Who is David B Katague in FDA?

This posting is triggered by a question, I was asked by a New THD resident during our meal time conversation just recently. I titled it, The Names We Do Not Hear- Who is David B Katague in FDA? 

My FDA Fellow Scientists and Colleagues, Rockville, MD, 1990. From L to R: Ernie Pappas, M.S.,  Suva Roy, Ph.D and David B Katague, Ph.D (me) 

There are names that echo across history, spoken on television, printed in bold headlines, remembered in public squares.

And then there are names like David B. Katague.

A name that does not shout. A name that does not seek the spotlight. A name that, quietly and faithfully, does its work.

In the vast machinery of the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, where decisions ripple out to millions of lives, David B. Katague served not as a public figure, but as something perhaps more enduring, a scientist entrusted with responsibility. A first-line supervisor, not a public figure. 

A Chemistry Team Leader in the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research.

It sounds clinical. Almost sterile. But behind those words lies a human story, one of discipline, precision, and a kind of silent guardianship.

I often think about the unseen hands that shape our lives.

When we take an antibiotic, when a treatment works as expected, when a medication does what it promises, we rarely pause to ask:

Who made sure this was safe? Not the executives. Not the politicians. But individuals like Katague.

People who read through pages of data most of us would never understand.
People who question, verify, challenge. People who sign their names not for recognition, but for accountability.

There is something deeply humbling about that signature.

A name written at the bottom of a document that says, in essence:

This is safe enough for the public.

Think about that for a moment. The weight of that decision. The quiet courage it takes.

The discipline to remain invisible in a world that often rewards visibility above all else.

As I reflect on my own journey, through years of public service, through moments that placed me close to history, through a life now measured more in reflection than ambition, I find myself drawn more and more to these quieter stories.

Because in the end, most of us will not be remembered for grand gestures.

We will be remembered, if at all, for the integrity of our work. For the way we showed up.

For the responsibilities we carried when no one was watching.

The Katague name, as I’ve come to understand it, stretches across continents from the provinces of the Philippines to communities in America, Australia, and New Zealand.

In some places, it carries public recognition. In others, it blends into the fabric of everyday life.

But in this particular story, in the life of David B. Katague, it represents something universal:

The dignity of doing one’s job well. The quiet honor of contributing to something larger than oneself. The unseen legacy of care.

There is a kind of poetry in that. Not the poetry of grand speeches or celebrated achievements, but the poetry of consistency. Of showing up, day after day, and doing work that matters.

As I write this, I cannot help but think of the many individuals I have encountered in my own life, colleagues, professionals, public servants whose names will never be widely known, yet whose impact is immeasurable.

Perhaps that is the real story worth telling. Not just of David B. Katague, but of all those who live lives of quiet consequence.

In a world that often asks, “Who is famous?” Maybe we should ask instead,

“Who is faithful?” Because long after the headlines fade, it is the faithful who have been holding the world together all along.

Meanwhile, here's the AI Overview:

There is a real record of David B. Katague connected to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA), but he is not a public-facing or widely profiled official like an FDA commissioner or political appointee. Instead, he appears to have been a career scientist within the agency, working behind the scenes in drug evaluation.

🧪 His Role at the FDA

Based on official FDA documents:

• David B. Katague, Ph.D.
• Served as a Chemistry Team Leader
• Worked in the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research (CDER)
• Specifically in the Division of Anti-Infective Drug Products

His name appears on multiple FDA approval letters and regulatory documents in the late 1990s–early 2000s, where he:

• Reviewed new drug applications (NDAs)
• Oversaw chemistry and manufacturing quality
• Signed off on approvals for drugs like antibiotics (e.g., Augmentin) 

This places him in a key scientific gatekeeping role, ensuring medications met FDA standards for safety, quality, and consistency before reaching the public.

🧬 What His Job Actually Meant

As a Chemistry Team Leader, his responsibilities likely included:

• Evaluating drug composition and stability
• Reviewing manufacturing processes
• Leading teams of FDA chemists
• Advising on whether a drug should be approved, modified, or rejected

This is highly technical, rigorous work, not visible to the public, but absolutely essential to modern medicine.

