My name is Carlos Luceno, and in June I had brain surgery for a tumor that was discovered that same month. It turned out to be a Stage II brain cancer. Now I’m living what I call the brain cancer life—waiting to see what happens day by day, MRI by MRI.
Sometimes it feels like I’m in a comic book, walking around with a question mark floating over my head. But what can you do? When those thoughts creep in, I laugh to myself and remind myself to take life one day at a time. That’s how I’ve always lived. Nothing fazes Carlos. I’ve gone into the jungles of South America—places most people would never go. I’ve never really been scared of anything. That’s just who I am.
The people around me say I’ve always been incredibly positive and upbeat. Even facing this diagnosis, I was almost fascinated. I wanted to understand what was happening, to gain insight, to talk it through, and then face it head-on. When I was told what needed to be done, my reaction was simple: “Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s get it done.”
From the moment I met my neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital, I knew I was dealing with someone extraordinary. Within five minutes, I could tell he was one of the best in the world at what he does. His knowledge of the brain was on a completely different level. But what stood out even more was that he cared about preserving my humanity—my personality, my quality of life—while approaching everything with deep scientific expertise and experience.
As he explained it, his objective was not simply to treat an X-ray or an MRI. It was to determine exactly what was wrong, relieve the pressure on my brain, remove as much of the tumor as was safely possible, and most importantly, return me to my life—my friends, my work, and all the meaningful things I wanted to get back to. He understood that, at this stage, quality of life mattered more than removing every possible trace of tumor at any cost.
Behind the scenes, I knew I was supported by extraordinary expertise and technology uniquely available at Hopkins—advanced navigation systems, intraoperative CT scans, intraoperative MRIs, and the benefit of years of research. In fact, through the department’s research efforts, the average survival of patients with malignant brain tumors has more than doubled. That gave me confidence not just in him, but in the entire team.
What I sensed from him was a genuine desire to help as many people as possible, approaching each case in the most logical and thoughtful way. Over time, I felt bonded to him. He saved my life. I don’t want to let him go.
Some of my friends talk about moving to New York, but I can’t imagine being far from Hopkins—not for years, not until I better understand what the future holds. I’ve always chased adventure and lived spontaneously, but this is different. Now there’s a psychological comfort in knowing I’m under his care, in being one of his patients. That sense of trust means everything.
In the end, choosing to have surgery there was deeply personal. It wasn’t about the institution or the name. It was about trusting another human being to help me through one of the most frightening experiences of my life. Once that trust is established, it becomes the foundation of a long-term relationship—one that doesn’t end when the surgery is over.
You have not enough Humanizer words left. Upgrade your Surfer plan.
Brain Tumor | Carlos Luceno's Story
Re: Brain Tumor | Carlos Luceno's Story
Carlos, your courage and clarity are powerful. Facing Stage II brain cancer with curiosity, strength, and trust in your Johns Hopkins Hospital team says so much about you. Holding onto quality of life and human connection is profound. One MRI at a time, you’re still you—resilient, adventurous, unshaken.
Re: Brain Tumor | Carlos Luceno's Story
Carlos, your courage and perspective are remarkable. Facing a Stage II brain tumor with curiosity instead of fear speaks to your resilient spirit. The trust you built with your team at Johns Hopkins Hospital clearly became a source of strength and stability. Knowing your surgeon valued your quality of life as much as the science makes all the difference. Taking it MRI by MRI isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom. Your positivity, paired with world-class care, creates a powerful foundation for whatever comes next.
Re: Brain Tumor | Carlos Luceno's Story
Carlos, your courage and grounded optimism are remarkable. Facing a Stage II brain cancer with curiosity instead of fear shows incredible strength. I’m so glad you found trust and expertise at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Holding onto humor, humanity, and quality of life while taking things MRI by MRI is powerful. Wishing you continued healing, clarity, and many more adventures ahead.
Re: Brain Tumor | Carlos Luceno's Story
Carlos, your strength and mindset are truly inspiring. Facing Stage II brain cancer with curiosity, courage, and even humor says so much about your character. The trust you’ve built with your neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital is powerful—having that confidence in your care team makes all the difference. Taking life MRI by MRI isn’t easy, but your positivity and adventurous spirit will continue to carry you forward. Wishing you healing, stability, and many more bold adventures ahead.
