ASCO 2025: Revenge of the Cancer Nerds

Twenty-three years ago, I walked into McCormick Place with a patient advocate badge, a scrappy nonprofit, a barely functional podcast, and no idea what I was doing.

This weekend, I'll walk back in still podcasting—only now with a book deal, TWO HUGE ANNOUNCEMENTS TO DROP, and the same attitude: zero tolerance for bullshit. Add in a frozen shoulder, new reading glasses, lower back pain, a prostate that got loud at 51, and the full-body resume of a 29-year cancer survivor.

Oh, McCormick Place—where badge ribbons multiply like Gremlins, and everyone pretends they read the abstracts. (j/k)

I've been haunting these halls longer than St. Elmo's Fire has been on VHS. At this point, my Apple Watch thinks I'm Forrest Gump every June.

But for all the foot blisters and soul fatigue, ASCO still matters—because it's the one place each year where the "patient people," the real ones, converge like a ragtag bunch of Ghostbusters trying to cross the streams and make something explode—preferably a bad idea.

It's never been about the free cappuccinos or the giant banners screaming "INNOVATION IMPACT."

It's about the sidebar chats that turn into movements. The war stories swapped over $20 Starbucks. The unshakable advocates who show up year after year, knowing full well the system is a dumpster fire but fighting like it's the final act of The Breakfast Club.

You'll find me there—fedora on, shirt so loud it needs its own decibel rating. I'll be meeting with friends and colleagues who've been aging gracefully with me since Bush 43 was in office—comrades at arms with whom I've fought uphill battles for decades.

If we're scheduled to hang out, I'm pumped to see you. If we're not, stop me anyway. You can't miss me unless you're actively avoiding joy.

And if you're a first-timer? Welcome to the Thunderdome.

You're gonna hate how much you love it. Grab a bourbon, ignore the PowerPoints, and talk to someone who's actually been the patient. It'll do more for your strategy than any bald, Jewish, angsty KOL ever will.