Chapter 8: Who will be my Time Traveler?

If I could time travel, I would journey back to November 1, 2012, sometime after 10pm, when I was laying in bed next to my husband (who was inevitably reading a yellow Math book. . . .boring).  I flipped to the first page of The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger and read “CLARE: It’s hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s okay. It’s hard to be the one who stays.”  This was the moment the novel grabbed my heart and pulled on my romantic nerves.

I am, by definition, a sucker for a good love story and thus, have the tendency to instantly fall in love with all gorgeous lead male characters.  However, The Time Traveler’s Wife might, perhaps, be the best love story I’ve encountered in a really long time (excluding my own, of course).  Perhaps it’s merely the idea of time travel, or the real-life characters (minus the time traveling bit) with real-life problems that drew me in so quickly.  Whatever it was, this novel mesmerized me and brought me pure joy intertwined with tangible moments of sadness. 

The lead male, Henry, is a librarian (could it get any better than that?).  In addition to his dashing good looks, Henry also possesses a peculiar ability to travel through time.  Clare, at a very young age, meets her future husband.  And by future, I mean, she meets the Henry from the future who in his present is married to future Clare (it’s not nearly confusing as it sounds, I promise).  And so the tale begins of two people destined to love each other.  Clare, the artist, is in a constant act of waiting: waiting for Henry to return, wondering if Henry will suddenly disappear, will they have a family, will Henry be there to participate?  The love between Henry and Clare is so strong, so deep that it surpasses all space-time continuums.

I truly loved this book and it’s one that I could reread and reread (if I didn’t have so many other books on my to-read list).  But there’s just one thing that bothered me (skip this paragraph if you want to be completely enthralled by the book; read on if you want to know one minor detail that irked me).  I am a scientist and I am acutely aware of the complexities of human biology, which contributes to the slow speed of scientific progress.  So when Henry visits a geneticist to explore the biology behind time travel, and the geneticist quickly isolated the ONE gene responsible and generated knockout mice that could also time travel, I was immediately skeptical.  Time traveling mice?  Okay, cool, but really?  Who funded such outrageous investigations?  Time travel makes for a great lover story, but in reality, I doubt very much it could actually happen.  And by mutation of a single gene? How many genes need to be altered for tumor progression? I can tell you that it’s many more than one.   Okay, I’ll move on.

I know Hollywood cashed in on this great story, but I am still reveling in the great writing and emotions evoked by Niffenegger’s novel that I haven’t watched the movie . . . yet.  I will, soon.  I want to share this story with my very own time traveler.  You know that same yellow math-book-reading nerd of guy I snagged?  On occasion, he pulls out some truly romantic lines. While I regaled him with how much I love this book, he replied with “I want to be your time traveler”.  Yes, dear, you can be my time traveler; I love you too.

Chapter 7: Books, Books, Books!

I wait with anticipation:  my breath abates, my heart races, my fingers twitch, my muscles tense and relax and prepare themselves to hold books upon books upon books.  I’m ready, ready for the annual Symphony Association Book Fair!!!

Every year, the local Symphony Association hosts a book fair as a fundraising event.  Normally, you and me might think, “No thanks, I’ll pass this one by.  Who needs old books with ripped pages and food stains?”  Well, friends, you’re in for a treat.  As you walk in, your head swivels from side to side as your eyes locate the “Trade Paperback” section.  Your legs carry you to the shelves that house rows and rows of practically brand new, current titles.  I really don’t know how they do it!  But they do, and it’s AMAZING! 

This year, I saw my future self.  She came with her husband and he was pulling books he knew she would like (ahh, so sweet, yes?).  Then she checked The List, a multi-sheet catalog of every book they owned.  If The List lacked the title in question, the book dropped into the large bag hung from her shoulder, to be added to The List for next year’s excursion, I presume.  I agree, it’s a bit on the dorky side, but you have to admit, it’s also highly effective.   

I use this opportunity to grow my library, the to-be-built-by-my-learning-to-be-handy-husband kind of library complete with built-in-bookshelves, a glowing fireplace warming my precious kitty, and a worn-leather armchair covered in my favourite wool blanket which sits beside the table holding my peppermint-infused coffee.  Yes, I like to dream. 

Here’s a glimpse at this year’s collection: 

Aren’t they great?! 

