Bottled ※ Brain

I recommend this unlined journal from Miniso—great paper for notes and doodles! It costs less than 300 pesos and is widely available. Jessica Zafra, a rabid note-taker, recommends this, too, having broken up with Moleskines because the company no longer distributes unlined notebooks in the country. I don't mind lined notebooks, as long as the paper is good. My kid brother, Sean, after sensing that a knob on my fountain pen was loose, decided to fix it on the spot. "Do you need to apply grease?" I asked. "No, it looks fine. It just needs a little tightening." He has always been good with his hands—he is, after all, a dentist—so I wasn't surprised that he did a better job at fixing my TWSBI Diamond 480 1.1 mm stubbed-fountain pen than me. "I read online that you shouldn't tighten the knob too much when you suction the ink," he said, warning me that there could be problems if I did so. I asked for some ink; I didn't bring a

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From left: Roger, Fred, Karen, myself, and Rich. They're my colleagues and friends from Oncology.

This has been a good year for reading. I wish I had read more books, but in between chemotherapy, academic reading (which I don't count as reading, in the way that I define it here, i.e., reading for pleasure), I could only squeeze in a few. Which is not to say, of course, that reading DeVita isn't pleasurable—it can be. Nevertheless, here are my most memorable reads for 2018. [ Before I launch into my list, I asked some friends and family to list their favorite reads, so I can convince non-readers to try out the habit. You can read Kuya John's top seven , Manong Ralph's top ten , and Ate Liw's many recommendations , including those that had lasting effects on her. In a sense, you are what you read. Surely, you don't want to be defined by the fact that you only read pep.ph—that, too, is mildly entertaining, but there are greater joys to be had.] 1. Institutes of the Christian Religion by Jean Calvin After a year, I finished reading volumes 1-3 of Joh

With the Espinos, Fernandos, and Gesilvas With Ate Milaine and Kuya Vance, among my dearest friends from church Just when I've gotten used to spending Christmas alone, having been away from home for medical training, I got invited to a family gathering for the second time. There was food—Ate Milaine is a marvelous cook whose recipes pose a challenge to my self-imposed diet! There was music—cello and piano played by a wonderful home-based live band that played the songs I knew. I couldn't leave the party without a song rendition of sorts. I sang "On the Street Where You Live," among other standards, which unleashed the old soul within me—and in all of us, when I think about it now, because everyone chimed in during the chorus. There was conversation about cancer, fountain pens, and Christianity, where I learned various things about these brothers and sisters in Christ, all of whom left me with the feeling of being in heavenly company. Thank you, Espinos, Fernando

Ate Liw, human rights lawyer and advocate, certified world peregrinator , once an English major and a dear friend, shares the most memorable reads she has had for 2018. Her global humanitarian work inspires me, but so does her travels, her book choices, and love for Jesus. She's one of the coolest, bravest, most elegant people I know, taking the road less traveled to champion the rights of the oppressed. She has has been a blessing to me and our family. Three books with lasting effects on me 1. An American Marriage, Tayari Jones My work allows me to witness the humanitarian consequences of overcrowded jails on persons deprived of liberty while on trial so I immediately connected with this novel. The way the story unfolds shows how each one of us can easily get caught up in a flawed justice system and how incarceration dehumanises. It is life changing to those incarcerated and alters their relationships with those outside, often in tragic ways. This novel should force us t

Héctor Abad, a Colombian novelist, answers this way when asked what literature can play in forming his country's historical memory: I believe that novels are condensing machines for stories. In a farm, the history of a country can be reflected, because history passes through its terrain and leaves traces. The war leaves traces. In Gabriel García Márquez, one massacre stands for all the massacres. In Evelio Rosero, armies without a name can be the guerrillas, the paramilitaries or the regular army. In Juan Gabriel Vásquez, German Jews are treated like Nazis during the second world war. In Santiago Gamboa, sex is the substitute for many other frustrations. In my novel Oblivion , a good man murdered becomes the symbol of many innocent victims killed unjustly. Novels help us understand and understand each other. I love Latin American novelists—they write a lot like Filipino novelists. We are related in more ways than we can imagine, having been colonized by Spain for many years an

