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A new house in the suburbs. A thriving business. A growing family. It was a charmed life for college sweethearts Robin and Dave Dubin until Dave was diagnosed with colon cancer at age 29.

Cancer is part of Dave’s family history. Will it be part of his family’s future?

The Dubins talk candidly about the decision to explore genetic testing for their sons and the anxiety that comes with having answers.

A new house in the suburbs, a thriving business, a growing family, it was a charmed life for college sweethearts Robin and Dave Dubin until Dave was diagnosed with colon cancer at age 29. Cancer is part of Dave's family history. Will it be part of his family's future? The Dubin's talk candidly about the decision to explore genetic testing for their sons and the anxiety that comes with having answers.

So you tell me a little bit about what it was like when we met.

So we met as college sweethearts at Tulane University. We were 18.

19, I think.

19? All right.

Just somewhere around there.

We'll go with 19. We were studying and I saw you. And I'm, like, that's the girl I'm going to marry. And I, of course, didn't tell you this until what, how many years later?

Until we were about to get married, you told that story to the cantor that was going to marry us. And that's how I found out about it, seven years later.

Sorry. So we got married. And we were running a business together.

Mhm.

We did the traditional move to the suburbs, buy a house, have a first child. And we sold the business. It was a lot of stress.

So when I started having symptoms at age 29 of colon cancer, it was passed off as stress related because of everything that was happening, even though the whole family history of colon cancer was very well-documented.

Your father and your grandfather were a bit older than you were when they had cancer. So we didn't think too much of it. You had to have surgery--

I did.

--and chemo.

So what was it like watching me go from being a strapping 29-year-old still playing soccer to becoming a patient who can't lift his own son?

You do what needs to get done to get through it.

So you became the proverbial mama grizzly?

Mhm. You were a survivor. You did well. You recovered.

And you know, life kind of got back to normal at that point. And we, over the next seven years, had two more kids. And as a cancer survivor, you actually were five years cancer free.

It was roughly 10 years after the first surgery. I go to donate blood. And essentially, my iron count had dropped like a stone.

And they found a bleeding tumor. And surgery was able to remove it. That's when you went for genetic testing and found out that you carry a mutation and they caused increased risks of different types of cancers.

So what did mama grizzly do this time?

Well, first, you started seeing a high risk oncologist.

I did.

So you now get not just annual colonoscopies, but all kinds of other screenings and scans for other body parts. And a year later, they found a tumor in your kidney.

I was certified defective by that point.

So we really were very fortunate that you were being screened. Because it was a very small tumor.

The surgeon was able to go in the same way they went in previously. And a couple hours later, I come out smelling like roses.

Right. Then our kids get to the ages where they need to have genetic testing. I think that was tougher on me than everything we had to deal with with you.

So our oldest son Zach is now 22. When he was 18, he got genetic testing. And he tested positive. So he had to go for his first colonoscopy at 18. And he's been seeing an oncologist and getting MRIs ever since. He has decided to apply to graduate school to get a master's in genetic counseling.

So he took this setback, if you will, and just turned it into something positive.

We have three boys. And Corey, our middle son, who is 18 now, just had his genetic testing done a couple months ago. And he was negative. It was kind of a surreal experience. I was pretty much preparing myself for another positive result. Zach, who is down at school, he called me the second he was done with class. And he was so relieved that his brother tested negative.

So what does the third one think? Well, he knows, obviously, a lot for a 14-year-old, considering he's been with us for this whole thing. So he's grown up with it. And he sometimes will ask us questions out of the blue about this and what it might mean for him. It's a little sobering to have your 14-year-old ask about cancer.

I think in our case, we would rather he actually did ask the question than not.

Yeah. And we're hearing that there may be vaccines. And it hopefully will change our children's future to the point where they don't have those risks anymore, despite having the genetic mutation.

If there was a crystal ball that said this was going to be the journey 30 years ago, I still wouldn't trade.

Me neither. There's no one else I'd rather go through this life journey with than you.

Families like the Dubins put their hope in the future of science. Conquer Cancer donors have funded nearly 1500 research projects to provide new treatments to patients with every type of cancer. Make a gift at Conquer.org/donate to support the next generation of conquerors.

Dr. Robert Ramirez, a member of the American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO), and NET nurse navigator Pam Ryan discuss the importance of the multidisciplinary team, building trust, and creating positive treatment experiences for patients with gastrointestinal and pancreatic NETs (GEP-NETs).