As always, I often go back to my stack of books and flip through the pages, smell them, stare at them. . . .Over and over again.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

Chapter 6: Let's Tinker Around for Awhile

If ever I could rebel against my last book with its less-than-engaging narrative, reading the current novel would be my act of dissidence.  Paul Harding’s story of a dying clockmaker, Tinkers, not only tugs at the reader’s heartstrings, but requires your focused attention as it weaves its way back and forth in time connecting the lives of grandfather, father, and son.

           

            The story begins with a dying clockmaker.  In his last hours, both waking and hallucinatory, we travel with George through some memories of his childhood, in particular his relationship with his father.  From here, we travel with George’s father, Howard to his childhood memories and the life of his father.  All three men tinker in their own way, either fixing clocks or selling door-to-door trinkets.  Howard says “I am a tinker.... Is it not true: A move of the head, a step to the left or right, and we change from wise, decent, loyal people to conceited fools?  Light changes, our eyes blink and see the world from the slightest difference of perspective and our place in it has changed infinitely” (pg 131).  Add an additional layer: each man also struggles, or tinkers, with a lack of paternal love.  As a reader, you longed for the father just to caress their son, to acknowledge their presence, to not leave without a word.  When the opportunities for these actions and emotions pass by, the sense of sadness is tangible.

           

            Harding shares his story and vision with the most exquisitely beautiful language.  Just the process of hearing the words flow together (in my head, of course.  I don’t read out loud, silly) brought a smile to my face.  Combine that with the deeply probing meaning behind those perfectly combined phrases, and I’m in literary heaven.  To prove my point, here’s a quote that immediately struck me: “be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world, even though you have done nothing to deserve it “ (pg 74).  Not only does this sentiment calm any twinge of depression that lingers in your mind, but it also scrapes the surface of meaningful religious undertones.  In the Christian view, men and women, although created in God’s image, ultimately fall short of this perfection.  However, the grace of God provides continual love for each and everyone of us . . . .even though we have done nothing to deserve such love!  Such subtleties permeate Harding’s novel and provide never-ending sentiments to soak our souls.    

            I would not classify Tinkers as an easy read.  Its brevity makes it attractive, but the complexity of language and astuteness of the content requires focus from the reader.  I think, even I, yes I, need to re-read this book to fully appreciate all that Harding offers. 

            And as Harding says “Everything is made to perish; the wonder of anything at all is that it has not already done so. . . . The wonder of anything is that it was made in the first place.” (pg 126).  Like this book, it has an end, but it was a gift to have enjoyed it for the time that I did and I hope you do too.

Chapter 5: The Storm is Over: The Story of Rubin Hurricane Carter

We’re moving, changing gears, chugging along . . . .On to my second book since starting this blog. 

A caveat to start: this isn’t the kind of book I would normally choose to read.  For one, I don’t like boxing.  And for two, my gut instinct about such a book tells me the story would be highly dramatized.   But we were hanging out with some friends and started talking about movies.  Someone suggested we watch Hurricane and in my typical agreeableness, I appeared intrigued.  It soon followed that this movie was actually based on a book, to which my face dropped and I responded, “I can’t watch the movie before I read the book!”  And then the book was presented to me.  What’s a girl to do except read the book?

My thoughts:  I was right.  Hirsch’s account of Rubin “Hurricane” Carter’s fight with the judicial system is drawn out and includes many forced attempts at emotion.  Needless to say, these emotional grabs at Carter’s “tortuous” journey from “ferocious boxer” to “alleged assassin” to a man brought to “redemption” did not work on me.  Don’t get me wrong, I am angered by the injustice of Rubin’s wrongful conviction.  And I, too, am astounded at the enormity of the years it took before this injustice could be corrected.  But perhaps a more honest account of Hurricane’s story would have elicited a deeper connection between myself and the characters of this real-life story.

Having never heard of the Hurricane or Rubin Carter’s 20-year imprisonment, after reading this book, I am disheartened by society’s blatant racism and selfish desires.  The small city district attorneys and police officers acted in their own best interests, telling lies and perpetuating the town’s already inherent biracial tendencies.  The town became so hostile for Carter that he could never return and never again regained a connection with his family.  So sad! It makes my heart hurt.

A glimmer of hope for mankind remains.  My heart smiles for the honesty and pure-heart of one person: John Artis, the young man charged and convicted alongside Rubin.  Artis never backed out of his innocent plea as much as the district attorneys wanted his confession to prove Rubin’s guilt.  Instead, Artis spent 10+ years in prison and was released on parole with his integrity intact.  In my eyes, he is a man worth calling a hero. 