My brother, Manong Ralph, a human rights lawyer based in Manila, reads more voraciously than I do. In college he majored in English Studies, perhaps his best excuse to go the library and get lost in the world of stories and ideas. Analyzing stories of James Joyce wasn't a chore but a delight, which is why I wasn't surprised that he graduated top of his class. A lot of book ideas I gain from him. He introduced me to Michael Chabon, who appears in this list, and to many more authors who have made our lives and imaginations richer and grander.  At the beginning of the year, I decided to read Marcel Proust’s tome, In Search for Lost Time , beginning with Swann’s Way . A quarter into the book, 2018 is already about to end! I did manage to squeeze in a few books, having read them while stuck in traffic, waiting in court, or before bedtime. Here’s the top ten books I’ve read this year, in no particular order: 1. Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders At the heart of this novel

My friend, Kuya John Dasmariñas, based in Singapore, has spent a great deal of 2018 reading. I'm sharing his favorite reads. This was originally posted on his Instagram, but I'm sharing it now, with his permission. My Top 7 books based purely on how I felt after reading them; because while details escape you, feelings linger. 7. The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen - A comedy on relationships with our family, money, our ambitions and the cruelty of the world we all need to live with. Only an avant-garde writer can curate a plot that resonates with our very own musings we all are embarassed to tell even ourselves or our closest friends. 6. Smaller and Smaller Circles by FH Batacan - Apologies for the cheap analogy, but it's a page turner like Crazy Rich Asians. This first Filipino crime novel in English should be mandatory reading for all secondary students in the Philippines. 5. Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro - The short stories brought to life my introvert predi

Today was extraordinarily gloomy, with overcast skies and the occasional drizzle—my favorite version of God-ordained weather, as I do not care much for the sun, given that I live in the tropics, and discomfort from too much heat is a daily reality. Today was extraordinarily relaxing, too, because I had no errands and therefore had the entire day off. I chose to spend it on intermittent naps, books (hardbound and electronic), and Netflix (currently on Silvana Sin Lana, whose Spanish-speaking characters have Filipino emotions and proclivities—highly recommended by mother, so how could I say no?). I came across this passage from T.H. White's The Once and Future King, where Arthur, called Wart, asks Merlyn the magician to turn him into a bird. Before Merlyn answers, T.H. White launches into a beautiful description of the landscape, the kind that makes me long for pure, black-and-white classic stories like the one I'm reading now, where good always prevails, and the trees are love

I was so glad to meet up with some friends from my batch in PGH-Internal Medicine—as if, of course, we need catching up, this despite the fact that we bump into each other at the hospital on a weekly basis. Jay is pursuing further studies in Maryland, USA. Roland is in Pulmonology. Everly will pursue further studies abroad next year, having just finished her colorful stint as the department's Chief Resident (congratulations, Chevs!). Bea is in Endocrinology. Carla is in Pulmonology. Racquel is in Endocrinology. Rich is in Medical Oncology. Jeremiah is in Hematology. Roger is in Medical Oncology, too. This was snapped during Kuya Dane and Jo's wedding last Sunday. I just wanted to memorialize this photo here to remind myself that a year has passed since we finished residency. We're in different fields now, busy with various careers, but inside, trappings and degrees aside, we're still the same noisy, sleep- and food-loving people who care for accurate diagnoses and pro

I won some cash at yesterday's Christmas party and, before going home, I took some time reading my new copy of T.H. White's The Once and Future King , in a special hardbound edition by Penguin, at a café inside Robinson's. It opens with a foreword by Neil Gaiman who talks about science fiction/speculative fiction; he enumerates his favorite works, some of which I have already read, including Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guin and Dune by Frank Herbert. Seated across from me was a Japanese man copying sentences from an English newspaper using pencil and paper, reciting the words in a whisper as soon as he had written them—yet another proof that it's never too late to learn a new language.

via Instagram ... in keeping one awake—I say, why not have both? This was snapped after my leisurely morning rounds which rarely happens these days.

