The most dangerous person to ask about tolerability is often the person who doesn’t have to take the drug. Not because they’re unintelligent or without access to data. Not because they’re uncaring, but because they get to go home afterward without the ramifications of the treatment. The patient does not. The patient takes all the side effects of the drug home. The patient takes it to the dinner table. To the bathroom. To bed. To their child’s soccer game. To the grocery store. To the middle of the night when the rest of the house is sleeping and their body is negotiating with a treatment that is both helping and hurting them.

A rare inherited mutation in the Epidermal Growth Factor Receptor (EGFR) gene is associated with a 25-fold increased risk of lung cancer, according to a study by investigators at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and 23andMe Research Institute. The findings included de-identified, aggregated genetic data from more than 3.3 million 23andMe research-consented participants.

After diagnosing and treating lung cancer for decades, he now faces advanced non-smoking lung cancer, deepening his empathy for patients.

The first annual Ardent Roof Systems Free Roof Giveaway in CALGARY happens this summer!

The first annual Ardent Roof Systems Free Roof Giveaway in CALGARY happens this summer!

Shop for shirts, magnets, keychains by Rice Creek Bird Observatory

From New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen comes a harrowing and emotional thriller where ghosts of the Cold War return with a vengeance—and cannot be outrun.

There are people who change your life in dramatic ways and then there are the people who change your life quietly: the ones who never make headlines. The ones who don’t arrive with trumpets or grand speeches. The ones who simply show up, over and over again, until their presence becomes woven into the fabric of your story. Lately, I’ve been thinking about those people. Maybe it’s because cancer has a way of stripping life down to its essentials. Maybe it’s because when you’ve lived long enough in the land of uncertainty, you begin to see more clearly what actually matters.

There is a particular kind of comfort in denial and I understand why people reach for it when living with a terminal/incurable disease like Stage IV Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC). When someone tells you that you have MBC, that the disease has escaped the boundaries where medicine can be confident, that it has settled into your bones or liver or lungs or brain and intends to stay, denial can feel less like a flaw and more like a life raft. The truth is heavy; the truth is frightening. The truth wakes you at three in the morning and sits beside your bed like an unwelcome guest, so I understand the temptation to look away.

A systematic review of 49 imaging studies highlights how COVID-19 affects the human brain. Researchers found widespread structural and functional changes in areas responsible for memory, emotion, and ...

and his determination to suppress dissenters

Disclaimer: These reflections are not about any one specific person or situation. They are simply personal musings on visibility, advocacy, volunteerism, and the varied motivations that can emerge within the world of cancer and illness. There is a peculiar gravity around terminal illness that draws people toward visibility. Cancer, especially, rearranges not only the body but the social landscape around a person. Some become louder. Some become quieter. Some feel compelled to document every infusion, every ribbon, every trembling revelation to keep everyone informed. Others disappear into the folds of ordinary life, carrying impossible burdens silently while still answering texts from frightened strangers at midnight.