📍 Career Context

• Active in FDA records roughly 1990s to early 2000s
• Part of the internal scientific workforce rather than leadership
• His signature on documents indicates senior-level responsibility, not entry-level work

Some secondary sources suggest:

• Background in pharmaceutical chemistry
• Prior work in private industry before joining the FDA
• Filipino-American heritage (consistent with the Katague name’s origins)

🌎 Why He Matters (Even If He’s Not Famous)

People like David B. Katague represent a category that rarely gets attention:

The career scientists who quietly determine whether drugs are safe enough for millions of people.

Every FDA-approved medication passes through individuals like him. While names like
David A. Kessler become publicly known, the scientific backbone of the FDA is made up of professionals like Katague.

✍️  Reflection 

There’s something quietly powerful about a name that doesn’t make headlines.

David B. Katague’s story, what little we can see of it, is not one of spotlight or speeches, but of signatures at the bottom of documents that changed lives. Antibiotics approved. Treatments validated. Standards upheld.

No applause. No recognition. Just trust. And perhaps that is the deeper thread connecting the Katague name across continents from Iloilo, Negros Occidental, Philippines to America, to Australia, New Zealand, UK  and beyond:

Not always visible. But always present. Doing the work that matters.

Finally, my Photo of the Day:  Surface of the Moon taken by Artemis II Crew 

Love is Patient, Love is Kind.....

This posting is inspired from several positive comments I received from my recent posting on Macrine (RIP) would have been 90th Birthday ( 3-26-26)

Love Is Patient, Love Is Kind: Lessons From a Long Life

“Love is patient, love is kind.” Many people hear these words only at weddings, as if they belong solely to young couples at the beginning of their story. I hear them now, approaching my 92nd birthday, as a summary of a life lived through marriage, migration, caregiving, illness, and the quiet routines of an active-senior community.

For me, patience and kindness are no longer abstract virtues; they are muscle and memory. They were there when my late wife, Macrine, decided to pursue nursing at forty, after raising our four children, starting at the hospital bedside and later serving as a visiting home-health nurse and head of Quality Assurance in Maryland. They were there when we left the Philippines and built a new life in the United States, joining the countless Filipinos whose journeys form part of the global diaspora of caregivers and professionals.

Love Does Not Envy, It Does Not Boast

“Love does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” In a world that measures success by titles, followers, and bank accounts, these lines feel almost countercultural. My own path, from the Philippines to a professional life that included work at the FDA, and now to my days of bridge, mahjong, and blogging has taught me that real achievement is quieter than most people think.

I saw this most clearly in Macrine’s nursing career. She did not envy younger nurses or boast about late promotions. She began her profession at an age when many are slowing down, but she simply focused on doing the work caring for patients in their homes, checking charts, and later safeguarding standards as a quality assurance leader. There were no billboards or headlines, only grateful patients, colleagues, and a family who saw, day after day, what love without envy or pride looks like in practical form.

As I age, I find that the things I once might have boasted about matter less. At ninety-one plus, no one is impressed by how fast you walk or how many projects you juggle. They are more interested in whether you listen, whether you show up, and whether you can still offer a smile even on days when your kidneys ache and your legs remind you of every mile you have traveled.

Love Is Not Easily Angered

“Love is not easily angered.” That line has grown on me with time. When you live alone but not lonely, you have a lot of time to think about losses, about misunderstandings, about all the little ways life could have turned out differently. It would be easy to become bitter about aging, illness, or the inevitable frustrations of the healthcare system that I know both as a patient and as someone who spent a career inside it.

Yet I have learned that love, in this stage of life, often takes the shape of gentleness. Gentleness with the nurses who are overworked, the doctors running behind schedule, the staff at my community who have their own family worries at home. Gentleness with friends who repeat the same story for the third time at the card table. And perhaps most of all, gentleness with myself, when I cannot move as quickly or do as much as I used to.

I think of the Filipino nurses I have written about, spread across the world, working long shifts in hospitals and home health agencies, including the one my wife once helped lead. Their patience in the face of difficult patients, complicated families, and exhausting schedules is a living commentary on this verse. They remind me that not being “easily angered” is less about personality and more about purpose: when you know you are there to heal, you choose calm over outrage, understanding over accusation.

