Diagnosed With Rare Cancer, Honors Director Offers Lesson in Living Fully
by Lauren Brown | photos by John T. Consoli
At first, physicist Bill Dorland blamed the discomfort in his lower back on a bad trip down the Tiny Timbers ride at Hersheypark.
Now the executive director of Maryland’s Honors College, Dorland rode a figurative roller coaster for another five years as other symptoms piled up, everything from difficulty using the bathroom to searing pain when driving long distances.
Finally, in July 2004, he was getting an MRI when the technician, glancing at the screen, asked offhandedly how long he’d been following “this.” Dorland peered over, trying not to betray his panic, and asked if the bright blob was his liver.
“No,” she said. “That’s your tumor.”
This summer marks a decade since Dorland was diagnosed with chordoma, a rare and incurable form of cancer that typically kills its victims in seven to 10 years. In other words, Dorland, now 48, isn’t supposed to be alive today.
But he decided back then to proceed matter-of-factly like the scientist he is. Inquiry. Research. Analysis of data. His conclusion: He would keep living the life he already had.

Dorland talks about his leg and foot pain with Dr. Christopher Heery, a National Cancer Institute staff clinician running a research trial at the National Institutes of Health Clinical Center. “This is the safe place to complain,” another of his doctors, Harpreet Singh, had told him.
Now, he’s undergoing a clinical trial that has remarkably shrunk his most recent two tumors. The tradeoff: an inexplicable, devastating case of neuropathy in his feet that has forced him to start relying on a cane.
And while he’s mostly kept quiet about a decade of real-life drama, he volunteered to teach the opening class of a new “Deconstructing ‘Breaking Bad’” honors course by sharing his story with students. While a rotating cast of faculty led discussions such as whether entrepreneurship is always good, or the economics of the drug trade, Dorland’s topic was how a universal health care system could have changed the TV series.
“As a meditation on whether we can control our lives to any extent, it’s a fantastic show,” he says later. “In season 4, episode three or four, Walt says to another cancer patient who’s worried about being tossed in the wind, Bull****, everybody dies. You get to decide how you live.”
STAR OF SOMETHING NEW
From the start, Dorland was an independent thinker, an overachieving crusader. He and his mother moved in their trailer 16 times by the time they settled in rural Arkansas when he was in fourth grade. His dad, he says easily, is a nudist who lives off the grid with llamas outside his trailer, and raccoons and ducks cavorting around inside. His parents married more than a dozen times, and he has had more step- and half-siblings than he can count. As a result of all that, he read a lot and learned to make friends fast.
He spent a high school summer in Japan, so he was surprised upon his arrival at the University of Texas, with an enrollment of 51,000, that only eight students a year were studying abroad for credit through the institution. He and a friend mounted a campaign to expand scholarship funding to encourage UT students to study overseas and international students to come to Texas. The new student fee ultimately passed the state legislature (a year after Dorland graduated as UT’s top male student) and spread to the entire Texas university system.
His appetite for public service whetted, he told Princeton University that he would only pursue his doctorate in astrophysics there if he could simultaneously earn a master’s in public administration. He finished both in five years.
Dorland focused his research on turbulent, magnetized plasmas, which means he tries to predict the properties of matter when it gets heated to temperatures of 100 million degrees. During an internship on nuclear policy at the U.S. Department of State, he got interested in the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor (ITER) project, designed to generate power on a huge scale. Later, through computer modeling, he and three colleagues at Texas and Princeton discovered flaws in the engineering design, the equivalent of throwing a Molotov cocktail into the nuclear fusion community.
Their findings, which appeared first in Science, reached a broad public in the New York Times in December 1996. The National Academy of Sciences called for a review, and the U.S. ultimately pulled out of the $10 billion project.
Dorland joined Maryland’s faculty in 2001. Professor Jordan Goodman, then-chair of the physics department, hired him as a full-time faculty member a few years later. He wasn’t looking to hire anyone in Dorland’s specialty field, but, he recalls, “We saw Bill, and we said, This guy is sensational. Crap, we have no choice but to hire him.”
