Some stories begin in the quiet of ordinary days, then veer suddenly into a storm that tests every ounce of human strength. For John Fowler, a sophomore at Macomb High School, that storm came on March 15th of last year. What began as an unexplainable illness quickly escalated into a fight for his very life.

Collapsing in his bathroom, John was rushed first to a local doctor, then transferred to OSF, where doctors discovered a massive brain abscess. The surgery to relieve it didn’t succeed the first time, so they had to try again. John doesn’t remember much of it—he was asleep for eleven days, missing everything from basketball regionals to ordinary moments with friends. What his family remembers is far starker: tubes in his chest and stomach, collapsed lungs, feeding complications, and nights wondering what the future might hold.

Yet here John stands today. He admits he doesn’t yet feel fully back to himself—he still struggles with sleep and the numbness in his right hand—but his recovery has been nothing short of extraordinary. After months of setbacks and procedures, his strength and spirit are visibly returning. Where once he could not move one side of his body, now he shakes hands instinctively, even if he cannot fully feel the touch.

The journey has not been his alone. His family has been by his side at every step, his parents an unwavering presence through long hospital nights. His brothers, both married with families of their own, have been steady supporters. And then there’s the wider Macomb community. John received 126 letters from classmates, many from students he barely knew. Strangers became encouragers. Peers who once passed quietly in the halls now stopped to say, “I’m thinking of you, John.” Those gestures, he says, meant the world.

School itself has been part of his healing. Returning for even a single day at the end of last year gave him a boost of energy and reminded him he wasn’t walking this path alone. Teachers like Brian Langworthy and Shelly Jennings stepped in to guide him through academics, making sure he wouldn’t fall behind. The gym and the football field—places that once symbolized competition—now represent something even greater: resilience, possibility, and the determination to reclaim life piece by piece.

John’s battle has been grueling, but what stands out is not just his endurance, but his attitude. “I knew I’d get out of there eventually, so I just kept going,” he says with quiet conviction. That statement reflects not only his recovery, but the very essence of who he is becoming: courageous, hopeful, unwilling to surrender to despair.

There’s an image often used for stories of renewal—the phoenix rising from ashes. For John, that image feels fitting. His body bears the marks of his ordeal, and his spirit carries memories no teenager should have to endure. Yet he chooses each day to look forward, not back. He finds joy in friendships, gratitude in community, and hope in the simple act of getting stronger, step by step.

His story is not finished, but already it is inspiring. John Fowler reminds Macomb that resilience is not about returning to what was, but about discovering what can still be. He is living proof that from heartbreak can come triumph, and from ashes, new strength.