Transcript: Dr. Ben Corn, professor of Oncology at Hebrew University of Jerusalem Medical School, and deputy director of the Shaare Zedek Medical Center, discusses his current research with NRG Oncology and SWOG on the study of the science of hope, and it's role as a mediator in well-being and health care improvement. Dr. Corn is co-founder and CEO of the NGO, Life's Door, which teaches health professionals, patients and others strategies for hope, meaning and well-being throughout illness and at the end-of-life.   Transcript ASCO Daily News: Welcome to the ASCO Daily News Podcast. I'm Geraldine Carroll, a reporter for the ASCO Daily News. Our guest today is Dr. Benjamin Corn, a professor of oncology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem Medical School and deputy director of the Shaare Zedek Medical Center. Dr. Corn is the co-founder and chairman of the nonprofit organization Life's Door, which teaches health professionals, patients, and caregivers strategies for hope, meaning, and well-being throughout illness and at the end of life. Dr. Corn was honored with the 2021 ASCO Humanitarian Award and joins me to discuss his work, including his current research on the study of the science of hope and its role as a mediator in well-being and health care improvement. Dr. Corn's full disclosures are available in our show notes, and transcripts for all episodes are available at asco.org/podcasts. Dr. Corn, it's great to have you on the podcast. Dr. Benjamin Corn: It's a pleasure to be here, and thank you very much, Geraldine. ASCO Daily News: Dr. Corn, can you tell us about the experiences early on in your personal life and then your medical training that prompted your interest in helping patients find hope and meaning while navigating cancer treatment? Dr. Benjamin Corn: Sure. I think everyone has a story that sent them on their way for a career in medicine, which for many of us is not a job. It's not a career. It's a mission. My personal story had to do with losing a parent, my dad, at a very young age. He died of prostate cancer, left behind three young children and a lovely widow, who was my mom. And I was quite disappointed with the way the system tried to cope with the reality that was now forced upon us. There were no viable options for somebody with metastatic prostate cancer then. But yet, there was not a cognizance of some of the psychological trauma that we would all have in trying to navigate our daily lives. And I was very surprised also the way my dad's death was communicated to the family. And I've spoken about this in a variety of podcast settings and written a piece for the JCO narrative section about 10 years ago on that, some of what I found to be harshness, coldness of telling us that our dad was not going to make it and how the bad news was conveyed (PMID: 24733795). And so, with that, I was an 11-year-old child, and I very much was intent on curing this thing called prostate cancer to make sure other middle-aged men wouldn't suffer from it, and their families wouldn't have to pick up the pieces. And I went to medical school. I entered my residency in oncology at University of Pennsylvania, thinking that that was my destiny. And when I got to the wards, I was quite disillusioned because I saw a variety of scenarios that told me things hadn't changed drastically in 7 or 8 years since losing my dad and initiating my medical studies. I saw many cases of senior attending physicians, who were fantastic scientists, brilliant researchers, and yet didn't seem to pay enough attention to the subtleties of making sure that a family was whole, bringing in other resources. This was right before what I would call a palliative care revolution. We didn't have the Tamil paper, the Zimmermann paper, the Bakitas paper. And we didn't really know the value of early interventions with teams that included not only oncologists but also nurses and psychologists, chaplains, who could help navigate such a difficult period for patients and fo