Let the glory of Your name be the passion of the Church Let the righteousness of God be a holy flame that burns Let the saving love of Christ be the measure of our lives We believe You're all to us

I'm grateful for the friendship I share with Kuya Dane Sacdalan and Jo Lucero who are now, as of today, husband and wife. I've known Kuya Dane since our undergraduate days in Molecular Biology at UP Diliman. He was—and still is—one of the kindest people I know, and talking to him always uplifts me, like breathing fresh air after being stuck inside a stuffy room. I was glad to meet him again in med school; he graduated earlier and pretty much took up the same career choices as I did: three years of Internal Medicine (UP–PGH) and another two in clinical fellowship in Medical Oncology (UP-PGH). He was my senior at the Medical ICU and remains a lifetime member of the OPD Team B (a badge that I, too, proudly carry). Whenever opportunity presented itself, I would ask him for advice. I sometimes send him emails the old-fashioned way, to which he would write heartfelt responses. On the occasion of my father's death, Kuya Dane wrote to me: Life is a sacrament of waiting—waiti

Here are some ideas. — fountain pen with a 1.1 mm stub nib (notify me first so I can direct your attention on which brands I prefer) — fountain pen ink (preferably Parker Quink blue-black, Pilot Irishuzoku of any color, and Noodler's black ink) — an unlined pocket notebook (not Moleskine, which isn't ideal for fountain pens) — any book by Marilynne Robinson, Kazuo Ishiguro, Ian McEwan, James Salter, and Jonathan Franzen — The Institutes of the Christian Religion by John Calvin — Systematic Theology by Wayne Grudem — shoe leather conditioner More importantly: — four 50 mg vials of oxaliplatin — three 80 mg vials of paclitaxel — one box of sorafenib, regorafenib, or lenvatinib — six vials of trastuzumab 600 mg — one free whole body FDG-PET CT scan And then there's always world peace. Or a round-trip ticket to New Zealand.

I’m rereading Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend , the first book of the Neapolitan novels, and it has given me enormous pleasure once again. I read this in 2015: my mother and her best friend, Auntie Cecil, went to the Lucky Chinatown Mall in Binondo, Manila to buy things. Meanwhile I preferred to stay at a Mary Grace café and read on my iPod. Here's a passage that appears on pages 106-107 that shows the unique dynamics between Elena and Lina: We were twelve years old, but we walked along the hot streets of the neighborhood, amind the dust and flies and the occasional old trucks stirred up as they passed, like two old ladies taking the measure of lives of disappointment, clinging tightly to each other. No one understood us, only we two—I thought—understood one another…There was something unbearable in the things, in the people, in the buildings, in the streets that, only if you reinvented it all, as in a game, became acceptable. The essential, however, was to know how to pl

This nature is changed in every believer; for it is impossible a man should stand bent to Christ with his old nature predominant in him, any more than a pebble can be attracted by a lodestone, till it put on the nature of steel. An unrighteous man cannot act righteously, it must therefore be God, who is above nature, that can clothe the soul with a new nature, and incline it to God and goodness in its operations. Now to see a lump of vice become a model of virtue; for one that drank in iniquity like water, to change that sinful thirst for another for righteousness; to crucify his darling flesh; to be weary of the poison he loved for the purity he hated; to embrace the gospel terms, which not his passion but his nature abhorred; to change his hating of duty to a free-will of offering of it; to make him cease from loathing the obligations of the law, to a longing to come up to the exactness of it; to count it a burden to have the thoughts at a distance from God, when before it was a bur

My stack of fiction reading.  Today was especially tiring, so I treated myself to printed books, Europa editions, of Elena Ferrante's Neapolitana series of novels. I've read the first two in my Kindle, but I'd love to read them, and the last two, in print. These will keep me company throughout the holidays. My brother, thrilled to see them on the dining table, made a very good point, "And where do you plan to display these?" As with most of my books, they find their ultimate home in our St. Gabriel house, where Nanay will likely complain that she doesn't have enough shelves to have these on display.

Almost every Sunday service, after the closing song is sung and the crowd starts to move out of the sanctuary, I am asked about a medical problem before I descend the stairs—from a stomach ache from too much coffee, to an anterior mediastinal mass that screams malignancy. I love talking to these brothers and sisters who call me “Doc” despite my protestations (“Just call me Lance”), but I’ve long since realized that this is their way of showing their endearment, their filial pride. It warms my heart that they think I can enlighten them as to what bodily issues they have, if they have cause to be worried, or if their own physicians are doing the right thing. I feel that these random consults are, in a sense, an extension of the clinic. Indeed, illnesses know no boundaries, and people close to us, even those with whom we share the same faith and theology, can suffer the humbling truth that bodies disintegrate, organs fail, and cells malfunction. Such is the bittersweet reminder that our