And so, the storm is over . . . both for Rubin, the Hurricane, Carter and for me.  Rubin Carter is free and his story has reached thousands.   And I am finished this book and can move on to something a little more intellectually challenging.

Chapter 4: It’s not personal, it’s business

As I said in my last entry, I am thankful for cancer research.  No worries, this is not an entirely narcissistic comment.  Yes, the presence of the cancer research field provides me with a job.  But more importantly, I would not physically be present to write this blog if advanced cancer treatments hadn’t saved my life.  And yes, that is a little melodramatic . . . .I apologize.

            When I picked up this book in Chapters and decided I needed to read it, this urge was purely to fill a scientific craving.   However, within the first pages, The Emperor of all Maladies quickly became personal.  Throughout this book, Mukherjee follows one patient, a woman named Carla who was diagnosed as an adult with childhood leukemia, or acute lymphoblastic leukemia.  The story struck home.  I, as a child, was also diagnosed with leukemia – in my case, the more common leukemia in adults, acute myeloid leukemia.  Through Mukherjee’s words, I felt her bone marrow aspirations, I endured her chemo treatments, I understood the dramatic emotional and physical changes of her life, I believed that one patient impacts their physicians on an emotional level.  Carla’s story was my story. 

            Apart from my connection with Carla’s journey of survival, the story of leukemia and leukemia research reinforced how blessed I am to be alive and functioning as most other young woman.  If I were born 5-10yrs earlier, my doctors might not have shown such optimism in my prognosis and my parents may have prepared to bury their child.  The history of leukemia research, particularly in children, is truly astounding.  In the late 50’s and early 60’s, physicians including Sidney Farber discovered new chemotherapeutic agents (thanks to WWII) and in their desperate attempts to test their drug, experimented on children relegated to the “ghost floor" of the hospital where they waited to die.  Miraculously, these toxic agents improved the lives of some children.  With years of experimentation following, along with the discovery of various chemotherapeutic agents  (I’ll spare you the scientific details about how these work and their differences), an effective treatment for leukemia had not been worked out until the late 1970’s.  Diagnosed only 10 years later, I barely made that mark.    

            I never meant for this blog to become so personal.  But alas it has.  And like my occupation as a cancer research is not motivated by personal experiences, this blog follows the Godfather’s advice: “It’s not personal, it’s business.”

Chapter 3: Breast cancer treatment: Are we there yet?

Thanks for coming back to read more on Siddhartha Mukherjee’s Emperor of all Maladies!  On to the second theme. . . . curing breast cancer . . . . big topic, I know.

            Three cancer types dominated this book: leukemia, breast cancer, and lung cancer.  Whereas the discussion on leukemia was quite anecdotal, and lung cancer provided the foundational example of the importance of epidemiological studies, the story of breast cancer exemplifies how cancer research has progressed over the last 100 years or so. 

            My first reaction when the author shared the history of breast cancer treatment was disappointment and disillusion with the progression of the cancer research field.  I always thought that we, as cancer scientists, made great strides towards better treatment of this disease, particularly in the last 30 years.  But when Mukherjee described Halsted’s early treatment of breast cancer through radical mastectomy, followed by Grubbe’s radiation treatment in the early 1900’s, I began to wonder: how far have we really come??  Even 100 years later, our first line of defense against breast cancer remains surgery and radiation.  Albeit, Halsted’s surgery essentially mangled the women for the rest of her short life (learning that by removing the breast in addition to large amounts of the chest cavity reduced the risk of cancer recurrence) and the nuances of the cancer-promoting properties of radiation were largely unknown.  But really, have we really only improved upon those early treatments?  What new discoveries have we made in the last 100 YEARS!?

           

           In my semi-depressed state, I brought up this disappointment to my supervisor.  He, being a true academic, told me not to get too depressed and preceded to talk about the great advancements in our breast cancer field.  Of course, he’s right (when is your boss not right?) and Mukherjee doesn’t neglect these details either.  In addition to less toxic chemotherapies, physicians now possess several specific targeted therapies that can distinguish cancer cell from normal cell or benefit patients with aggressive and resistant disease.  Being immersed in the breast cancer field, I am, of course, aware of these new therapies. . . .I just needed reminding.

            We have made progress in curing breast cancer (among a multitude of other cancers), perhaps not as dramatic as I had imagined, but progress nonetheless.  And ultimately, I am thankful for these advancements.

