At 32 years old, McKinnon Galloway has lived through more pain than most people encounter in a lifetime. Four brain surgeries. Dozens of MRIs. Chemotherapy that keeps returning like an unwanted visitor. The loss of her hearing. A genetic disorder with no cure.
And yet, when she smiles — warm, grounded, unmistakably real — you sense something rare: peace.
“I took all of that pain,” she says simply, “and I turned it into purpose.”
Galloway is a health advocate and public speaker raising awareness about neurofibromatosis type 2 (NF2), a rare genetic condition that causes tumors to grow on nerves throughout the body. Her journey with illness began when she was just 16 years old. By her early twenties, hospitals had become familiar terrain. By her thirties, survival had become a daily act of courage.
Still, what draws people to her — especially the thousands who follow her online — isn’t just her resilience. It’s her honesty. Her humor. Her refusal to pretend that suffering disappears just because you choose gratitude.
In a recent Instagram video, Galloway calmly walks viewers through years of relentless medical challenges: endless doctor visits, brain surgeries, chemotherapy, and the moment she woke up completely deaf after her third operation. She speaks about an allergic reaction to epilepsy medication that altered her personality for an entire year. She doesn’t sanitize the story. She doesn’t dramatize it either. She just tells the truth — and somehow, that truth feels like hope.
“A lot of people ask me how I’m so happy,” she says.
Her answer is disarmingly clear:
“It’s not about having a pain-free life. It’s about having a meaningful one.”
After years of fighting her own body, Galloway discovered something unexpected — that helping others gave her pain somewhere to go.
“Living with chronic illness can make your world feel very small,” she explains. “Everything becomes about what you’re losing, what’s changing, what you can’t control.” But when she began sharing what she’d learned and helping people navigate their own struggles, something shifted. Her suffering stopped feeling isolated. It became useful.
That realization came into sharp focus after her third brain surgery, when she lost her hearing overnight.
At a conference, Galloway relied on transcription technology to communicate — tools she had discovered out of necessity. A mother approached her, curious about the device. The woman explained that her deaf son had relied solely on texting for nearly ten years. On the spot, Galloway downloaded transcription apps onto their phones.
The next day, the mother returned in tears.
She told Galloway that she and her son had just had their first real conversation in a decade.
“That moment broke me open,” Galloway recalls. “I had been through hell and thought I had nothing left to give. And suddenly, because of everything I’d endured, I was able to give something that mattered.”
She hasn’t stopped since.
Galloway is careful not to romanticize illness. She speaks openly about hopelessness, anxiety, and fear — especially before MRIs, which so often bring bad news. She has had more than 50 of them. She has multiple brain tumors and six spinal tumors. The uncertainty is heavy.
But she believes in balance.
“Feel what you feel,” she says. “Cry. Let it out. Then wipe your tears, stand back up, and move forward.” Strength, she insists, is not pretending you’re okay. Strength is choosing to keep going anyway.
One of her most defining memories happened during a hospital stay in the middle of COVID. She was critically ill, completely deaf, her eye turned inward from brain swelling. And yet, with her mom, a close friend, and a few ICU towels, she created a makeshift spa day in her hospital bed — face masks, laughter, presence.
“That’s when I realized,” she says, “the day is what you make it.”
Today, Galloway wakes up with a single thought: It’s a beautiful day to be alive.
Experts say what she’s discovered intuitively is backed by science. Studies show that purpose, optimism, gratitude, and generosity are deeply linked to happiness, resilience, and even longevity. Helping others doesn’t just heal communities — it heals the giver.
Galloway is living proof.
She doesn’t claim to have conquered suffering. She has simply learned how to carry it — and transform it into something that lifts others along the way.
“I wish people could have this perspective without having to go through what I went through,” she says. “Because once you understand how fragile life is, you stop wasting it.”
Her life may be shaped by illness.
But her happiness is shaped by meaning.
And that, she reminds us, is something we can all choose.
