Insights from a WashU Physician Scientist: Career, Mentorship, and Life Choices
Hello! If this is your first visit, welcome! And if you’ve been here before, welcome back!
This post is a little different from our usual updates. We had the rare chance to sit down with our father, a physician-scientist at Washington University in St. Louis (WashU) who specializes in a very rare disease called Wolfram syndrome. We’ve grown up watching him work, but we’ve never really had a one-on-one talk about his career path, why he made certain choices, and what he’s learned along the way.
So we asked him about how he built his career, why he chose to focus on a super rare disease, and what advice he’d give us—and others—about choosing a meaningful path in life.
Here’s the gist of our conversation.
Q&A
Thomas: We’re curious—why did you decide to develop your career in the U.S. rather than Japan, where you were born and grew up? When did you first come here?
Dad: Well, I came to the U.S. about 27 years ago to study the molecular mechanisms of cancer. At that time, so many breakthroughs were happening—new drugs and diagnostics based on molecular biology, like recombinant insulin, G-CSF, and erythropoietin. The Human Genome Project was just starting, too. The U.S. was really leading in all of that, and I wanted to be in the middle of it. Honestly, it felt like the best place to learn from the cutting edge.
Craig: What made you choose Wolfram syndrome, such a rare disease?
Dad: That’s a good question. I think it goes back to growing up in a medical family. My dad was a pathologist who studied pediatric cancers, and my mom was a pediatrician, so I was always drawn to children’s diseases.
Early in my training, I helped diagnose a boy with a rare cancer using new genetic tests. We finally had the right diagnosis, but… he didn’t make it. I still remember his face and his mother’s face. That experience stayed with me. It made me realize that diagnosis isn’t enough—you need to really understand the biology if you want to create treatments.
Working on rare diseases is tough. Patients are few, funding is limited, and families are scattered across the globe. But the flip side is inspiring—patients, families, foundations, and researchers working together. That’s what pulled me toward Wolfram syndrome. It gave me a sense of purpose: turning discoveries in the lab into therapies that might actually change lives.
Thomas: I’ve been meaning to ask this. Do you remember when my computer broke last year and you lent me your old one? I noticed a pink Post-it note on it that said, “I have a dream that there will be a cure for diabetes.” And I’ve noticed you’re still using the same image on your new computer. Was that from a patient?
Dad: Yes, it was. A 10-year-old boy gave me that note right after I started my clinic at WashU. He had an early-onset form of the disease. He handed me that message, and I’ve kept it ever since. Now it’s my screensaver, and I won’t change it until we find a treatment for Wolfram.
It’s my promise to her—and really to all my patients. Research and clinical trials can be long, exhausting, and sometimes overwhelming. But when I see that note, I remember why I’m doing this. I picture her smile, and the smiles of so many others. That keeps me going.
Craig: You also seem really close to your patients and their families. I remember going bowling with them, or running alongside them in that two-mile marathon. Did you plan to do that, or did it just happen naturally?
Dad: Yes—because I try to really hear them and connect with them, not just in the clinic but personally too. But also no—because with Wolfram syndrome being so rare, families find me as one of the few specialists. Some even fly across countries to see me, so it naturally becomes more than just treatment. I also feel responsible for keeping them updated on what we’re learning.
And honestly, I learn a lot from them too. Wolfram is devastating. Many patients don’t live past their 30s. What struck me most was how much they talked about vision loss. Managing insulin and blood sugar is tough, but what they say is hardest is slowly losing their sight. That’s the symptom they find most devastating.
So in our lab, yes, we’re aiming for the ultimate cure—developing gene therapies and so on. But those take time. In the meantime, we’re also focused on treatments that can slow symptoms, especially vision loss. Because it’s not just about understanding the disease—it’s about understanding what it feels like to live with it every day. That’s what guides our work.
Thomas: When choosing a career, what do you think is important beyond the science?
Dad: I’d say—focus on impact. Ask yourself: What excites me? What problems do I want to solve? How can I use my skills to help others? People often say to listen to your inner voice, and I believe that. It’s not always easy, but if you don’t know what drives you, it’s hard to keep pushing forward. Careers are long journeys. Recognition is nice, but impact—that’s what really matters.
Craig: Looking back, what do you hope we take away from your experiences?
Dad: I want you both to think about what makes you feel excited, happy, and inspired. That’s the compass. But day-to-day, my motto is: Take action. Don’t wait for things to be perfect—just take the first step. Keep moving forward.
And along the way, be kind to everyone. Remember, the people you meet on the way up are often the same ones you’ll meet later. Relationships matter. If you can keep that in mind and keep your work meaningful, I think you’ll build a good life.
We really appreciated this chance to hear our dad’s perspective—not just as a physician scientist, but as a father. Even though we’ve seen him at work for years, sitting down one-on-one gave us a fresh perspective on what it means to pursue meaningful work—and how we can think about our own paths ahead.
Thanks for reading all the way through! Talk to you soon.
