Patient & Researcher Blog
Here I aim to capture what I am learning as a newbie researcher from a patient perspective.
Living with a slow growing brain cancer
It is taboo for researchers to talk about their work before it is published.
I think that’s a bummer.
My favorite part about research is learning new things in real time. Here I share my observations as a learner and my n of 1 (personal) findings as a patient.
Note: I started blogging about brain cancer in 2008, at age 29.
I had no background or knowledge about healthcare when I began. Please excuse typos and other misconceptions. What you read here is me in real time, like a time capsule.
There are more than 500 posts here. Use this search to look for something specific. Good luck!
Snippets from: The Brain that Changes Itself
If you haven't seen me lately, don't even talk to me about the human brain because it's my favorite topic and I won't stop talking for hours. I could talk about neuroscience about as long as I can complain about the improper use of typefaces.
Pre-brain surgery playlist
Here’s the music I listed to on repeat before my last brain surgery.
In the bedroom hallway
The orange band and blue Post-It notes remind me to do physical therapy.
This chemo pill thing doesn't seem so bad
I don't want to jinx myself (and I'm only two nights into this) but this chemo pill thing doesn't seem so bad.
I stayed up late for no reason except to enjoy it it
I stayed up late for no reason except to enjoy it it. Brett is playing Resident Evil 2/3/whatever on the Wii. We both keep ourselves entertained each day.
Don't you hate it when biased patient populations mess up the sample?
If grade and age alone were considered for prognosis, these factors would lead clinicians to prescribe unnecessary treatments due to trends reinforced by regional sampling biases.
Piano as occupational therapy
Piano was my first instrument and I can still read music, but I haven't played in nearly a decade. If I practice everyday, I bet the fine motor skills in my right hand will improve—hopefully to the point where I can play without looking at my hands.