Love Keeps No Record

“Love keeps no record.” That may be the hardest line of all. As a daily blogger, I literally keep records: of my thoughts, activities, memories, and reflections, shared with readers around the world. But the record-keeping that this verse warns against is different, it speaks of grudges, of scorecards in relationships, of bitterness carefully preserved like old letters in a drawer.

Over a long marriage of 63 years, believe me, there were plenty of opportunities to keep score. Who sacrificed more? Who was right in old arguments? Who carried the heavier load when raising children or managing the household while the other pursued career goals? In our case, any honest tally would show that Macrine gave more than her share, working as a nurse, a mother, and a quiet anchor of the home. Macrine was the Disciplinarian and I acted as the good guy. 

But love, I have learned, is not an accounting system. As I look back now, widowed for six years, what remains is not a ledger of rights and wrongs but a collage of ordinary days: shared meals, late-night conversations, her stories from home health visits, the pride in her eyes when our children succeeded, the quiet comfort of knowing that, whatever happened, we faced it together. The disagreements have faded; the affection remains. That is what it means, I think, to keep no record.

Living the Verse in an Active-Senior Community

Today, I practice these words in smaller, slower ways. I walk slowly around the THD compound of my active-senior community, greet neighbors, and sit down at the bridge or mahjong table to keep my mind sharp. I manage Stage 4 chronic kidney disease with the help of doctors, nurses, and my own determination to keep moving, even when my legs protest. I even abstain from alcohol and sweets. 

Love, in this season, looks like patience with my body’s limits, kindness to the people who help me navigate them, and a deliberate choice not to dwell on what I have lost but on what I still have, time, memories, community, and the ability to write. Each blog post is a small act of hope, a message to readers across the globe that life after loss, aging, and illness can still be rich with meaning.

“Love is patient, love is kind” is no longer just a verse for weddings to me. It is a daily practice: in the way I remember my wife with gratitude, not regret; in the way I honor the global story of Filipino nurses through her example; and in the way I greet each new day with as much grace, humor, and gentleness as I can muster. At nearly 92, I am still learning that love is less about grand gestures and more about how we treat each other and ourselves-one ordinary day at a time.

Meanwhile, here's the  AI Overview

"Love is patient, love is kind" (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) defines love as an active, enduring choice rather than just a feeling, emphasizing long-term commitment, humility, and kindness

. Lessons from this, often viewed as a guide for a long life, include enduring hardships without resentment, serving others selflessly, and prioritizing compassion over winning arguments. 

Key Lessons on Love's Endurance:

• Active Endurance (Long-suffering): Patience means actively enduring injuries or difficult situations without being easily angered or seeking revenge.
• Active Kindness: Kindness involves proactively doing good, serving others, and showing compassion, rather than just being passive.
• Choice Over Emotion: Love is a daily decision to be humble and gentle, not just a fleeting emotion.
• No Record of Wrongs: A lasting, loving life requires letting go of grudges and not keeping track of faults.
• Selfless Attitude: Love is not selfish, boastful, or proud, but instead protects and trusts. 

These principles emphasize that a loving life requires intentional, daily, and often challenging, actions of kindness and patience.

Lastly, here are the benefits of my weekly whole body massage therapy:  

Relaxation and stress relief: Massage helps reduce muscle tension, promoting relaxation and calming the mind.
Pain relief: Massage can alleviate pain caused by muscle strain, cramps, or injuries by increasing blood flow and reducing inflammation.
Improved circulation: Massage helps improve blood flow, which can aid in the delivery of oxygen and nutrients to muscles, promoting healthy tissue repair.
Reduced muscle soreness: Post-exercise massage can help reduce muscle soreness and improve recovery time.
Enhanced flexibility and range of motion: Regular massage can help increase flexibility and range of motion by breaking down adhesions and scar tissue.
Improved lymphatic function: Massage can help stimulate the lymphatic system, promoting the removal of toxins and waste products.

Thank you, Indy! Your services are no longer a luxury but a necessity.