The Department of Energy honored Dorland in 2009 for the body of research that began with ITER. By that time, he needed the cash prize that came with the award.
CRITICAL MASS
Dorland’s resume was irrelevant to doctors. When in the late 1990s he began suffering from constipation, doctors told him to change his diet and get more rest. His daughter, Kendall, was born in 1997, and doctors attributed his pain to lifting her improperly.

Dorland leads a meeting of faculty, postdocs, graduate students and undergraduates interested in plasma turbulence. Besides running the Honors College, Dorland has continued to advance research and mentor doctoral students in this field.
“As a physicist who knows about force and levers, I was pretty annoyed,” he says.
The MRI in 2004 changed all that. By the end of the day he was at Johns Hopkins Hospital, where a nurse took Dorland’s scans to Dr. Ziya Gokaslan, vice chairman of neurosurgery. The nurse popped back 10 minutes later with the news that Dorland had chordoma.
Dorland, ever the optimist, recalls his relief at finally having an authoritative diagnosis—but it was a bleak one. Only one person in 2 million has chordoma, a form of cancer that occurs along the spine. There is no cure—after treatment, more tumors just grow back.
Gokaslan, the nation’s foremost expert on this disease, said Dorland’s tumor, along with four vertebrae and his coccyx, needed to be removed right away. He asked for four weeks to assemble the seven-surgeon team—and for $50,000 up front to pay for the operation, which Dorland’s health insurer had deemed “experimental.”
(Dorland can’t help but feel a connection to “Breaking Bad’s” antihero, Walter White, who transformed from mild chemistry teacher to drug kingpin after being diagnosed with terminal cancer that required a costly surgery.)
Dorland quickly sought a second opinion, and a loan—he and his wife, Sarah Penniston-Dorland, now an associate professor of geology at Maryland, could scrape together only $15,000 on such short notice. An aunt said not to worry, that a distant family member he’d never met could take care of the rest. He soon discovered via online sleuthing that this man was defending himself against multiple federal criminal charges.
Maybe, he wondered, he should refuse a loan from such a person. But maybe such principled stances aren’t for people whose lives are at stake.
The man generously sent all $50,000, which the Dorlands later repaid.
CARRY ON
The surgery was a success, though definitions of “success” with cancer tend to change. While the rest of us might mind having a three-inch scar on our chin caused by lying facedown for a 12-hour operation, Dorland brushed it off as a “dimple.” Simultaneous vomiting and fainting as he stood for the first time post-op? Sarah can smile about that now. Permanent incontinence, however, was not so easily dismissed.
Thus, Dorland’s famous backpack. As head of the Honors College, home to 4,200 of the university’s brightest undergraduates, Dorland is an administrator as well as a faculty member, mentor and researcher. He’s a big shot. But he often wears Hawaiian shirts or tees and loose-fitting khakis instead of a suit, and he always carries a black Under Armour backpack rather than a briefcase.
The common explanation on campus is that Dorland is exceptionally approachable. That’s true. It’s also true that he requires urinary catheters, colostomy supplies and more. The “accoutrements,” as he calls them, fill the backpack.
“A backpack blends right in on a college campus,” he says. “I do put my laptop in there so people can think it’s just for work.”
His uncertain future also made him much more reflective. Go to Disney World? Get a new car? he recalls half-jokingly.
“I had every excuse to live large,” he says. “But I was happy with my life, and I didn’t want to change anything.”
The exception: A close Maryland colleague suggested that without mobility and continence, Dorland would belong in a nursing home. Dorland then promised himself this: He would from that point on work closely only with people he likes. Which he does. But it made him reticent to talk about his struggles or miss work. Through seven surgeries and treatments over the years, Dorland estimates he’s taken off a total of six weeks.
At Honors, which he’s led since 2008, he’s barreled ahead, launching four additional living and learning programs, doubling the size of the faculty, adding dozens of creative new classes, and cultivating a culture of intellectual engagement as well as a stronger sense of community. Meanwhile, he’s published another 35 physics papers, supervised scores of Honors 100 courses, and advised several doctoral students at Maryland and Oxford University, where he’s a visiting professor.