(c) 2020 Ipsen Biopharmaceuticals, Inc. January 2020 SMD-US-003644

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You can contact the MDedge Daily Medical News by emailing us at podcasts@mdedge.com or following us on Twitter at @MDedgeTweets.

Diretamente do congresso anual da American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO), em Chicago, o Dr. Luís Fernando Correia entrevista o Dr. Carlos José Andrade sobre medicina de precisão e qual o impacto dela na rotina da prática clínica, especialmente na oncologia.

On a Saturday morning, a wife wakes to telling signs that her husband is not well.

Before Sunday comes, a devastating diagnosis:  A young father has a one percent chance of surviving.

On a Saturday morning, a wife wakes to telling signs that her husband is not well. Before Sunday comes, a devastating diagnosis-- a young father has a 1% chance of surviving. The search is on for a life-extending treatment. Erin, who lost her husband Mike, and Erin's sister, Dana, share the deeply emotional experiences and daunting medical logistics of loving someone through a terminal illness. We hear from Erin first.

Mike was brilliant. Had a PhD in genetics. He was 44 years old at the time he was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and given three to five months to live. He was a great dad and a great husband. He was quiet, but he was tough and stubborn as heck. And he was a big, strong, and somewhat intimidating guy.

Do you remember the day that you found out that Mike had pancreatic cancer?

That was a day that was a paradigm shift for me and I guess really for us as an entire family. We woke up in the morning. It was a Saturday. I woke up, and I looked over at him. And he was yellow. He was jaundiced. I was startled, and I woke him up. And he looked at me. And he said, what are you doing? And I said, you're jaundiced. Your eyes are yellow. Your skin is yellow.

So literally like overnight.

Overnight. So they did a CT scan, and then they asked us to come in. And they sat us down across the desk from a doctor and said, we hate to tell you this, but you have a mass in your pancreas and lesions on your liver and in your lungs.

Wow.

And Mike right away said, what's it look like for me? Are things any better now for pancreatic cancer than they were years ago? And the doctor said no. He said, you have like a 1/2 to 1% chance of recovering from this disease at stage 4. So basically that was it.

So how did Mike's cancer change your life?

Before Mike was diagnosed, I was a very, very happy stay-at-home mom and wife. And I loved my life. And I got suddenly thrown into the caregiver position for him and for my children. I thought that would be when we got old. I had no idea it would be at 36. So it was very difficult. How did you feel when I told you about Mike's diagnosis?

We were in California. And I was with Dave and Mom and Dad. And you said, Mike has pancreatic cancer. So it was a very surreal moment for me because my first thought was that can't be right. Like someone's made a mistake. I didn't know a lot about cancer. At that point in our lives, we really hadn't been exposed. Nobody in our family had cancer until that point in time. That moment changed my life. I knew that I had to help my family. You're my little sister.

Then you asked me to help, to see what was out there in relation to clinical trials because Mike was not inclined to just do standard of care. That gave me a lot of purpose and a lot of focus because that allowed me to do something. So I spent the next five weeks combing through the internet about clinical trials and whatever opportunities that might be out there for Mike.

I'd read two sentences of a protocol and have to look 16 words up because I had no clue what I was reading. I learned a lot through that process. And I did find three or four trials that Mike could qualify for. And fortunately, he was accepted into a trial.

All the pieces kind of fit into place for us. And we felt very fortunate at the time. And then with Mike's response to the trial, he really regained his quality of life.

He did. He felt great on the clinical trial, didn't make him sick. So we had some really great time. He lived 19 months, which may not sound like a lot or enough. But it made the difference between Caitlin, who was 4, remembering him or not. We were able to go on some vacations. He was able to coach her T-ball team and take the boys camping, which was a really big deal to them. So we had that time. And it was really good time for us.

So Erin, as Mike's caregiver, what advice would you give to other people?

The biggest thing throughout the journey that I learned that I didn't know prior was that hope really is everything. And without it we had nothing. So being able to continue to have hope helped us to continue to fight. That knowledge is power. And patients should have that knowledge to be able to determine their own path. And as a caregiver, I learned that I had to be accepting of Mike's decisions for himself for his own path.

What surprised you about that journey? Mike got cards from not just throughout the country but from people he knew throughout the world. Every night, we'd go to the mailbox together. And we'd get his cards. And he would come back. And he would sit in his rocking chair and read those cards and just cry every night. And that was surprising to me because Mike-- he was a tough guy. He didn't cry. But that became his practice. And it was cathartic for him.