“Why, it is asked, does the supply of new miracle drugs lag so far behind, while biology continues to move from strength to strength?” Lewis Thomas, The Lives of a Cell, 1978

Chapter 2: Follow Your Intuition

The transition from cancer biologist to blogger dictated that I start with a book that envelops both worlds.  Siddhartha Mukherjee’s Emperor of all Maladies fills this category perfectly.  Thank goodness for the subtitle “A Biography of Cancer”, since the actual title is somewhat obscure.  At least now we know what we’re getting into!  My parents gave me this book for Christmas last year.  In their defense, I asked for it . .  . and started reading it soon after (it’s a long one!).

            Written by a physician, this history of cancer research combines the scientific details that I spend my days poring over with some poignant personal ancedotes.  I would highly recommend this book for anyone wanting to know more about how the field of cancer research has progressed over the last 100 + years, including the science and the non-science inclined. Many parts of this book incited my inner academic as well as my emotional subconscious.  True to form and my rambling sort of meanderings, there are way more subjects to discuss than can fit into one blog entry.  So, for both our sakes, I’ll break these up over the next couple of entries . . . to keep you coming back for more and to give me time to finish my next book (TBA). . . . hehe.

            The first concept that became quickly apparent is how long ago we, as a human race, acknowledged the existence of cancer.  Considering that we only knew about such fundamental concepts as the structure of DNA in 1953, the fact that people back in 400 BC (that’s right folks, more than 2400 years ago) had a word for this large overgrowth seems astonishing.   Of course, although they knew of the existence of this karkinos, the chemists and biologists understood very little of the underlying basis of cancer or had any effective way to treat this disease. 

            Interestingly, a lot of the physicians’ recommendations for the origin and treatment of cancer were actually somewhat intuitive, albeit extremely misguided.  For example, Galen, around 100 AD, postulated the first theory on the origin of cancer, explaining that cancer was a result of “black bile” that accumulated in the body, ultimately resulting in a mass.  Because this “black bile” permeated throughout the entire body, it was extremely difficult to treat (they tried blood-letting . . you guessed it, without success).  Sounds preposterous, yes?  However, take a closer look and you might realize that perhaps they were on to something.  If you think about how large and advanced a tumor would have to be before it could be detected back in the day, it most surely would have metastasized, or traveled, to distant sites within the body.  Galen’s theory of cancer flowing through the body doesn’t sound so far-fetched after all.  Coincidentally, it also saved the patients from undergoing excruciating surgery before the invention of anesthesia (phew!).  

            Of course the scientific community long ago put Galen’s theory on a shelf and identified cancer as a disease of uncontrolled cell growth.   But, perhaps we can learn from this and the multitude of other examples where men and women followed their gut feelings and ended up making great discoveries.  The moral of this story: Follow your intuition!

"Intuition will tell the thinking mind where to look next.

Jonas Salk

Chapter 1: She Writes

Welcome!  Let me give you some background on my new endeavor . . . aka this blog.

My unconscious desire to blog has resided within the back of my mind for quite some time now . . . perhaps even a decade.  I’ve always enjoyed writing (and reading) but I always found excuses not to actually write anything for myself.  Perhaps it was lack of time, lack of motivation, lack of ideas, or maybe even fear that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be important enough to permeate the internet waves.  However, recently, I’ve been inspired in two ways.  Not only have several friends started their own blogs and encouraged me to do the same, but my mother-in-law also inspires me when she talks about the 52 books/year she reads (averaging a book a week – WOW).   So what do you get when you put reading and writing together?  A blog about books, of course!  So I’m taking the plunge, putting on my brave face, and sending out my words for the world to read.

I am, as the title of my blog suggests, an academic.  To be more precise, the scientific kind of academic, the kind that studies the intricate details of the cancer cell.  This kind of study is incredibly fascinating, particularly when one thinks about how such tiny cells can contain so much complexity.  If I were to describe my academic experience, I might compare it to a roller coaster, filled with highs, lows, and even the loop-de-loops where seemingly nothing is accomplished.   Now, with the PhD behind me and the postdoctoral experience before me, I’m allowing myself to re-indulge in those things that I loved before graduate school consumed me.

And that brings me back to this blog.  I love books, both as the object and in the stories within.  I’ll pretty much read anything. . . from non-fiction to fiction, classic to bestsellers.  While I generally thoroughly enjoy all that I read, I have a tendency to forget all those great details.   With this new endeavor, I can share my random meanderings on those books, record the history of my reading, and convey my love of books.   

Enjoy!