Celebrating World Lung Cancer Day

Today I celebrate World Lung Cancer Day.

Lung cancer claims more lives than any other cancer. According to the American Cancer Society, each year, more people die of lung cancer than of colon, breast, and prostate cancers combined. Yet the survival rate and funding dollars per death are lower for lung cancer than for those cancers (and almost all other cancers). The CDC lists lung cancer (not breast cancer) as the leading cause of cancer death among women.

Lung cancer deserves more research funding. Anyone who has lungs can get lung cancer. About 60% of newly-diagnosed lung cancer patients are non-smokers or never smokers, and lung cancer in never-smokers ranks among the top 10 fatal cancers in the USA. And, regardless of one’s habits or behaviors, NO ONE deserves to die of lung cancer.

Already more metastatic lung cancer patients like me are living longer thanks to targeted therapies, maintenance chemo, and changes in standard of care. Lung cancer statistics will continue to improve as more patients start to benefit from upcoming early detection methods (like CT screenings and biomarker testing), improvements in treatment options, and an increased national focus on lung cancer research.

Here’s hoping for more successful treatment options for all lung cancer patients, and a cure in my lifetime — which means SOON.

LUNGevity announces its 2013 Research Awards

I received the information below in a news release email from LUNGevity today. It’s encouraging to see the research undertaken for lung cancer patients, especially research related to the KRAS mutation (for which few therapies currently exist), lung cancer resistant to radiation therapy, and acquired resistance to targeted therapies (like Tarceva).

————————

LUNGevity is proud to announce our 2013 Research Awards!

New LUNGevity awards are enabling promising research into managing lung cancer treatment more effectively, as well as preventing the disease in high-risk populations.

Six exceptional researchers have received 2013 LUNGevity Lung Cancer Research Awards. They join a community of brilliant LUNGevity-funded scientists across the country who are working to help people with lung cancer live longer and better.

 

2013 Career Development Awards for Translational Research were made to the following researchers.

Timothy Burns, MD, PhD, University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute, is working on targeted therapy for non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) patients with mutations in a gene called KRAS, using a new class of drugs.

David Kozono, MD, PhD, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, will identify which genetic types of lung cancer are the most resistant to radiation, and which of these may be best treated with a combination of radiation and bortezomib, a drug already FDA-approved for another type of cancer.

Meredith Tennis, PhD, University of Colorado Denver, will identify biomarkers that signal whether a patient is likely to benefit from iloprost and pioglitazone, two drugs that have demonstrated promise in reducing NSCLC risk, and whether they work in a clinical trial setting.

 

2013 Targeted Therapeutics Awards for Translational Research were made to the following researchers.

Balazs Halmos, MD, Columbia University Medical Center, is working on a way to increase the effectiveness of radiation and chemotherapy that could also lead to personalized NSCLC treatments, especially for the third of all lung cancer patients with locally advanced lung cancer.

Lecia V. Sequist, MD, Massachusetts General Hospital, will develop models that explain how NSCLC patients can acquire drug resistance to targeted therapies after a period of initial successful treatment, leading to the development of new treatments to help patient overcome the drug resistance.

Frank J. Slack, PhD, Yale University, is studying the KRAS-variant, a recently discovered KRAS mutation found in over 20% of NSCLC patients, which has been shown to predict a patient’s response to cancer treatment. His research aims to confirm the role of the KRAS-variant to direct cancer therapy for lung cancer patients and as a potential future target for therapy.

 

The work of these talented researchers will help ensure continued progress in fighting lung cancer. Special thanks to Genentech and our other donors for their support of the LUNGevity Scientific Research Awards Program. Read more about these exciting projects. In addition to these awards, LUNGevity will announce funding for awards through its Early Detection Awards Program later this year. Please stay tuned!

Death and the Cost of Immortality

Western culture is obsessed with avoiding death. For many, it is a terrifying concept.

