Two summers ago, I participated in the COSMOS UC Santa Cruz program studying nanochemistry. In between going on hikes and making friendship bracelets, I learned from two professors: Professor Chen who spoke with a thick accent and Professor Terrill who loved to present his slides out of order and play with lasers. We studied advancements in nanochemistry that let us break into a realm that surgery and conventional medicine could not touch. Nanotechnology’s ability to interact with cells allows us to successfully cross the blood-brain barrier.
I left convinced that all of science, and maybe all of life, was about learning to break barriers.
Nanotechnology shows lots of potential for treating brain diseases like Alzheimers. I’d been volunteering at the Alzheimer’s care center by my house, where there are certainly many barriers to overcome.
It had hardly been a week since I started volunteering when I heard a resident crying, “Help. Someone please help me”. I immediately rushed over and sat beside her; it didn’t seem like anything was wrong. The woman, Mary-Anne, gave me a glimpse of living a life where the only constant is unfamiliarity and loneliness. All I could do was listen. After a few minutes, I left to refill her glass of water, but when I returned, Mary-Anne looked at me and said, “Excuse me, my friend was sitting here.” Even though she had forgotten who I was, the companionship I provided hadn’t been forgotten.
Through these interactions, I became even more curious about what went on at the molecular level in their minds. I learned that this awful disease was the result of a small chemical imbalance in the brain. At COSMOS, I also learned more about the emerging use of machine learning to analyze MRI scans to identify the early stages of Alzheimers.
Wanting to know more, I started interning at the Computational Chemistry lab at SDSC, exploring how machine learning can revolutionize how we solve problems in chemistry. I was fascinated by how the intersection between these distinct branches of science utilized volumes of data to tackle previously unsolvable problems.
During my internship, I was determined to make the best of the resources and guidance I was given. But that meant spending less time volunteering at the care center. Over a month later, I came back to visit the seniors. But when I asked about Mary-Anne, the director told me she had passed away. It hurt to learn that she spent her last few days alone, without family or visitors. I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.
That’s why I created Golden Years, a website I wrote that uses video conferencing to connect high school students and residents. Brimming with excitement, I approached the volunteering center director, Denise, with my idea. She was intrigued but skeptical of the residents’ ability to navigate technology. I remember trying to hand my phone to a resident to show her a picture of my dog and her saying, “But if I touch it, it will explode!” Denise was probably right--technology was a barrier.
So I programmed a new platform, one that’s simple and intuitive. There’s only one button: “connect.” Residents weren’t as intimidated by this. With a little persuasion, they began pushing the connect button to initiate remote calls with volunteers as well as family members. One resident, Tito, loved using it with his grandchildren. Bill’s daughter was so happy with a new means to connect to her dad. Taking a cue from Bill’s adoration for animals, we personalized his portal with pictures of his dog.
We also started collecting data in hopes that someday we can make better sense of this disease. In the future, AI and machine learning may be able to extract patterns that could offer insights that eventually lead to a cure, or at least to early detection.
Scientific breakthroughs are extremely rare, but if we get too fixated on anticipating a big breakthrough, we'll be neglecting those who are suffering now. So while I'm optimistic about the potential for new technologies and human innovation to address some of the most insurmountable challenges we're facing, In the meantime, barriers are broken by small things--friendships, phone calls or lecture slides--that come to mean more.