One of the things that stands out that surprised me was that his passing was very peaceful. It was very difficult getting to that point. But I can remember laying my head on his chest and listening to his last heartbeat.

And I whispered to him at that time. I said, it's OK. We're going to be fine. And his heart stopped beating. I think about that moment so often. And it sounds strange. But somewhere in my heart, that has become a beautiful moment for me.

A clinical trial gave Erin's family the gift of time. Turning heartache into hope, Erin and Dana made a gift to support the Conquer Cancer Foundation. Conquer Cancer donors have supported nearly 1,500 research projects to better treat patients like Mike. Join Erin and Dana. Make a gift to Conquer Cancer, and give the gift of time visit. Visit conquer.org/donate.

When given a 50-50 chance of surviving blood cancer as a teen in the 1970s, Sophia believed she was going to survive. And Sophia was right.

Fast forward to an eerie dream that nudges the then-30 something mom to seek a second opinion after a doctor dismisses her worries when she finds a lump in her breast. She was right again.

Sophia candidly shares her experiences with her daughter, Kalli, who listens to the details of her mother’s diagnoses for the first time.

Do you believe in a woman's intuition? When given a 50/50 chance of surviving blood cancer as a teen in the 1970s, Sophia believed she was going to survive, even when many around her began preparing for the worst. And Sophia was right.

Fast-forward to an eerie dream that nudges the then-30-something mom to seek a second opinion after a doctor dismisses her worries when she finds a lump in her breast. She was right again. Sophia candidly shares her experiences with her daughter Kalli, who listens to the details of her mother's diagnosis for the first time. Kalli speaks first.

We're here to talk about your experience with cancer. I'm really interested in what life was like before your diagnosis, and what made you go to the doctor and see what was going on.

That's a really interesting question. I was in the 10th grade, and I was playing on the softball team. I played center field, and I noticed I was starting to get a little bit more winded than usual. And I started running this low-grade fever and getting chills and night sweats.

Your grandfather, my dad, brought me into the doctor's office, and they did a chest X-ray. And it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry, because I had a huge grapefruit-sized tumor pressing against my heart. They admitted me into the hospital right away. My white blood count apparently was through the roof. And then they confirmed that it was Hodgkin's lymphoma. And I remember my parents celebrating that, because with Hodgkin's lymphoma, I had a 50/50 chance of surviving.

I don't think I've ever heard that part of the story before.

We would go to New York twice a month. I'd get my chemo, and then I'd be sick all weekend. And I basically puked my brains out all weekend. But youth is wonderful. On Monday, I'd be fine and went back to school.

How long were you in chemo? And how long until your doctor finally told you you were cancer free?

I was in a clinical trial at Sloan Kettering. It went on for two years. They didn't paint a rosy picture at first. But they were so impressed by that tumor's reaction, that they upped my odds of survival. It went from 50% to 80% or 90%. So that gave me a lot of confidence.

My last treatment was a week before I graduated high school.

Aw.

So as you can imagine, it was a huge celebration. Oh, my goodness. We went down to the river, and we just partied--

--and then not just once.

Not just once-- I love it.

So I came out of this with the feeling that I'm going to be one of those people who's going to survive this. Did I think about dying? Heck, yeah. Frankly, I think I thought more about losing my hair, but I was a teenager. [CHUCKLES] I don't know.

Were you ever concerned that you would get cancer again?

The short answer is no. Sloan Kettering released me from their care after five years. At the time, because I was one of the first cohort to be cured, they didn't really know about long-term effects. It was only later that they'd started discovering the radiation we got can lead to a second cancer.

So you met my dad. You dated. How did he react to finding out that you were a cancer survivor?

He had one of the best reactions, and that's probably when I knew I was going to marry him.

He was like, oh, OK, so you had cancer. Well, let me tell you about me. It never was an issue. And I think, if anything, for him it was, wow, she's a really strong person. So for him, I think it ended up being a point of attraction.

That's wonderful. So you guys got married, you had us, and my sister and I, Kathleen, were about a year and a half when you got your breast cancer diagnosis. What led to you going to the doctor?

I remember feeling a lump in my breast. Being proactive, I said, let me call my gynecologist. Her response was, oh, you're not old enough. Just let me know if it's still there in six months. And I remember going to sleep that night, and I had a dream, Kal.

And in the dream, I was in this room, and I was looking down at you and your sister and your father. I could see you all, I could hear you all, but you couldn't see me. And it was the worst feeling in my life. And I realized that I had died.