Yet death is a natural part of the cycle of life throughout the universe. When plants, animals, mountains, planets, solar systems, and galaxies die, their components are released and transition to become essential components of other lives. If stars had not completed their cycle and died violent deaths, the elements necessary for life elsewhere would not have been created.

Some today seek immortality through plastic surgery, elixirs, and cloning. Others imagine a future with cryogenic preservation, or uploads to new organic or inorganic bodies. All of these options consume significant resources. In most cases, the technology is (or would be) affordable only by the upper levels of society.

Speaking as one who is consuming more than my fair share of resources to survive cancer, I wonder whether I’m giving back more than I’m taking from Earth’s resource pool. I’m not afraid to transition to the next stage of existence, whatever it may be, but my autistic son isn’t ready for me to leave him yet.

If people wish to love well and experience life to the fullest by means of a healthy lifestyle, more power to them. However, when we start seeking to extend life with artificial means, I wonder if perhaps we’re being selfish. Might those resources be better applied towards ensuring good water, food, and health are available for present and future generations?

How Much Do CT Scans Increase the Risk of Cancer?

This is the title of a great article published today by Scientific American about risks of developing future cancers from CT scans. Since cancer patients get frequent CT scans, this subject comes up frequently among lung cancer survivors. I learned some key facts:

(1) Estimates of cancer risk have until recently been based on “cancer rates among the long-term survivors of the atomic bomb blasts in World War II,” a data set that doesn’t really mesh with the radiation exposure generated by CT scans. About a dozen studies worldwide are now looking at cancer rates in patients who’ve had CT scans.

(2) The amount of radiation exposure generated by a CT scan is not regulated by the FDA in the US. Some centers use higher levels of radiation than others. Last year the American Association of Physicists in Medicine published standards for CT procedures and doses. Also, as of 2012, facilities that accept Medicare Part B must be accredited by the American College of Radiology and follow their dosage guidelines if they want to get reimbursed.

(3) Radiologists Sarabjeet Singh and Mannudeep Kalra “discovered that they can diagnose certain abnormal growths in the lungs and perform routine chest exams with about 75 percent less radiation than usual.” Massachusetts General Hospital has adopted this approach, and the researchers are sharing their methods around the globe.

From now on, I’m going to be sure any facility that scans me has American College of Radiology accreditation, and I’ll ask if they’re aware of Singh and Kalra’s work.

Insuring the Terminal Patient

When I returned home from my recent road trip, a letter from Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois (my health insurance company, also known as BCBSIL) was waiting for me. Even though I already knew they denied my appeal for last September’s biopsy, I was amazed at how quickly I transitioned from tired but happy traveler to enraged cancer patient.

The upshot of their message was this:

“You already have metastatic lung cancer. A biopsy won’t change the fact that you’re going to die from cancer.”

The statement probably came from the independent “physician who specializes in Internal Medicine/Pulmonary Disease” who reviewed my appeal. You can judge for yourself whether I’m overreacting from this excerpt. I bolded some words for emphasis.

” … in this case the member is already known to have progressive Stage IV Bronchogenic carcinoma even after therapy. Specifically identifying the histopathology of this right upper lobe lesion is not going to affect long-term health outcomes.”

Boy, do I feel special.

A Bit of Background

Up till now, I really couldn’t complain about my insurance coverage. I’m fortunate enough to have Boeing Traditional Retiree medical insurance through my husband, and it’s paid for almost everything related to my cancer diagnosis and treatment (except for 10 cents of each carbo-taxol chemotherapy — go figure). I thought I had the gold standard of enlightened coverage.

After my first recurrence of cancer, which gave me my stage IV determination in October 2011, a large ugly tumor grew fast above my right collarbone. It was 3 inches long after about 2 months. In January 2012 I started second line chemo — 6 rounds of Alimta-Avastin which shrunk the tumor almost 90% — followed by radiation.

