
AMA President Shares Brain Cancer Journey on World Cancer Day
Key Takeaways
- An 8-cm grade 2 astrocytoma presented after a year of dismissed expressive aphasia, reinforcing the importance of symptom recognition, screening, and prompt diagnostic escalation.
- The post-operative, pre-pathology interval created profound prognostic ambiguity, demonstrating the need for explicit psychosocial support and clinician comfort with emotional disclosure.
After a brain cancer diagnosis, Dr. Bobby Mukkamala says becoming a patient highlighted care barriers, emotions and the need for access and support.
After being diagnosed with an eight-centimeter, grade 2 astrocytoma at the end of 2024, Dr. Bobby Mukkamala said becoming a patient reshaped how he understands what patients with cancer experience each day.
In an interview with CURE, the American Medical Association president and head and neck surgeon described undergoing brain surgery, tests and insurance hurdles, including prior authorization for a $900-a-day IDH inhibitor. He said the uncertainty between surgery and pathology results was especially emotional and emphasized the need for early detection, equitable access to care and stronger emotional support for patients and families on World Cancer Day.
CURE: As both a physician and someone who has experienced a cancer diagnosis firsthand, how has becoming a patient changed the way you understand what people with cancer go through day to day?
Mukkamala: It's been an incredibly informative, very moving experience. I thought that before I became a cancer patient — and I think it's true — nobody is closer to patients, particularly those with cancer, than their physician. As a head and neck surgeon, that's what I've done for 25 years, helping people navigate this complex system related to such a scary diagnosis. Then, literally six months before being inaugurated as president of the American Medical Association, I had an MRI that showed an eight-centimeter, grade two astrocytoma.
Being on death's door as a patient made me appreciate so much about the physician perspective, but also, unfortunately, understand the barriers to care that everybody has, especially patients with cancer, because of all the things that need fixing. So I can't help but think that part of it was a blessing. I can understand both perspectives, so when I became president, I could better inform the things I was working on.
World Cancer Day is often about awareness, but for people already living with cancer, it can feel very personal. What does this day mean to you now, and how do you hope it supports patients and survivors?
It means a lot. I think so much of what we try to convey as the American Medical Association on World Cancer Day is the importance of things like screening, detecting issues early and treating them early so they're less likely to have a bad outcome. These are all important things to share.
What I would also say is that being a patient with cancer allows you not just to inform people from the medical perspective based on the science, but from the experience itself. When I got diagnosed from that MRI scan, it was nine o'clock at night. My whole family was in the room and I told them what it showed. Within 24 hours, I was starting telemedicine consultations with some of the most talented neurosurgeons in the country. The access to care I have is something I can now speak about as a patient — why it's important to have that access and why it's important not to ignore symptoms.
My symptom was expressive aphasia. Sometimes when I talked, the words sounded off. I blew it off for a year, thinking I was just getting older. Finally, when it happened among colleagues, they said, "I think you had a stroke." It wasn't a stroke. It was a brain tumor. Patients with cancer can help inform people who are at risk — which is all of us to some extent — about what to look for. Adding a patient's voice to a physician's voice about how to treat cancer helps convey the importance of World Cancer Day even more.
During your treatment, what moment stood out most emotionally or mentally, and what helped you cope when things felt overwhelming or uncertain?
Yeah, you're taking me deep into some moments, which is good. I've always been more logic-based. If you think about Star Trek, there's Spock and there's Kirk. Spock is very logical. My whole life, I've been more like Spock.
Then you become a patient and you're suddenly facing your own mortality. Between my surgery and the final pathology, which took three weeks, I didn't know if I was dying in 12 years or 12 months. I had no idea. That was a very intense time.
I remember watching my kids come into my bedroom to give me my medicine, knowing I might not see them beyond the next year. I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking about it. That reminded me that Kirk had a purpose too — letting emotion out and expressing it. If I tried to suppress it, it wouldn't be good for me physically or mentally.
That's why I enjoy talking with groups of patients with cancer and their families just as much as giving formal speeches. We were like brothers and sisters in the same room. I took off my tie as AMA president and spoke as a patient. It made me healthier, and I think we all walked out happier, regardless of our prognosis. Life is better when you share that perspective.
What challenges did you encounter that you didn't fully appreciate before, and what changes would you like to see to better support patients?
Access to care stands out the most. I live in Flint, Michigan, a pretty underserved community with more than 50% of residents on Medicaid. Yet I had access to the best neurosurgeons in the country within days. Most of my neighbors couldn't get even a fraction of that within a month.
Things like prior authorization, insurance referrals and delays for PET scans or MRIs are major problems. I'm on an IDH inhibitor that costs $900 a day. Even with insurance, we still had to deal with prior authorization. My wife was literally in tears trying to navigate the system. And if I have to deal with that — probably one of the most privileged doctors in the country right now — imagine what others face, especially people who are underserved or living in rural areas.
We also have a physician shortage. We need better access to high-quality care and enough well-trained specialists in every region. All of that has informed my ability to advocate. The AMA's goal is to promote the art and science of medicine and the betterment of public health, and that's what drives this work.
For someone newly diagnosed and facing the same fears you once had, what practical or emotional advice would you offer?
Before my diagnosis, I had a bad habit of sticking only to the facts in the exam room. I was disconnected from the emotional side. Now I understand how critical that emotional support is, especially for patients who come in alone.
Your health outcomes are statistically better if you have a positive mindset. Stress and mental health are huge parts of overall health. We need to acknowledge the emotional experience, not just the science. It's a big component that's underappreciated and under-taught. Both sides matter.
For people living with cervical and other gynecologic cancers, what message do you have about maintaining dignity and support?
This is where communication matters. We understand the science behind HPV and cervical cancer, and we know vaccination can help prevent it. But we also have to address social biases and talk about these issues in ways that resonate rather than polarize.
How we share information matters just as much as the information itself. You can present great science, but if it's not communicated in a relatable way, people won't hear it. Our job is to communicate with patients in ways they embrace and trust. That's how we truly support them.
Transcript has been edited for clarity and conciseness.
For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to




