Randy Pausch, 1960-2008
I’ve been out of the loop. I just found out that 47-year-old professor Randy Pausch died of pancreatic cancer on July 25.
I did not know him. I watched his last lecture and his 8-minute testimony before congress.
I did send him this email:
I thought about people like you after I was diagnosed with stage III ovarian cancer in 2001. I thought: Why is everything breast and prostate? What about ovarian? What about pancreatic???
The idea of lethal “orphan” cancers — where the survivors don’t live long enough to make a fuss — continues to haunt me. Like you, I went to Washington DC to lobby. The American Cancer Society happened to be holding a rally on Capitol Hill the same day. Survivors were marching and wearing banners that read: “We’re winning the fight!” I went up to an ACS employee and said, “Hi. I have ovarian cancer. We’re losing the fight.”
I thought about the dollars spent on HIV research, and I compared HIV death rates to the death rates of ovarian cancer. I thought about Act Up, and about squeaky wheels. Problem: How do we get nice, middle-aged women to “act up” like drag queens?
Re your car accident: Years ago I saw a movie titled The Waterdance, about a paraplegic. One night he gathers together his disabled friends to sneak out of the group home, borrow the van and visit a stripper club. In the process they nearly crash. Says one: “Wow! That was close. Good thing we’re already paralyzed!”
I thought of that line many times after my diagnosis. Cancer is one of the most lonely experiences in the world. It’s also one of the most freeing.
My entry Cancer Mythology entry ends:
Why do a majority of people continue to believe these myths despite ample evidence to the contrary? Because they wish it were so. They wish they could control a devastating, often fatal disease.
Here’s my wish: I wish these wishers were as outraged as I am about the criminally low levels of research funding for “orphan” cancers. Like pancreatic. Like ovarian. Like the type of breast cancer that hides from scans. I wish these wishers would gather their collective decency, good intentions and resources and break down the doors of Congress.
Do it for Randy Pausch. Do it for my friend Julie. Do it for yourself.
Randy Pausch’s youngest child is a toddler named Chloe. Tonight I would add: Do it for Chloe and her brothers.