And I woke up from that dream, and I said to your dad, I'm going to the doctor. So I did. And the radiologist puts the film up, and he says, this does not look good. You've got to get this taken care of. And long story short, they took the tumor out. And I'll never forget the oncologist. I was sitting down with him, and I said, I don't know if I can go through two years of chemo. Do I really need the chemo? And he looked at me. He says, two years? Sophia, we only have to do about six months. And then I burst out laughing. I was so happy.

How different was it compared to your first time going through cancer treatment?

So now I'm a 30-something. I have these twin daughters, a year and a half old, and my husband, and a full-time job. I'm like, holy cow, can I do this again? Of course I have to. I have to be there for my family.

The whole landscape had changed in terms of support. People were bringing us meals. And I remember walking into Duke and seeing this sign, "Duke Cancer Patient Support Program," and saying, what is that? And then figuring out those were social workers and counselors that were there to help cancer patients. I mean, we didn't have any of that back in the '70s.

How did your second cancer really morph your life?

I started volunteering through the Cancer Patient Support Program. And the director said to me, have you ever thought of going into social work? So I applied and was accepted at UNC Chapel Hill. I assumed I was going to leave it at that, and then become a social work clinician.

And something happened. I fell in love with research and decided, you know what, I'm going to do this for a living, because I can help people. And I had that one degree of separation, so I wasn't in the cancer world every day. And for me, that was a good fit. I really enjoy my research.

How do you think your life would have been if you hadn't been diagnosed with cancer?

What I describe sounds like I had a lot of challenges, and it was really tough to go through. But I wouldn't trade where I am right now with anybody else for anything. I'm completely happy. And whether it was a cancer diagnosis or an accident or whatever put me here, I'm just really grateful. I recognize the gift that cancer brought me and made me who I am.

As a daughter of a two-time cancer survivor, it's certainly been so inspiring. That's the major reason why I myself am in the research field now. I'm in awe of you and just so proud. Thank you for sharing this with me.

Thank you for that. You're beautiful.

You're beautiful too.

Conquer Cancer donors have supported nearly 1,500 research projects like the clinical trial that saved Sophia's life. Now in her 50s, Sophia dedicates her career to helping patients. You can help patients by donating to Conquer Cancer. Make a gift today at conquer.org/donate.

Stuart Spigel wanted to be a forest ranger. His mother…well, she had other plans.

Dr. Stuart Spigel would become Nashville’s first oncologist. Though not the rustic wilderness he’d dreamed of exploring, cancer in the 1970’s was an uncharted field.

In a conversation with son and fellow oncologist, David Spigel, you’ll hear candid insight into the ever-changing landscape of cancer care and how becoming a patient himself forever changed Stuart’s relationship with those he treated.

Stuart Spigel wanted to be a forest ranger. His mother, well, she had other plans. Dr. Stuart Spigel would become Nashville's first oncologist. Though not the rustic wilderness he'd dreamed of exploring, cancer in the 1970s was an uncharted field.

In a conversation with son and fellow oncologist David Spigel, you'll hear candid insight into the ever-changing landscape of cancer care, and how becoming a patient himself forever changed Stuart's relationship with those he treated.

In my senior year of high school, my mother had me tested in New York City, and I did three days of testing.

To see what you would be in life?

Yes. I wanted to be a forest ranger, the only Jewish forest ranger.

But at the end of the three days, there was a counseling session. And the counselor said, ma'am, your son is cut out to be a social worker or a forest ranger. And my mother grabbed my wrist and said, my son is going to be a doctor. And that's why I became a doctor, to be honest with you.

I knew I wanted internal medicine. And with each of the rotations, I was disappointed. Then I rotated in oncology. Wow, oncology. I had two exciting teachers, and they were doing exciting things. It had just been shown that Hodgkin's disease could be treated successfully and perhaps cured with chemotherapy. And that was really exciting for me.

It's interesting, because I'm an oncologist, and to me, right now feels like the most exciting time in the history of medicine, not just oncology, with the things we can do, the discoveries being made, the pace of development. And I look back to even just 20 years ago, and I think, boy, there really wasn't a lot to do there. And so you're talking about 1969, 1970, you felt like then you were doing a lot of great things or things were happening, and it was exciting as well.

In 1969, we began to treat women with widespread breast cancer, and we sought to publish our experience with 25 such patients. And we submitted that article to the Journal of the American Medical Association, the New England Journal of Medicine, the Annals of Internal Medicine.

