Helen Moore remembers walking hand in hand with Colin Day on their wedding day, June 25, 2011, through Redwood National Park in California. His suit was too big; she wore her high school senior prom dress. They loved each other fully – in that quiet, steady way that makes everything else fade away.
They met through their mathematics studies at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill.
Just a month after the wedding, however, Day – 51, a veteran high school math teacher, an elite level cyclist, a professional ballet dancer and a yoga instructor – was diagnosed with Stage 4 gastric cancer. He died seven months later, on Feb. 26, 2012.
In her grief, Moore, now 59, decided that she would dedicate her life’s work to finding a cure for cancer. And that she would join those in her field who believe math is how it will happen.
Math models simulate how cancer grows and responds to treatment, helping researchers test therapies faster and more safely. They also allow for personalized treatments with fewer side effects. Moore uses these models to improve drug regimens, especially for cancer.
Moore discovered while as a lecturer at Stanford University that math can be used to find a cure for diseases and disorders like leukemia. That was 2006. Her work took on new meaning two years later, when her brother, Chuck Moore, was diagnosed with head and neck cancer. He underwent chemotherapy and radiation treatments, which she had studied clinically but now saw much more up close. The hair loss, tissue damage, the emotional strain.
Today, her brother is cancer free. Moore calls him “one of the lucky ones.”
And yet cancer remains a leading cause of death worldwide, with nearly 20 million new cases and 9.7 million deaths in 2022, according to the latest data from the National Cancer Institute.
In 2021, Moore returned to academia after working for bio-tech research companies for a few years, joining the University of Florida College of Medicine. She focuses on how diseases interact with the body’s immune system, how to verify disease model predictions and how to optimize drug combinations.
Moore also mentors nine students and one postdoctoral researcher, all of whom are working on optimizing drug regimens for disease treatment using mathematical modeling.
Julia Bruner, a second-year medical student, said she was drawn to Moore’s work after attending her presentation on pharmacokinetics.
“She brought an emotional and personal connection to science,” said Bruner, who now applies Moore’s teachings to her research on liver transplants. “She’s focused on how we can use the tools we already have to improve outcomes. For people waiting on treatments, that’s a huge deal, because we get to the answer faster than if we’re waiting on something new.”
Kyle Adams credited Moore with helping him to balance his role as a teaching assistant in UF’s math department with his master’s degree studies and research with her.
“She, as a mentor, is probably the best I could ask for,” Adams said. “Not only can I come to her with mathematical questions, but also when I’m stressed and need help outside the research environment.”
To hear Moore tell it, while math, medicine and meaning are all connected, it’s the people behind the numbers that matter the most.
Ten years after her husband’s death, Moore recalled their brief time of marriage in a LinkedIn post, encouraging others to donate to cancer research and cherish the simple joys in life.
“We don’t need to do everything; we just need to do something,” she wrote. “But especially, hug a loved one tight when you get the chance.”