Six weeks after this second line treatment, a PET-CT scan showed the little sucker was dead. However, two new nodules had formed in my formerly-clear right lung. The nodules glowed hot enough on the PET scan to make them highly suspicious for cancer, but only a biopsy could determine whether the nodules were cancer, radiation pneumonitis (lung inflammation) or BOOP. BOOP stands for Bronchiolitis Obliterans with Organizing Pneumonia, a pneumonia-like condition that sometimes occurs in lung tissue after radiation in nearby tissue. If one or both nodules were cancer, I needed to go back on chemo — probably Alimta, which was effective against my cancer but eventually made me feel like I had the flu for three weeks out of every month. If one or both were pneumonitis or BOOP, I needed to go back on prednisone, an oral steroid with unpleasant side effects. We weren’t looking for lung cancer histology, although that would have been interesting info to have. Histology can determine whether a new cancer tumor is the same type of cancer as the patient’s previous tumor. A different tumor type might indicate a different type of treatment would be useful.

One of my nodules was too small to biopsy. The larger nodule was not accessible by more common biopsy methods of needle biopsy through the chest wall or endobronchial ultrasound. My pulmonologist recommended using the newer electromagnetic navigation bronchoscopy (EMN) to determine if the nodule were cancer or something else. We knew BCBSIL would probably not pay for the procedure because they have a policy stating EMN is “experimental” for all situations (despite the fact that Medicare pays for EMN and 2013 treatment guidelines list EMN as an acceptable diagnostic). BCBSIL had denied all EMN claims made to date by my hospital.

When BCBSIL denied the claim, I appealed. I explained my treatment history, including that my cancer is aggressive, and we needed to know if the nodule were BOOP or cancer to give me appropriate treatment. My doctor reviewed my letter and wrote a letter of his own to stick in the packet. I included scan CDs and appropriate medical reports.

Evidently that wasn’t enough. Because, well, I’m gonna die anyway.

FYI, the biopsy showed inflammation, but no cancer cells. The tumor board thought it was radiation pneumonitis; my pulmonologist wasn’t so sure. We tried prednisone for a month, but it had no effect. A follow-up CT one month after the biopsy showed the biopsied nodule was unchanged, while the other nodule had grown by 50%. My pulmonologist and oncologist agreed I needed to restart chemotherapy.

Misinterpreting Long-Term Health Outcomes

What frosts me about this letter is that a “specialist” decided there was no urgency to get a biopsy because it wouldn’t change my “long-term health outcome.” Did he expect me to go on steroids AND chemo (both of which have a significant impact on quality of life) in case one of them MIGHT work? Or do nothing, since I’m going to die anyway? Well, here’s a news flash: we’re ALL going to die! The purpose of medicine is to keep us as healthy as possible while delaying that inevitable long-term outcome as long as possible.

Unfortunately, such statements from doctors are not an uncommon occurrence for lung cancer patients. Many members of Inspire’s Lung Cancer Support Forum who’ve been diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer have been told, “There’s nothing more I can do.”

My biggest frustration is that in my case – and for an increasing number of lung cancer patients — the doomsday doctor is WRONG. I’m a perfect example of a stage IV patient who has a good prospect for years of a reasonably active life despite my disease.

I was lucky to have enough slides from a 2011 biopsy to have the University of Colorado test my tumor for the relatively new ROS1 genetic mutation in my tumor tissue. Because I tested positive for ROS1, I was able to enter a clinical trial for the targeted therapy crizotinib, a drug which inhibits my ROS1-driven cancer. The trial treatment eliminated both nodules and has given me No Evidence of Disease Status for five months. I am once again able to enjoy traveling, writing, and doing things with my family. If I had not had leftover biopsy slides, an EMN biopsy would have been my only opportunity to obtain enough tissue to test for ROS1. Without that ROS1 trial and crizotinib, I might be dead by now.

Doctors who don’t keep current on new treatment options and then decide a biopsy “is not going to affect long-term health outcomes” for metastatic lung cancer patients are insuring those patients will die sooner rather than later.

That’s not the kind of health insurance I want. Do you?

