Today we’re going to be talking about clinical trials—and why I’ve never considered them, why they’ve never even crossed my mind.
And I want to share something very personal with you. A story from my childhood. Something that shaped how I see medicine, treatment, and health decisions to this day.
A Childhood Memory That Changed Everything
When I was around 8 or 9 years old, I had a very close uncle. He was incredibly important to me and to our entire family.
He was 24 years old.
At 24, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
This was back in the early 1990s, in California. Medical research and understanding were very different then compared to today—less advanced, less nuanced, and with fewer treatment options.
What makes this story even more heartbreaking is that everything started on what should have been one of the happiest days of his life.
He got married to his childhood sweetheart. They had been together since they were 15. Finally, at 24, they decided to get married.
But on the night of his wedding reception, he started experiencing severe headaches.
At first, it seemed like something small. But it wasn’t.
He saw a local doctor while on his destination wedding trip, and was advised to return to the United States for further evaluation. When he came back and was seen at UCLA, the diagnosis was devastating:
A brain tumor in a location that could not be operated on.
And the prognosis given was equally devastating:
He had about six months to live.
A Young Life Suddenly Put on Pause
To understand the impact of this, you have to understand who my uncle was.
He was tall—around 6’4″ or 6’5″. He was athletic, strong, active, and healthy. He looked like someone who had his whole life ahead of him.
And yet, at 24 years old, he was told he might not see his 25th birthday.
Our family was shattered.
At that age, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about endings. He was just beginning his life—newly married, building a future, stepping into adulthood.
But instead, everything shifted overnight.
The Clinical Trials Decision
At UCLA, he was given options. One of those options was clinical trials.
He chose it.
And while it did extend his life slightly—by several months—the reality of what followed was extremely difficult.
Over time, his condition deteriorated significantly.
The clinical trial treatment came with intense side effects:
- Rapid and extreme weight gain
- Loss of mobility
- Vision loss
- Loss of function on one side of his body
- Increasing dependence on others for basic daily care
Within months, he became almost unrecognizable physically and functionally.
He went from being a strong, independent young man to someone who needed help with bathing, walking, and basic movement.
For my family—especially his wife and my grandmother—this was emotionally and physically exhausting. They were both petite women trying to care for someone whose condition had completely changed.
And I was just a child, witnessing all of it.
What I Saw as a Child
At 8 or 9 years old, I didn’t have the language for what I was seeing.
But I knew this much:
Something about this path felt deeply wrong.
I watched a young man decline not only because of illness, but because of the treatment intended to help him.
And that stayed with me.
Not just the loss—but the process.
The suffering.
The transformation that felt like it took away dignity, comfort, and quality of life.
Why Clinical Trials Never Became an Option for Me
Because of that experience, clinical trials have never felt like a viable path for me personally.
It’s not just an abstract opinion.
It’s tied to lived memory.
So when I see clinical trial advertisements today—especially those targeting vulnerable people—I feel a very strong internal reaction. Not curiosity. Not interest. But caution.
Because I’ve seen, firsthand, what uncertainty in treatment can do to a human life and a family system.
A Broader Reflection on Medical Risk and Unknowns
This is not a rejection of medicine.
It’s a recognition that medical progress often comes with uncertainty.
Many treatments and interventions in history were later re-evaluated years down the line once long-term effects became clearer. Sometimes that takes 5 years. Sometimes 20. Sometimes longer.
That is the reality of evolving science.
Which is why blind trust—without understanding risk, alternatives, and long-term implications—can be dangerous.
Why This Matters in the Context of Hair Loss
When it comes to conditions like hair loss or alopecia, people are often vulnerable, desperate, and searching for answers.
And in that space, clinical trials can feel like hope.
But I’ve learned to ask different questions:
- What are the unknowns?
- What are the long-term effects?
- What happens if things go wrong?
- What quality of life changes could occur?
Because “new” does not always mean “safe” or “right for you.”
Choice, Awareness, and Ownership
What my uncle’s story taught me is not fear—it’s awareness.
Awareness that every medical decision carries weight.
Awareness that every treatment path has trade-offs.
And awareness that we should never enter decisions blindly, especially when the long-term picture is unclear.
My uncle didn’t have the luxury of hindsight. We don’t either when we make decisions today.
But we do have the ability to slow down, question, and choose with intention.
This is why clinical trials have never been part of my thinking or my approach.
Not because I reject healing.
But because I deeply value clarity, safety, and lived experience when it comes to the human body.
If there’s one thing I hope you take away from this story, it’s this:
Your health decisions deserve full awareness—not just hope, not just promises, and not just optimism without understanding.
And sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is ask better questions before you say yes.
