When This Professor Got Cancer, He Didn’t Quit. He Taught a Class About It.

At just 50 years old and a nonsmoker, Dr. Lin had been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer four months ago. The prognosis was terminal, and he was told that the medication he was on would only work for about two more years. Rather than stepping back from work, Dr. Lin chose to teach a course that fall quarter focused on his own cancer journey.

The class filled up almost instantly, and by the time the semester began, the room was packed—some students had to sit on the floor, and others couldn’t even get in.

“I’m truly honored by this,” Dr. Lin said, his voice wavering. “The fact that you chose to sign up for my course.”

He started the course by sharing a personal story about why he became a doctor. He picked up a letter he had received from a patient years ago, a man who was dying from chronic kidney disease. The patient and his family had decided to stop dialysis, knowing it meant the end of his life.

Dr. Lin wiped his eyes as he read the letter aloud.

“‘I want to thank you so much for taking such good care of me in my old age,’” he read, quoting the patient. “‘You treated me as if you were caring for your own father.’”

This final message of gratitude had deeply affected Dr. Lin. He explained that the purpose of his 10-week course—From Diagnosis to Dialogue: A Doctor’s Real-Time Battle With Cancer—was to give back to the community in a similar way.

“This class is part of my letter, part of my way of giving back as I navigate this journey,” he explained.

The class was open to students beyond the medical school, and one freshman, who had missed the initial registration, caught up by watching the recorded lectures. Despite not being able to enroll, he reached out to Dr. Lin, who granted him permission to follow the course online. The freshman had questions that needed answers.

From Doctor to Patient

Last spring, Dr. Lin developed a severe, persistent cough. A CT scan revealed a large mass in his lungs, and a subsequent bronchoscopy confirmed the diagnosis: cancer. The disease had spread to his liver, bones, and brain, with 50 tumors in his brain alone. Dr. Lin is married and has two teenage sons.

The diagnosis hit especially hard given his work. As a clinical professor and primary care physician, Dr. Lin was a founding member of the Stanford Center for Asian Health Research and Education, which focuses on diseases like nonsmoker lung cancer, a condition more common in Asian populations.

Dr. Lin, known for his vibrant personality and infectious laugh, is a respected mentor and leader. He’s referred to as a “pied piper” of ideas, someone who can inspire others to rally around a shared vision. In addition to his medical work, he leads Stanford’s medical humanities program and holds patents for medical devices.

Despite the challenging diagnosis, Dr. Lin remained dedicated to his patients and students. He underwent targeted therapy to combat the specific mutation driving his cancer, alongside chemotherapy that caused nausea and mouth sores.

In a video diary, Dr. Lin remarked, “This is a day in the life of a cancer patient. I guess that’s who I am now. Not just a dad or husband.”

After several rounds of treatment, Dr. Lin’s symptoms improved, and scans revealed significant reductions in the cancer. He continued to teach and care for his patients, pondering how to best use the time he had left.

He reflected on a letter from the dying dialysis patient, who had written it as an act of appreciation. Dr. Lin hoped that, through his course, some students might dedicate themselves to cancer care and, more importantly, understand the human side of medicine.

The “Primary Care” Model

Dr. Lin’s class met every Wednesday for about an hour. In one session, he discussed how doctors should approach difficult conversations. He emphasized that being honest enough to admit “I don’t know” is crucial—something he himself had to learn to accept after his diagnosis.

Another session covered the role of spirituality in cancer care. Although Dr. Lin isn’t religious, he shared how he found comfort in the prayers and well-wishes from others.

During a lesson on the psychological toll of cancer, Dr. Lin talked about his own emotional struggle. Despite progress in his treatment, part of him still clung to the hope of a miraculous cure.

He explained that he taught the class using a “primary care” approach: while he shared his experiences, he brought in guest speakers—specialists who could provide deeper insights.

One of the first experts to speak was Dr. Natalie Lui, a thoracic surgeon. She explained the prevalence of lung cancer in nonsmokers, particularly among Asian populations, where it can be as high as 80% in certain ethnic groups.

For a session on caregiving, Dr. Lin invited his wife, Christine Chan, to speak. The students, some of whom were in scrubs, listened intently as she shared her experiences as a caregiver. She discussed the challenges of balancing medical jargon with personal care and the strain of coordinating well-meaning offers of help.

Christine, an MIT graduate and program manager at Google DeepMind, said she had to let go of her need to control the future. “We have to take it one day at a time,” she said, with Dr. Lin nodding in agreement.

A Job Not Quite Finished

As Dr. Lin taught, some students found it difficult to reconcile his upbeat attitude with the severity of his prognosis. Gideon Witchel, a freshman, described his experience: “I expected something more existential, but Dr. Lin stayed positive, even cracking jokes.”

Witchel had been motivated to take the course after his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer when he was five. He had never really talked to her about her illness and hoped the class might help him open that conversation. After a session on spirituality, he approached Dr. Lin with a question: did teaching the class help him feel more in control of his diagnosis?

Dr. Lin responded immediately: no. “I focus on what I can control—how I live today. Is this time worthwhile?” he explained, and asked, “Does that make sense?”

For Mr. Witchel, the class offered profound insights. He had finally discussed his mother’s cancer with her, and through the course, he found the courage to address the topic more openly.

The ‘Luckiest Man’

The final class took place on a sunny December day in a Stanford hospital library, with views of the foothills and a rooftop garden. Dr. Lin stood at the front, ready to share his closing remarks, drawing inspiration from Lou Gehrig’s farewell speech.

“For the past quarter, you’ve heard about the tough break I got,” he said. “Yet today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.”

With that, he choked up. “I’m lucky,” he said, listing the people in his life who had brought him joy and meaning: his sons, his wife, his students, his colleagues, and his patients.

“I may have had a tough break,” he concluded, “but I have a lot to live for. Thank you. It’s been an honor.”

By the end of the course, many students were contemplating careers in cancer care, and Dr. Lin’s story had moved them in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Some students even urged their parents to get screened for lung cancer. For Mr. Witchel, the course helped him connect with his mother in a new way, having had the difficult conversations he’d long avoided.

His mother, like Dr. Lin, had written letters during her illness. She had used them to process her emotions and stay connected with family. “It wasn’t about finishing the puzzles,” she wrote about the waiting areas at the hospital. “It was about trying.”

This lesson, learned through her writings, mirrored Dr. Lin’s message: it’s not about the end, but the journey itself.