Why trials are not necessarily a (big) reason for hope — The freedom of cancer—How to recap the year and think about New Year resolutions — Oh, you are getting on a trial, people comment, as if I have won the lottery. That’s good, they point out, reacting to my less than enthusiastic acknowledgment of the fact. In their minds, unburdened by knowledge of the disease, a trial is a miracle in waiting.

What is hope chasing — Why the world does not need another cancer memoir — Why cancer jokes are funny — What to do with a four leaf clover — You know that moment, when you are on the very top of the rollercoaster, when your stomach falls down in an attempt to narrow the abyss between itself and the ground? That is what hope chasing is. Your rational being knows that it is pointless. …

“I will send you off, sooner or later,” my uncle would mutter under his breath with a snigger when the unpredictability of daily life brought him face to face with a pedantic bureaucrat, a mean shop keeper, a permissive parent of a whiny child. For the uninitiated, it sounded like…

If we are already giving up so much of our data and our privacy, should we not demand more from personalization? — Last week, I decided to look for a swimsuit online. Spring is coming, summer… I checked a few sites. Pretty quickly came to the realization that regardless of whether I wear my old suites or buy new ones, I would be disappointed with the outcome. (I have given up on…

Have you ever thought about doing something you are passionate about with the tools at hand? What a travesty! Take for example drawing. One cannot simply start sketching on a piece of newsprint. Or doodle with a BIC pen. To do this properly, without defiling your art with the mediocrity…

“Maybe we should call him Ferdinand instead of Fernando?” I tell my daughter. “He has the personality of an Austrian asshole.” “Have you seen an Austrian asshole leave voluntarily?” she responds without missing a beat. “Latin lovers on the other hand…” Fernando is my fibroid. He is impressive — large…

I am in a crib. I do not speak or cannot speak because I am little. There are people who come to look at me. When they approach I pull a blanket hanging from the rails to cover myself. If they don’t see my legs, they would not poke them…