I had a great time moderating the PGH-sponsored PSMO Round Table Discussion on AIDS-related Malignancies. Our case was that of a 29-year old male with Kaposi sarcoma, presenting with cutaneous lesions as well as with internal organ involvement, i.e., lungs and liver. Rich King and Fred Ting discussed the details of the case and principles of management. Because I moderated the program, I had the chance to mine the clinical experience and expertise of our guests in the panel discussion. We were so grateful to have learned a great deal from Dr. Franscisca Roa (Dermatology), Dr. Dessi Roman (Infectious Disease), and Dr. Gracieux Fernando (Medical Oncology). Our colleagues from the seven other training institutions—St. Luke's, Makati Med, Veterans, Jose Reyes, Medical City, UST, and NKTI—were wonderful, answering spot-on the questions we threw at them, and sharing their institutional experience regarding the case. Here are photos taken by Norman Cabaya. Update (as of November 8, 2

I will be moderating the PGH-sponsored Philippine Society of Medical Oncology Round Table Discussion on AIDS-Related Malignancies tomorrow night. My friends and colleagues, Dr. Rich King and Fred Ting—rhyming, I know—will discuss an interesting case and some nitty-gritty details in the new approaches to these diseases. It will be followed by a panel discussion with the following experts: Dr. Francisca Roa (Dermatology), Dr. Dessi Roman (Infectious Disease), and Dr. Gracieaux Fernando (Medical Oncology). Some residents and fellows from Dermatology and IDS—and Hematology, I learned—will also be joining us. This is exciting news—having these great minds around—because management of these cases is largely multidisciplinary.

Christian theology goes against the grain of modern psychology, such as in the issue of self-esteem. Whereas we are taught that we are all good and should feel good (consider, for instance, the many Dove commercials, with self-esteem as the battle cry), Stephen Charnock , an English Puritan clergyman, wrote this about man as he pondered on the doctrine of regeneration. In ourselves we are nothing, we have nothing, can bring forth nothing spiritually good and acceptable to God; a mere composition of enmity to good and propensity to evil, of weakness and wickedness, of hell and death; a farden of impotence and conceitedness, perversity and inability, every way miserable unless infinite compassion relieve us We have no more freedom than a chained galley slave till Christ redeem us; no more strength than a putrefied carcass till Christ raise us, an unlamented hardness, an unregarded obstinacy, an insensible palsy spread over every part, a dreadful cannot and will not triumphing in the w

With the breakdown of the internet connection this weekend came more than sufficient time to take on leisure reading. During residency I resolved not have any internet connection at home to give myself time to study and rest. It proved a wise decision, as it helped settle my mind to rest, shielding me from unnecessary distractions. A distracted person is a bad physician. Since I moved in with my brother, I've had steady internet connection. It sometimes proved a distraction, but only during certain days. It has been useful for academic reading; anybody involved in oncology knows how fast things change in the field. But work generally exhausts me, and I treat myself to a few episodes of Netflix shows (the latest: The Kominsky Method, which my family loves) or some light reading before I go to bed, usually between 7:30 to 8 PM. How geriatric, I know.  Being able to relax and unwind makes me a better physician--this I have long since realized. By light reading, I mean the enj

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Just when I thought I had a hold over my impatience, the wifi connection at home broke down. For months I’ve dealt with patchy internet connection—this, given the fact that my brother and I are subscribed to PLDT Fibr , arguably the fastest connection available. It isn’t news that internet is more expensive in the Philippines than in most of the world; the internet service in this country has much to improve on. But for the past three days the connection had died. I called the PLDT customer service, but I only received platitudes, excuses, and an assurance that a report is being written, which will be forwarded to the technical service crew. A lineman arrived at home yesterday. His diagnosis was that the PLDT connection was fine; the problem is with the conduit connecting the modem and the TTC. The wire needed to be changed, he said, and it was left to me to contact an engineer who can replace the wires. In a few hours I was able to get hold of an engineer. This morning, the cat. 5 i

This reminds me of college. (Photo credit: Michael Dorado via Twitter )

By "favorite," I mean a quiet place where I can sip coffee, read books, and hear my own breathing. I love this charming restaurant in Tomas Morato called Uno. I go here on Thursdays, usually before my cell group in church.  The staff are kind and cheerful, and they leave me pretty much alone unless I ask for the bill or for a glass of water.

