Attended a panel discussion on AI in cancer research and care. It’s not the kind of event that would normally catch my eye, but when I received an email from the U about it, I decided to go. My oncologist, a professor at the U who researches recurrent and advanced prostate cancer and uses AI in his work, was one of the featured speakers. Hearing him speak reassured me that his real intelligence and good humor won’t be replaced by a machine anytime soon.
Category: Health
I shall never play the violin
I’m grateful for modern science, and for a comforting bowl of tonkotsu udon a couple blocks from the hospital. My oncologist had just recommended a newly developed test that sequences the evolving DNA of the tumor and white blood cells to point toward new, targeted treatments, including immunotherapy. In old movies, it’s a little doctor in Vienna proclaiming, “You shall play the violin again.” In real life, it’s just science.
Riding the line
Cycled over to the U for a blood draw to get the labs done a couple of days ahead of a consult with my oncologist. Over a breakfast bagel in the Coffman Union, this graph came up in MyChart: the tumor marker is taking off again at a fair clip. I’ve been riding this rollercoaster for over 10 years now, and remain hopeful for a few more descents. I’m grateful Dwight rides with me.
A little under the freeway
Our colds persist. Going a little stir-crazy, I went for a walk, starting with this tunnel under the interstate near our home, dense with metaphors. Later, at a new bookshop, a barista with the snuffles brewed me a welcome Americano.
Kindle above the couch
Day 3 nursing a cold: at least it’s not COVID. It’s a good day to lie on the couch and read Clouds Above the Hill, set in Meiji-era Japan. There’s an entire museum in Matsuyama devoted to this book; I’ve actually visited it, though only because it was designed by architect Tadao Ando and features a lovely cafe. At the time, the significance of the story was lost on me, but today I can escape my cold and lose myself in the history.
The snowbird’s lament
It’s the classic snowbird’s lament: a cluster of medical appointments for us both immediately after returning to winter. Walked over to the U for labs, then headed to nearby Kinzō for some tonkotsu udon. Lab results trickled in as I slurped my comfort food.
A morning of fine print
Spent most of the morning reviewing our insurance. I confirmed our home’s “All Perils” policy doesn’t list covered events; instead, it only lists exclusions. For example, damage from a burst pipe is covered simply because it isn’t excluded. I also checked the fine print for our 2026 health plan to confirm it provides worldwide coverage and purchased an annual medical repatriation subscription, something we had allowed to lapse during the pandemic.
Drifting ice, drifting anxieties
The clouds seemed to mimic the icy Mississippi as I walked from a lab draw at the U (in the distance) to our co-op for Christmas ingredients. My phone buzzed occasionally, creating short-lived anxiety as more lab results became available.
After 10 years the can is still kickable
Following appointments at the U this morning, I checked their app periodically while cycling downriver. The news was great: my tumor marker is now “in the weeds,” confirming recent scans that show the tumors are no longer visible. I used the app to communicate with the care team, then returned to the U for a quarterly injection they’d missed. I’ll have just one more infusion in October, skipping the two final planned sessions. I’m grateful.
Planning on a bunch more birthdays
Cycled over to the U for treatment and scans, taking care not to collide with half-awake students. On the way back, the students streaming out of lectures seemed more animated.