“At the end of a long day, Bill is still sitting at a table with his graduate students,” says Cathy Barks, associate director of the Honors College. “He always puts a good face on what must be incredibly painful, physically and emotionally.
“The way Bill copes makes it much easier for the rest of us to cope. It’s an incredible gift.”
INTO UNKNOWN TERRITORY
Dorland hates references to people “fighting” cancer because, he says, that implies that succumbing to the disease means they didn’t fight hard enough. Nobody can accuse him of that.
An MRI in 2005 found several more tumors, and another surgery followed, to remove them and rearrange his gastrointestinal tract. The following year, he underwent a bombardment of high-dose radiation therapy at Massachusetts General Hospital, commuting back and forth to his Catonsville, Md., home and campus, and to conferences around the country.
Dorland, whose career is based on quantifying uncertainty, had to learn to live with total uncertainty. He managed the disease for a few years, with another golf ball-size tumor taken out in 2009. Sarah compared the scars on his backside to a right-lateral slip fault. Geologist humor.

Dorland, flanked by his wife Sarah and daughter Kendall, traveled to Morocco last summer to camp in the desert and ride on camels. Despite his disease, the family also counts recent trips to Catalina Island, Hawaii and Italy.
But in 2012 two new tumors were deemed inoperable because of their hard-to-reach positions around his spine. Worse, they couldn’t be irradiated, because he’d previously received the maximum amount permitted.
“This is where we were getting really worried,” Sarah says. “Nobody wanted to treat them.”
He, Sarah and Kendall started family medical crisis counseling sessions. He wrote the 36 students running Honors 100 classes with him to reveal for the first time he had cancer.
The physics department took up a collection for his expenses in New York. His students made him a card that portrayed him as Superman. Hundreds of Honors students participated in a 5K run to fund research for rare diseases. These gestures lifted his spirits immeasurably.
“At every moment,” he says, “someone was there for me.”
That November, Dorland became only the fourth person to enroll in an experimental trial at Hopkins using injections of bacteria in hopes that they would start fighting the tumors (“sort of like ‘War of the Worlds’ crossed with ‘Alien,’” he told Facebook friends). In March 2013, at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York City, he was the ninth person to undergo six rounds of a super-targeted radiation treatment that relied on “temporary organ displacement.” In other words, before a beam delivered high-dose radiation to the tumors, doctors moved nearby organs out of the way to ensure they didn’t get zapped, too.
The radiation still wrecked his digestive system, though, and he was hospitalized for another week last May.
Dorland is now in a third clinical trial, this one for patients with all kinds of cancers, at the National Institutes of Health Clinical Center in Bethesda, Md., again getting immune therapy injections. His tumors have shrunk a remarkable 30 percent, says Dr. Christopher Heery, the National Cancer Institute staff clinician who is running the study. (By volume, the tumors are only one-third of their largest size.) Dorland is the only person with such results.
It’s raised the question of whether the combination of radiation and the cancer vaccine might be the answer. Heery and the Chordoma Foundation, which Dorland helped launch (see sidebar, below), are starting to plan a new trial that mimics his radiation-immunotherapy pairing.
“The amount of tumor shrinkage is impressive—whether it was from the vaccine or not,” Heery says. “It would be unusual for this to happen with radiation alone.”
Meanwhile, Dorland, Sarah and Kendall went to Morocco last summer, after he taught at Oxford again. Kendall is about to go off to college. The empty nesters are thinking of moving closer to campus and considering an apartment with an elevator for Bill.
The excruciating pain in his heels, a side effect of who-knows-which treatment, prompted doctors to approve handicapped parking for him. It took him two more months, and two falls on campus, to acknowledge he needed it, and the cane. Now he’s fending off recommendations that he consider a wheelchair.