A life well-lived is how I would call John Allen Chau’s story—a 26-year old American missionary who was killed off the coast of India. He “attempted to share the gospel with the most isolated tribe in the world.” News like this gives me hope. To the rest of the world’s eyes, this is a waste. From a spiritual perspective, this is just the opposite. John Allen Chau’s death has adorned the gospel. He loved the Lord Jesus Christ so much that he chose to preach the gospel of salvation to the unreached, choosing this path in life over the comforts of a first-world home. May the Lord use his example to remind us that there are many people groups in the world that have not yet heard of Jesus. (Photo: Daily Mail )

My body is jolted into wakefulness at 4 am, around the time my bladder signals that it’s time to pee and get ready for work—my natural alarm clock. These morning wee hours are the most precious—the time I use to write on my journal, pray, read the Bible, meditate, and read some more. Tim Challies wrote in his book on productivity that one must work on the most important things first. A favorite song from Sunday School had lines that went, “Read your Bible; pray every day.” This morning habit I largely derived from Tatay, who woke up before everyone else did and head over to my room, turn the lights on, read his Bible aloud, and some passages from a book by AW Tozer, his favorite. This used to irritate me, but now that he has passed on, I miss it—it was as if he was reading for me passages about the sovereignty of God. If I have extra time, before I catch my 6 am train, I read the news, go to The Old Reader to check if the blogs I follow have posted new things, eat a quick breakf

As you all know, I don't relish attending wedding ceremonies but take particular exception to invitation from close friends. Imagine my surprise when Brian (whom I still, after all these years, refer to as Aljur—a long story), asked me to join his wedding entourage because someone else, his cousin, as I recall, could not make it to the ceremony. Aljur is a quiet, kind, and introverted man who was part of our lunch group in med school. Over the course of many years, I've worked with him on several cases, especially head and neck tumors; he is about to finish residency in otorhinolaryngology (ORL) this year. Mayi is a fascinating specimen of a human being with so much energy, grace, and joy packed in a petite frame. Talking to her is comparable to a satisfying shot of espresso. Our internship blocks had many overlaps in the rotation, and during downtimes, I enjoyed stories of her extraordinary and accomplished family and her love of books. She is now doing residency in OB-Gyn. Br

Sinclair Ferguson on what he would say to his younger self.

I've been quoting FB Meyer unabashedly. His book, Love to the Uttermost , is a compilation of his preachings on the Book of John. It is a masterpiece of good writing and good theology. It has been a blessing to my soul, as it has proven useful material for my daily devotion. This Sunday I'd like to encourage you with FB Meyer's vision of God's love. This is the concluding statement of his preaching on John 18:4, "Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, 'Whom do you seek?'" If it moved Him to endure the Cross and despise the shame, is there anything that it will not withhold, anything that it will not do? His love is stronger than death, and mightier than the grave. Strong waters cannot quench it, floods cannot down it. It silences all praise, and beggars all recompense. To believe and accept it is eternal life. To dwell within its embrace is the foretaste of everlasting joy. To be filled by it is to be tra

Senate OKs bill on national integrated cancer control program , reported by GMA News: Voting 18-0, the Senate approved on third and final reading Monday a bill seeking to institutionalize a national integrated cancer control program...  The bill will establish a National Integrated Cancer Control Council whose sole focus is to implement programs that will not only provide comprehensive, accessible and affordable cancer treatments for all cancer patients, but will also work on minimizing the incidence of preventable cancer cases... The bill shall also mandate the establishment of the Philippine Cancer Center, under the control and supervision of the University of the Philippines-Philippine General Hospital (UP-PGH), for the treatment and accommodation of cancer patients. The center shall also initiate research, in collaboration with other universities, hospital and institutions, for cancer prevention and cure... Likewise, regional cancer centers shall be established nationwide fo

This moves me. A Happy Birthday by Ted Kooser . This evening I sat by an open window and read till the light was gone and the book was no more than a part of the darkness. I could easily have switched on a lamp, but I wanted to ride this day down into night, to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page with the pale gray ghost of my hand.

From F. B. Meyer, "Love to the Uttermost": It is not difficult, therefore, to go through the world and escape its hate. We have only to adopt its maxims, speak its language, and conform to its ways . . . Ah, how many pleading glances are cast at us to induce us to spare ourselves and others, by toning down out speech, and covering our regimentals by the disguising cloke of conformity to the world around! “If you do not approve, at least you need not express your disapproval.” “If you cannot vote for, at least do not vote against.” If you dissent, put your sentiments in courtly phrase, and so pare them down that they may not offend sensitive ears.