The Places I’ve Been … June 2013 Edition

I’ve been neglecting this blog for over a month for two reasons:

1. I helped my Aspie son with a 70-page college geology term paper (serving as typist, scribe, interpreter, cheerleader, and organizational consultant), and

2. Hubby and I took a two-week road trip through six states (Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and Oregon), three national parks (Yellowstone in WY, Grand Tetons in WY, and Craters of the Moon in ID), two national monuments (Fossil Butte in WY and Hagerman Fossil Beds in ID), and my monthly clinical trial visit in Denver.

The summary: we had a great trip, I had another clean PET-CT scan, AND the kid earned a 3.7 out of 4.0! I intend to write some entries about traveling with lung cancer, geology, and the sites I was privileged to see … as soon as I recover from vacation.

In the meantime, here are some previews of coming attractions:

 


Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park

 


Grand Tetons National Park

 


Craters of the Moon National Park

It’s My Cancerversary — And I’m Choosing to Live

Today is my cancerversary. Two years ago on this date, I was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer.

While my current status is No Evidence of Disease, I know the cancer is still lurking in my body; it’s only being suppressed (not cured) by the targeted drug crizotinib.

I’ve felt myself sliding towards depression this week. I know from past experience what depression feels like, and I do not want to go there again. I suspect subconcious awareness of my cancerversary is part of the reason. Physical discomfort due to treatment side effects (especially hand pain), steroid-induced excess weight and a newly-diagnosed partial hamstring tear aren’t helping matters. It also bugs me that fatigue has kept me from being as supportive as I’d like when my husband recently had cataract surgery.

When I woke up this morning, I realized that somehow, sometime, I had adopted a victim mentality. I have been passively accepting the crap that my body was handing me. That is simply not acceptable.

True, the cancer ain’t gone, but neither am I! Through no small effort of many people, including myself, I am alive. I am not going to waste the gift.

I can’t choose not to have cancer, but I CAN choose how I want to feel about it. Today, I choose to feel empowered and hopeful.

I can’t choose not to have side effects, but I CAN choose not to let the discomforts of my body keep me from exercising. Exercise makes a huge difference in my mood. Today, I choose to go swimming for the first time in years.

I can’t choose not to be fatigued, but I CAN choose how I react when the irritability rises unbidden. Today, I choose to hold my tongue and listen for understanding.

Today, my cancerversary commemorates not just the start of my cancer battle, but my renewed efforts to LIVE.

To celebrate, I bought new underwear. Take THAT, cancer! 😛

Clean for Another Six Weeks

After a few missteps — see my blog post “A Leaf on the Wind” — today I learned the MRIs of both my lumbar spine and my pelvis show no evidence of metastatic disease. Woohoo!

Now I can focus on enjoying the spectacular Washington weather (it’s over 80 degrees!) and breathe easy for six more weeks, when I have the next PET/CT scan.

I do intend to follow up with my primary care doctor about the significant narrowing in my spine near the stable L5-S1 displacement, and the pain in the left ischium area, which may be related to a torn hamstring.

Funny how health issues that three years ago would be major concerns now seem relatively minor when compared to metastatic cancer. I’m not even sure I’d be considered a candidate for surgical repairs of the spine or hamstring today.

May the Fourth Be With You

OK, it’s a geek thing, a reference to Star Wars.  I love space. I love science. I love science fiction.  But the concept of Star Wars has an even bigger meaning to me now as a metastatic cancer patient.

Star Wars represents a future — a dream — where one person can make a difference, where medicine is advanced enough to replace damaged body parts, where people work together to accomplish the impossible. That’s a hopeful vision for someone with advanced cancer.

Maybe lung cancer research will get the funding it needs to work miracles.  Maybe researchers will find a new treatment that works better for me before my current treatment fails.   Maybe a simple early detection method or (dare I say it?) a cure for lung cancer will arise in my lifetime.

My lung tumor was discovered two years ago today. I need all the power of the fourth I can get.

A Leaf on the WInd

As many before me have noted, cancer is a roller coaster. But sometimes the sudden ups and downs are not of cancer’s making.