Did you author that? You were the first author?

Yes, I was the lead author, and it was rejected by everyone. The editorial comment from the Journal of the American Medical Association was, our readership is not interested in cancer. We don't believe cancer is a treatable disease. Now you pick up any medical journal, and at least 50% is devoted to oncology. It's incredible.

So I want to fast-forward to Nashville.

Believe it or not, there was no medical oncology at the time in Nashville, and I became the first trained medical oncologist in Nashville, Tennessee.

And I remember as a child, your day didn't stop. You were the only one going to the hospital. I just don't know how you did it.

I don't either. I wasn't getting home until late. And so finally, in 1979, I started my own practice.

So that same practice today is now 89 physicians, one of the largest in the United States. That was the group you started.

Yes.

That feel weird?

Yes.

Did you enjoy it? Or the joy--

No.

Oh, you didn't.

It was joyless. I mean, I worked from dawn to late at night, and my marriage dissolved. And in large part, it was because of my work.

When did things change for you, where being a doctor became gratifying?

When I hired help, and we began to have the time to enjoy life a little bit.

It is gratifying for me now, walking in the same hall as you walked in, doing the same things. And it's rare for me to encounter a patient who doesn't confuse me with you because "You took care of my grandmother," or "You took care of my mailman's mother." And I have to tell them, no, that's the other Dr. Spigel.

Noah, my son, who's 13 right now, I brought him to the hospital, and I had to run back to see a patient. And I left him at the nurses' station on a stool. Then I came back, and the clerk there had been there when you were working. And she said, David, that was you on that stool with me all those years ago. And it's just kind of interesting because I do remember I used to round with you probably at Noah's age. Those were memorable moments for me.

I did want to shift a little bit because something happened in your life when I was an intern at Indiana. You were 53 at the time, and you had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I thought maybe I'd ask you about that time in your life and how it's been since.

I really have never paid much attention to my own health. But as I reached that age, my primary care doctor began to do the PSA, the Prostate-Specific Antigen. And it came back 7. The norms are 4 or less.

I had a needle biopsy of the prostate, and that came back as malignant. And within, oh, 10 days, I underwent surgery, and my PSA fell to undetectable levels, and all was well for a period of time. And then in 2003, my PSA became detectable and began to climb. And long story short, on the premise that a recurrence could take place in the prostate bed, I had radiation therapy.

That must have been a difficult time to pause and figure out, OK, I've got to worry about me for the moment.

I'd only had one day off because of sickness in my life, up to that point. So yes, that was a big deal.

How was it to walk into a room with a patient, even if they didn't have prostate cancer, but they had any cancer, did anything change for you?

It did. It made me more empathic. And sometimes it would actually help the patient, because I could say, I have cancer too. And I'm not asking for your sympathy. I just wanted you to know that I've walked where you've walked, and I've had the same anxieties you've had and still have. And that, I think, made me a better doctor.

So you are 75, and yet you just retired.

Yeah, I retired.

And so you're in Maine. You live on an island, off an island, where you, I think, have always wanted to be, in a great beautiful place that's outdoors without a lot of heat.

Yeah, I could be a forest ranger at last.

David follows in his dad's footsteps, blazing trails in oncology to discover new treatments. The Spigel family donates to Conquer Cancer to bring those new treatments to patients sooner. Join them and be part of the most exciting time in medicine by making a gift at conquer.org/donate.

“Just let me die.”

That’s what Linda said after receiving her leukemia diagnosis.

Not all patients believe they can conquer cancer. 

Linda and her daughter, Marissa, relive the first day in the hospital and the year of medical house arrest that was part of Linda’s life-saving treatment.

Just let me die. That's what Linda said after receiving her leukemia diagnosis. Not all patients believe they can conquer cancer. Linda and her daughter Marissa relived the first day in the hospital and the year of medical house arrest that was part of Linda's life saving treatment.

Let's start back at the beginning. How did you learn that you had leukemia?

Well, I had just retired from teaching. And I started feeling really very weak. I also wasn't eating anything, couldn't eat. I went to see my doctor the next day. She did bloodwork. Called later and said, you need to get to the hospital right away. So--

Off to the hospital.

--off to the hospital. And they did more tests. And I remember the doctor coming in and saying I had acute myeloid leukemia.

And I just pulled the sheet over my head. And I didn't want to hear anything else. I didn't want to hear any of it.