My package from Amazon arrived, the first of its kind I've received. It's a pair of chukka boots, my early Christmas gift for Manong. Another one is arriving next week, also a pair of chukka boots (same brand, different leather color) for Sean. I have the same pair of shoes, too. We dress the same way, my brothers and I, and share many interests. Over the years they've become fans of automatic wristwatches, fountain pens, and eyeglasses. When I met the UPS delivery guy at my building's lobby last night, I felt, upon receipt of the box, like it was "Christmas morning." I remember my friend Rac, who calls happy days "Christmas mornings." The chukkas and the wristwatches were due to my friend Carlos's rabid interest in their items, a fascination that infected me throughout these years I've known him.

I'm not impressed by farm-to-table restaurants. I suppose that's because I grew up eating vegetables plucked from the farm, our neighbor's garden, and our own backyard, that I find the concept ordinary. For lunch at home, we had the pakô salad—picked from Auntie Lisa's farm—drizzled with vinegar, and to which mother added slices of fresh mango. This wasn't the main dish; for that, we had tuna pangá and a mouth-watering serving of rice (store-bought, not from our farm. The harvest season won't be until a few months).

Kung ano ang bigkas, siya rin ang baybay. Pomme frites stall at Golden Valley Memorial Garden, Koronadal City, South Cotabato.

Dwarsliggers–these are called. They are developed in the Netherlands and will be adopted by Penguin, targeting the young. I'm no longer as young, but whatever gets me reading, I will try at some point. The design makes sense, and I'm excited to try one of these books as soon as they become available locally. Glad to read this quote from Carl Sagan: “A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic . . . It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years.” It goes without saying that I've been doing most of my reading in my Kindle (I named it John Ames —one has to during device registration) because of storage limitations where I live. I still read paperbacks, especially old ones, because I like how they smell. Photo credits: NYT

I took the earliest flight to Gensan. I was at NAIA at 2 AM. Traffic from Mandaluyong to Pasay was light. There weren't long queues at the airport. I read a book on my Kindle, did some academic reading in my laptop, and slept throughout much of the flight. It was the perfect arrangement. My kid brother Sean picked me up from the airport on November 1 at 6 AM. In my family, apart from my father who had already passed away, he remains the only one who can get behind the wheel. We passed by the fruit stands in Tupi, where we bought papaya , mangga, pinya , and melon,  to give to mother. We visited Tatay's grave at 8 AM and chatted with old friends and acquaintances. Nanay hosted a party for close family and friends that evening. November 1 felt a lot like a family reunion. The next day, Sean drove Manong Ralph to Auntie Lisa's property in Banga. Manong spoke at the church's youth camp, exhorting the participants, who used to be in Sunday school (how times flies!)

Here's a helpful comment by Drs. Filho and Burstein . The PHARE, HORG, and SOLD studies also failed to demonstrate non-inferiority. To date, only one of 5 trials of shorter vs longer durations of adjuvant trastuzumab – the PERSEPHONE study of 6 vs 12 months – has demonstrated non-inferiority for a shorter regimen. All the others showed a measurable 2-3% reduction in recurrence risk with the longer duration of trastuzumab therapy. The conclusion is that, for Her-2 positive breast cancer, 12 months of trastuzumab is still better than a shorter duration of giving the said drug. But based on the data in Short-HER2 and four other trials of treatment duration, we believe that 12 months of trastuzumab, including 3 months of concurrent administration with taxane-based chemotherapy, remains the standard of care and the optimal duration of therapy. Lesser durations of trastuzumab maintenance treatment appear associated with a greater risk of disease recurrence. The article's fi

F.B. Meyer's Love to the Uttermost has been used by the Lord to encourage me in my daily devotions. In his preaching, "Heaven Delayed, but Guaranteed," he expounds on John 13:36: "Simon Peter said unto Him, Lord, wither goest Thou? Jesus answered him. Whither I go, thou canst follow Me now; but thou shalt follow Me afterward." To celebrate the lives of those who have gone before us, this is an assurance of heaven, where God is. The presence of God makes it so. It is the love that Christians long for. F.B. Meyer erupts in praise of this love. There is no love like His—so pure and constant and satisfying. What the sun is to a star-light, and the ocean to a pool left by the retiring tide, such is the love of Jesus compared with all other love. To have it is superlative blessedness, to miss it is to thirst forever. Read Love to Uttermost for free here .