Instead, Dorland keeps walking, gingerly. In the “Breaking Bad” class, he’s the first one up to get the lights whenever it’s time to show a clip. And when the class ends, he still smiles as he talks to students, his backpack slung over his arm. TERP
A FOUNDATION FOR A CURE

29 Comments
Bill, you have been strength and inspiration for our family. My brother, Mike, has spoken fondly of you. You and your family are in my prayers.
“This guy’s sensational.” Agreed. I’m glad to learn more details of your early and latest life experiences. The connection between your novel and committed approach to everything and what you create is very clear, and energizing. Thanks for the opportunity to contribute to this work in a meaningful way. My love to you, Stewie, Spud and Kendall.
Bill, you are an amazing man. I am so glad to have worked with you and to know you. Wishing you all the best.
I deem it a true honor to say that Bill was in one of my math classes at Texas High. I am sure that I did not teach him anything. He was so very intelligent and a pleasure to know. What a wonderful, inspiring story and I pray that God will continue to bless him and all those with whom he comes in contact.
Bill, you are an amazing person. I meant it when I told you about that special dream that I had…you personify for me what is important for a person to possess…you have it all! Gerry
Bill, thank you for sharing your story. You are a gift to all of us who work with you. We will never really know becuz you show up and show out every day. I am sure that Sarah and Kendall are your strength. You have a beautifully sweet family. And by the way, you are living large; you are larger than life for us. You carry your things with grace.
Bill reminds us that there “supermen and heroes” who walk among us everyday unrecognized and comfortable with their invisible superhero presence. Bill is certainly one these unseen supermen who make lives better for countless people while carrying a person burden that many would simply sink under. Thanks for share with us, it is an inspiration and up-lifting. I just wish you were not so damn smart, it make the rest of us feel dumb, -but maybe that is a good thing- Spencer
I have been lucky enough to have met Bill a number of times through the Charisma Foundation. He is an inspirational man and never stops fight ot educating. Thank you Bill!!!
Bill, attending grade school with you as we grew into young adults heading off to college to follow our life journey, you have always been the bright light of a humble, highly intelligent and personable person of courage, character and strength. You have overcome many challenges in life and continue to live your life with grace and humility. Stay encouraged and make every day count as you have always done. I pray for miracles to continue in your life and for your family. Your genius is a gift…anyone who has ever known you even for a few minutes sees your genius. I’m proud of your preserverance and accomplishments. What a remarkable article about you that I’m so glad I got the chance to read. God bless you and your family.
What an incredible story. Bill you are an inspiration and a reality check for all of us who complain about the “problems” of our life. Reading your story this morning has inspired me to live life to the fullest. We hope you continue to respond to the treatments you are receiving. Our family wishes you continued blessings.
Way to go, son–I am, as always, so proud of you and yours.
Hi, Ms. D. Hope you are well.
Bill, you and your family are an amazing asset to the Maryland community. Wishing you nothing but more good news with your treatments!!
I was very fortunate to work under Dr. Dorland as a research assistant. He is truly a remarkable person and amazing professor to work with. Wish him all the best for everything.
Being in high school with you was enlightening, but this….wow. We in school always knew your genius would take you places beyond where the rest of us could possibly go. Your response to your cancer experience shows a side to you I never knew and wish I had. Sarah and Kendall are so lucky to have you in their lives. You are amazing and I truly hope you live many more years. Hugs to you and your family, Bill.
Bill, I can see that you have not changed one bit from when we went to Texas High together. Remember you and some of the other guys always playing “eat’em up” from the roof during pep rallies in the pit (I have often thought how in the world the principals ever let you guys on the roof). I will continue to pray for you and your family, that you may continue your amazing life. What a testament you are for having a life purpose to raise awareness of this disease. I lost my dad to lung cancer in 2005 and give all my volunteer efforts to Relay for Life to raise funds for cancer research and a cure. I hope you are the first “cure” patient from these wonderful clinical trials you are in.
Letha Smith Colquitt RN, MNSc, FNP-BC
THS Class of 85′
Bill,
Great story, discipline and perseverance. Congratulations, and thanks again for the many life lessons you continue to offer.