I don't know if I was in shock. I wasn't in disbelief. Because I all along thought I knew this was going to happen to me.

What got you past that initial moment of not wanting to hear anything? I just kind of went with it.

Well, there's no time to really think.

Right. I think I was thinking whatever happens happens. And I know several times I said I just want to die. I remember looking at you and mouthing, I just want to die. And you just shaking your head, saying no.

No.

No.

No. That was not an option. We knew you. And we know how you deal with medical problems or issues. And for us, it was we're going to fight this and we're going to do everything that we can.

So you can sit there and you can feel that way. But we're going to be the people who are pushing this forward and meeting with the doctors and asking the questions and just sort of making sure we're doing as much as we can. But it was important for you to have that moment, though. Because you know, we're not the ones who are being told that we have cancer, you are. And so I think we wanted to give you that space to sort of go through that acceptance.

Yeah, I guess at some point, obviously, I did accept it. But I got to the point with just tell me what I have to do and I'll do it.

And you fought the whole way. But you did what you needed to do. And really, you were the one who got yourself through the next round of chemo, the next round of radiation. And oh, then, there's this thing that's a bone marrow transplant.

Right. And you were my donor. So--

I won.

You won. Did you have any fears about that whole thing?

I didn't really. I guess there was a little apprehension about just sort of being put under. But I think my reaction was just sort of great, when do we do this, how soon do we do this, how fast do we do this. There was never a question that this was the right thing to do.

I mean, it just felt like I took a nap for a morning. I go under they take a liter of bone marrow. I just generate it. So there's no real impact to me. I was bruised and sore. And then they just process it, bring it to you.

I remember the doctor coming in with your bone marrow. And the chaplain was there and said a prayer over it.

And then it just goes in your body. It knows where to go. And then it just starts doing what it needs to do.

That was an emotional moment thinking that you were saving my life. So anyway, the day came when I could leave. And when I got home, it was still a year you can't go to a restaurant--

Medical house arrest.

Right. You can't go to the movies you can't go to any public places at all.

Can't really see people.

And so I said, oh, but I can garden. No. You can't even do that. So I was, OK, now what am I going to do? I got into my photography. I got into art. I did the sketchbook. I finally hung all those family portraits.

I was going to say, years of my life I've heard about portraits up the stairwell. And now you finally did it.

So it was weekly visits to the hospital. And then every two weeks, and now it's one month. I've done very well so far.

So you had said that you always felt that something would happen. You would get leukemia. You would get cancer. Do you still carry that, where you feel like something's going to happen? Or do you feel like you've been able to kind of get past that because you experienced it and you know what it is and you know you can beat it?

I don't feel as anxious as I did. Because I know that somehow you get through these things-- somehow. I didn't know that I was as strong as I was. So I don't think about the future. I can't go beyond, let's say, a month.

It's this is what I'm going to do today. I'm going to make sure I enjoy this day and take advantage of this day. I can't think about a year or two from now. I can't. People say living in the now. But it's true. It's not a bad way to live--

No.

--if you can do it.

Linda is now in remission. And her family donates to Conquer Cancer to ensure other patients face treatment with the same hope Linda was given. A gift to Conquer Cancer provides patients treatment options and the encouragement needed to embrace their conqueror within. Inspire a conqueror. Make a gift today by visiting Conquer.org/donate.

Fluoroquinolones are recommended for adults with cancer-related immunosuppression. Also today, statins are not preventative in the elderly unless they have diabetes, children born from ART have risk for arterial hypertension, and Supreme Court nominee Judge Kavanaugh testifies on Roe v. Wade.

Dr. Larry Einhorn, Distinguished Professor of Medicine at Indiana Univ and former ASCO president, discusses the trend of patients consulting Dr.Google - finding information of varied quality on the internet.

Dr. Larry Einhorn, Distinguished Professor of Medicine at Indiana Univ and former ASCO president, gives his view on whether a supercomputer such as Watson will be able to use complex algorithms to improve cancer care.

Dr. Larry Einhorn, Distinguished Professor of Medicine at Indiana Univ and former ASCO president, gives his view on more widespread availability of new mutation tests.

Dr. Larry Einhorn, Distinguished Professor of Medicine at Indiana Univ and former ASCO president, on what he sees as the most significant changes in cancer care in the last decade or two.

Dr. Larry Einhorn, Distinguished Professor of Medicine at Indiana Univ and former ASCO president, discusses leading challenges he sees for effective delivery of the best cancer care over the next decade.