissions—where I now film life documentaries that preserve family stories for generations to come.

Here’s why: walking through a diagnosis at such a young age made me realize how fragile life is, and how important it is to hold onto the things that really matter. Our loved one’s voices, laughter, memories, and stories are what we treasure most—and they can slip away so quickly if we don’t take the time to capture them.
That’s what I do today through life documentaries. I help families record their loved one’s stories in their own words—full of personality, heart, and wisdom—so that years from now, their children and grandchildren can still sit down, press play, and feel connected.
I never would have chosen that diagnosis. But I can see now that it shaped my heart. It showed me the power of compassion, and it gave me an urgency to preserve what really matters.
That stepping stone led me here—to a life devoted to storytelling, to families, and to the priceless gift of remembering.
Thank you for being here.
-Britt
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