F.B. Meyer, in Love to the Uttermost: Expositions of John XIII - XXI , writes: The highest love is ever quickest to detect that failures and inconsistencies of the beloved. Just because of its intensity, it can be content with nothing less than the best, because the best means the blessedest; and it longs that the object of its thought should be most blessed forever. It is a mistake to think that green-eyed jealousy is quickest to detect the spots on the sun, the freckles on the face, and the marring discords in the music of life; love is quicker, more microscopic, more exacting than the ideal should be achieved. Envy is content to indicate the fault, and leave it; but love detects, and waits and holds its peace until the fitting opportunity arrives, and then sets itself to remove, with its own tenderest ministry, the defect which had spoiled the completeness and beauty of its object.

Frank Herbert on the so-called writing block : A man is a fool not to put everything he has, at any given moment, into what he is creating. You're there now doing the thing on paper. You're not killing the goose, you're just producing an egg. So I don't worry about inspiration, or anything like that. It's a matter of just sitting down and working. I have never had the problem of a writing block. I've heard about it. I've felt reluctant to write on some days, for whole weeks, or sometimes even longer. I'd much rather go fishing, for example, or go sharpen pencils, or go swimming, or what not. But, later, coming back and reading what I have produced, I am unable to detect the difference between what came easily and when I had to sit down and say, "Well, now it's writing time and now I'll write." There's no difference on paper between the two.

In our local church we're asked to memorize bits of Scripture. At the end of the Sunday service, a person or a group of persons (such as cell/Bible study groups) is asked to recite the passion verse for the week. Someone had the idea of making Instagram posts out of them —they're beautiful! For instance, the passion verse this week is: View this post on Instagram John 14:23 (NASB 1977) 'Jesus answered and said to him, “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him, and make Our abode with him.' #passionfortheword #passionverse #higherrockchurch A post shared by Higher Rock Christian Church (@higherrockchurch) on Oct 11, 2018 at 5:38pm PDT Here are other passion verses . I love the typography, color, and most importantly, the message these convey.

Hari Balasubramanian's essay at 3QD resonates with me . It's a beautiful, beautiful piece that brings warmth to my heart and helps me make sense of the things I currently do. Like him, I'm in a very technical field of medicine (one may of course argue that it is both science and art, but the science part takes years of formal training, and a lot of objective multiple choice exams), but I spend a lot of time with the humanities, mostly literature, during my free time. I’ve always thought of myself as someone who is more drawn to the humanities than to math or the sciences. This can seem very puzzling to someone looks at my career details: degrees in engineering and a career in academia in a branch of applied mathematics called operations research. Even I am stumped sometimes – how did I get so deep into a quantitative field when all my life I’ve held that literature (literary fiction in particular), history and travel are far better at revealing something about the human c

Manila is sometimes charming but is often frustrating.

After church last Sunday, my brother had his shoes cleaned, and I found myself lost in Booksale, the second-hand book store that holds, within its walls, a vortex that traps me and removes all sense of time and place. The short of it is: nawili ako . Imagine the thrill I had when I found a copy of Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert! For 50 pesos! My friend Juanchi Pablo introduced me to Dune, which I wrote about in 2014 . It is a book that opened my eyes to the joys of reading science fiction and fantasy. Paul Artreides's sister Alia is now grown up, a sarcastic, powerful, intuitive Reverend Mother, trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit. Paul is now called the Muad'dib, the Emperor of the known worlds in the galaxy, and he has to confront opposition, intrigue, and mystery that comes with his powers.

Dr. Butch Dalisay asks the question many of us often wonder about, when he browsed through copies of printed materials from the 50s: Where have all the great minds gone? I’m taking stock of my latest acquisition of old books and magazines, delivered to my office by a seller who seems to have hit upon a trove of scholarly materials from the 1950s and 1960s, very likely from the estate of one or two of that period’s leading academics. They include copies of the Diliman Review, a prominent journal of the University of the Philippines since the early 1950s; the University College Journal, from the early 1960s when UP still had a University College in charge of implementing its General Education Program for the student’s first two years; the Philippine Social Sciences and Humanities Review, established in 1929; and Comment, a liberal quarterly from the late 1950s. There’s a special issue of the Philippine Collegian from 1957 devoted solely to the topic of academic freedom. A unique bo