Yesterday the Puget Sound region started a span of spectacular weather. It’s hard to beat a mild, sunny day presiding over deep blue water, green trees, snowy Olympic Mountains and high-definition Mount Rainier.

I drove to Seattle to visit my Virginia Mason lung cancer team in great spirits. They look forward to learning more about ROS1 and Xalkori clinical trials, and I look forward to giving them good news from a stage IV lung cancer patient. I planned to discuss my clean scan results from University of Colorado Hospital, along with some pesky side effects of past and present treatments.

With my pulmonologist, I mentioned my lingering radiation pneumonitis (lung inflammation) and hot spots noted on the PET/CT report. He pulled up the scan on his monitor for review. He started at my collarbone to confirm the area of my last recurrence showed no activity, then scrolled down through the layers of images to check my lungs. He was scrolling to the last images to check the hot spot noted on my left ischium (at the bottom of my pelvis, left side) when I heard, “What was that?” He scrolled back a few frames, and pointed to the screen.

In my spine was another hot spot. This one had NOT been noted on the PET/CT report. Since lung cancer is known to metastasize to bones and the spine (among other places), this concerned him. He consulted by phone with a clinic radiologist, who viewed the scan while they talked. The CT portion of the scan could not confirm the presence of a tumor. An MRI could give a clearer picture of structure with better resolution. The physician’s assistant scheduled my MRI at my neighborhood clinic for 8 AM next morning, Friday, with a follow-up visit the following Monday.

And this started out to be such a beautiful spring day.

I began the 30-mile drive home increasingly numb. I had thought I was in the clear for another two months, until the next PET/CT scan. When I have an impending bi-monthly scan to check for cancer recurrence, I’m prepared for bad news should it occur. But today was supposed to be a happy day of celebration with my team. I wasn’t expecting any BAD news.

As the evening wore on, I became a mass of mixed feelings. My confidence was shaken. I depend on radiologists, who are trained to analyze scans, to determine whether my cancer is still under control. Scans determine if my clinical trial drug is working. I know doctors aren’t perfect, but if a radiologist can miss a possible recurrence, where does that leave me?

I emailed my Colorado oncologist to tell him we’d found another hot spot, and asked what he wanted me to do to keep him in the loop. He is my primary oncologist and calls the shots on my treatment should I have a recurrence. He said he didn’t mind if I had the MRI in Seattle, but send him the scan and the results ASAP.

I then emailed my Seattle oncologist to request that he have a Virginia Mason radiologist review my UCH brain MRI, just for my reassurance. He replied promptly that he would do so and email me the results on Friday.

By the time I went to bed Thursday evening, I was depressed. I felt like I did when my first recurrence was discovered. I couldn’t relax. I ended up spending another hour or two searching the Internet and reading journal articles about prognosis and treatment of spinal mets in lung cancer patients (not a relaxing subject, I must admit). I also read how signs of disease are missed on radiology scans. When I did finally fall asleep, I dreamt of loss.

This morning I had my MRI. The narrow tunnel of the scanner felt especially confining for the 20 minutes I was inside. Afterwards I asked the tech if the scan covered both the lumbar area (where the spine hotspot was) and my ischium. He said no, the doctor only wanted the lumbar scan. Oh, OK, I thought. Maybe the pulmonologist wasn’t concerned about the ischium after all.

I muddled through the day until I could pick up the CD and radiology report at 3 PM. I took a deep breath, unfolded the scan report, and immediately smiled.

No evidence of metastatic disease. **Whew**

I called my pulmonologist’s office and asked if I could cancel my Monday appointment, since we had nothing to discuss. His PA called back about an hour later, but not with the response I expected. The doctor DID want to see the ischium in the scan. I have to do the MRI again Monday morning.

Instant replay. **Deep breath**

To borrow from the movie Serenity, “I am a leaf on the wind ….” The speaker, Wash, was a spaceship pilot who successfully threaded an impossibly challenging, fast-moving labyrinth to arrive safely in port.

Wash had a spike rammed through his gut about a minute after he landed.