BY Maximilien Schoen
When you’re in your twenties, you feel like you have all the time in the world. I certainly did. Traveling was my passion, my career, and my life. But in 2023, a sudden illness forced me to fight a battle I never saw coming. My name is Max, and this is my story—a journey through leukemia, survival, and finding my way back to life.
A Life of Freedom and Adventure
I have always been a traveler at heart. My love for exploring the world began in 2008 when I visited Australia with my mom to see my brother. That trip ignited something in me—the desire to see more, to go further, to never stop exploring.
After finishing my studies in Germany, I started working for an insurance company, but I quickly realized that the corporate world wasn’t for me. I wanted adventure, freedom, a life without routine. So in 2019, once my contract was fulfilled, I left everything behind to travel.
For the next two years, I lived my dream. With a friend, I explored 17 countries across Asia, Africa, and Central America. Every day was a new experience—different cultures, new landscapes, and unforgettable encounters.
When I returned home, I knew I couldn’t stay still for long. I built my own online business, sharing travel tips on YouTube and social media and continued travelling. My life was exactly as I had imagined it: unpredictable, exciting, and filled with possibility.
Then, in 2023, everything changed.
The first signs – the moment everything started to shift
After a year in Asia, I returned to Europe in the spring of 2023. I had just celebrated my 30th birthday in April. A few weeks later, I traveled to Sicily, planning to explore Italy before heading to Greece and Albania.
That’s when the first symptoms appeared. At first, they were subtle—loss of appetite, a sore throat, some pimples on my skin. Nothing alarming. I had been sick while traveling before; it was part of the journey.
My friends, who had joined me in Sicily for a short vacation, had to return to Germany, while I decided to stay a little longer, hoping to recover on my own. But this time, it was different. My fever worsened. My knees started aching so severely that walking became nearly impossible. Instead, my condition deteriorated rapidly. I could barely move. A local friend helped me get medication, but it was just a temporary relief. When I had to move to another apartment, I remember the cleaning lady helping me down the stairs—I couldn’t even carry my backpack. That’s when I knew something was seriously wrong.
The painful journey back to Germany
In Italy, I went to the emergency room, hoping for answers. Instead, I was given antibiotics and sent home. No blood tests, no real diagnosis. My fever kept rising. I was shaking, exhausted, out of energy.
Then, one evening, everything came crashing down. I fainted in the shower, hitting the ground hard and shattering the glass door. My wounds swelled up within seconds. My brother, who flew to Italy the day before had been checking in on me, knew it was time to act.
By then, I was too weak to think straight. We just booked the earliest flight to get me home. I barely remember getting through the airport—I was wearing a mask, trying to appear okay, worried that security wouldn’t let me board in my state. My parents picked us up from the airport in Germany, and we drove straight to the hospital.
Hearing the unthinkable: “You have leukemia”
The doctors ran a blood test. At first, it was just one doctor, then two, then seven. I could see it in their faces—something was seriously wrong.
“You have leukemia.”
The words didn’t make sense. Cancer? Me? That wasn’t possible. I had been living my dream, traveling the world. How could this be real?
When my parents, my brother, and I heard the diagnosis, we were completely devastated.
Then came the reality check: if I had waited just a few more days, my body might not have been able to fight anymore. They had to act fast.
I was immediately transferred to a university hospital, and within days, my condition worsened. The next thing I remember is waking up after 19 days in an induced coma, which they had to put me in because my immune system was severely weakened and my lungs were infected.
Coma, chemotherapy, and the fight for my life
Waking up from a coma is like coming back to life in a body you no longer recognize. I couldn’t move. My muscles had wasted away. My whole body was swollen from the medication. Even swallowing was a struggle.
I had to relearn everything—how to breath, to move, how to sit up, how to function. But there wasn’t much time to process what had happened. I had another battle ahead: chemotherapy.
I made a decision early on: I wouldn’t google the side effects. I didn’t want to live in fear, waiting for things to go wrong. If something happened, I would deal with it when it came. But I wouldn’t let anxiety consume me.
During my first session, I had to stay in the hospital to observe my body’s reactions to the chemo. Then, each cycle followed the same exhausting pattern—five days in the hospital for treatment, then weeks at home trying to regain my strength before the next round. The second and third weeks were the hardest. My immune system would crash, and I had to go to the doctors every single day for blood transfusions.
I lost my hair, my independence, my sense of control. But I never lost my will to fight.
Rebuilding after cancer: a new beginning
By the end of the year 2023, my chemotherapy was over. It had been a six-month battle, but I had made it through. The start of 2024 became a time of rebuilding—physically, mentally, emotionally.
I started traveling again, cautiously, staying within Europe. I focused on regaining my strength. My body healed faster than I expected, but more importantly, I realized my mind had stayed strong. Cancer had challenged me, but it hadn’t defeated me.
Above all, I wanted to use my experience to raise awareness. If there’s one message I can share, it’s this: no one ever thinks it will happen to them—until it does. That’s why I now advocate for blood and bone marrow donations. If you’ve ever considered donating, please do. You never know whose life you might save.
I also wanted to give back in another way—by sharing my story. Posting about my experience on YouTube and social media allowed me to reach people who might be going through something similar. Many showed their support, and knowing that my journey could encourage others made a difference.
Cancer took many things from me—my strength, my freedom, my sense of invincibility. But in return, it gave me something: perspective.
I no longer take anything for granted. Every day feels like a gift. Every step I take, every journey I embark on, every moment with my family—it all matters so much more now.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know this: cancer didn’t break me. It made me stronger. And from now on, I’m living life to the fullest, one step at a time.