The benefit of spending ones formative years in a ” highly mobile” household – one welcoming both foreign exchange students and new ideas, even in provincial settings in some instances – coupled of course with a great deal of curiosity and intelligence, cannot be underestimated.
Our best wishes,
Bill Adams
I am privileged to have known Bill Dorland as a fellow CCX debater and student at Texas Senior High School in Texarkana, Texas, where his incisive mind and charismatic style made him (along with his partner, Robert Wood) the powerhouse of UIL Debate in 1982-83. I have quietly followed his career over the years, reacting with happiness but without surprise as he achieved the same success in scientific research as he did in forensic research.
I have no doubt he will continue to succeed at everything he does.
がんばって、ドーランド博士。
Hi Professor,
I am a grad student at UMD and it was truly inspiring reading about you, and the lessons in perseverance you continue to give the students. As the daughter of a brave man who also continued to do what he loved doing, and ensured that life was as normal for us as possible inspite of his cancer diagnosis, I think it was the best thing he ever taught me. I wish you and your family all the best. I’ll have you in my prayers.
Hi Bill! I too am a rare cancer survivor and I am so inspired by all that you are giving back to the body of research to cure chordoma. I have the BRCA-1 gene mutation and have survived two episodes so far in 2003 & 2007. Thank you for all of your efforts – and I understand Walter White as well. The financial consequences of cancer are as insidious as the tumors. Sending prayers your way!
I encourage the people at Maryland who view Bill as a serious intellectual to ask him about the practical jokes we used to play in high school.
Hang in there, Bill.
Dear Bill,
It’s been a long time since our collaboration on “Social Chairing” at PU’s Grad College. I knew you were special then, but little did I suspect that the word “special” hardly does justice to the man, the scientist, and the leader you have become. My father had chronic disease, but because we lived in Canada, his treatment did not send us into poverty or bankruptcy. His kidney transplant cost nothing, and even the expensive drug regimen he needed for the next 17 years was manageable because of universal health care coverage. Your courage is inspiring, and one can only hope it inspires more people to see that caring for everyone (including our best and brightest) is a smart investment. We cannot afford to lose the energy and generosity, not to mention the contributions, of people like you, simply because insurance companies count beans and hire good lawyers (while paying their CEOs astronomical salaries) deny their subscribers proper treatment. My father never gave up giving back to his community, even after he went blind, among other nasty consequences of his diabetes. It seems you have a similar philosophy, and for that, I admire you, and am really proud to say I knew you when. You and yours are in my thoughts and prayers. Keep on living to the fullest!
Bill
Many at Texas High learned from ya. Maths, stats or even Texan…Tks. We try do same. Love
Jose
Hi Bill,
From the moment I met you, there was something special about you. You are such a loving and kind person. It was a pleasure working with you in the CSCAMM department – I still have the Al Green cd that you gave me. I remember the good time that my husband and I had at your home at one of your Christmas parties. You are truly an inspiration. I admire you – you are living large – and helping so many other people! I pray that the Lord continues to grant you favor with all of the medical trials that you go through. You are so special – Wow, can’t believe Kendall is about to go to college – I don’t have to tell you but I know that Sarah and Kendall are so very proud of you – I will keep you and your family in my prayers…with love, Cynthia Gray
Wow, that’s an inspirational story. Go Bill!
Update: The expensive backpack I was carrying in 2014 was unfortunately poorly made. It fell apart within a few weeks of this article, so I got a new one from REI: much higher quality! Also, I’m the kind of person who likes to think, think, think, think.
Go Terps!
Congratulations on maintaining your life and lifestyle so well for so long. Only one question: Why are you resisting the use of a wheelchair? Speaking as one who uses a chair for mobility, when my back-and-knee pain is too severe, I think you’ll find the freedom of using the chair to be wonderful! You’ll be able to go more places and do much more, when not coping with the exhaustion caused by living with chronic, severe pain. Try it for a little while. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised to see and feel the difference – especially at the end of the day, when you are probably totally done-in. You’ll get a lot more out of your life if you don’t waste any of your precious store of strength and energy on just getting around!
Best regards,