Not So Nifty Fifty

I cannot recall a time when I was this upset with myself. I’m not a doctor, but I feel my background should have allowed me to piece together the clues and help come up with a differential diagnosis much earlier. The perfect opportunity to participate in my healthcare by joining in the discussion and raising the right questions.

Lorie and I made a trip to Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center’s (MSKCCs) urgent care center last Tuesday (11/6/18). This was due to a fever and breathing difficulty both after going up/down stairs and following coughing episodes. Consider what was known at the time:

  1. X-ray at urgent care suggesting pneumonia
  2. Shortness of breath
  3. Non-productive cough
  4. Low-grade fever
  5. History of radiation therapy to lungs in late July/early August

Pneumonia is a bacterial infection that inflames the air sacs in one or both lungs, but a subsequent CT scan and blood work didn’t confirm. Nonetheless, to be safe and in the absence of any other condition, I was prescribed one week’s worth of the broad spectrum antibiotic levofloxacin (Levaquin®) and instructed to follow-up with my oncologist.

Figure 1: Still untouched birthday ice cream cake

During the following week, all of the symptoms persisted. Between the breathing issues and fever, I didn’t feel like doing much other than resting on the couch all day and writing. Thankfully, I did manage to rally for an early birthday barbeque celebration this past Sunday. Then again, perhaps I jinxed myself by celebrating and posting early! Right, @23aloha? 😉

Aside from the aforementioned, recall that I’ve been suffering from back pain due to the progression of cancer to the spine. In early October, I met with a neurosurgeon at MSKCC in advance of receiving targeted radiation to two areas of my spine. To help prevent or minimize the pain flare that is common following radiation treatment to the skeleton, the neurosurgeon prescribed a steroid (dexamethasone).

Among other side effects, patients who are on steroids for three-weeks or longer are more susceptible to infections than are healthy individuals per the product prescribing information. After finishing radiation treatment to my spine on October 18th, I inquired with my health care team at MSKCC and began gradually reducing my dexamethasone dose to zero beginning on November 1st and finishing on November 6th (hint: day of my trip to urgent care, didn’t seem relevant at the time).

As referenced in my prior post, I’m not a big “birthday” person, but I was looking forward to celebrating my 50th milestone this past Monday. I hoped that the antibiotic would work and I’d be feeling somewhat better by then. No such luck. In general, I felt worse that day, and by the evening my temperature jumped to 101.9 Fahrenheit. No restaurant celebration or interest in my favorite ice cream cake (Figure 1). I took two acetaminophen, which brought the temperature down, and made an appointment the next afternoon to see my oncologist, Dr. David Pfister, and Nicole Leonhart, ANP, RN.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a commute between home and NYC without experiencing some significant delay. This time, a tugboat struck the Portal Bridge and we were held for close to an hour as the bridge was inspected for safety. We arrived at our appointment an hour late, but MSKCC was very accommodating.

After reviewing a new chest x-ray, my medical team offered a differential diagnosis of radiation pneumonitis based on empirical evidence. As soon as I heard the words, it made perfect sense. How could I have missed that! I knew radiation pneumonitis was a potential risk.

Radiation pneumonitis and pneumonia share many clinical features, including inflammation of the lung(s). Radiation pneumonitis is one of the most common toxicities of stereotactic body radiation therapy (SBRT). Most cases are either asymptomatic or manageable, with the reported rates of symptomatic radiation pneumonitis after SBRT range from 9% to 28%. However, most patients develop late pulmonary toxicity characterized by localized pulmonary fibrosis (scarring) in the region receiving the high-dose.

Sure enough, the suspicious areas on my chest x-ray correlated almost exactly with the areas targeted with SBRT over the summer. The sudden appearance of symptoms corresponding with tapering of the prior steroid dexamethasone also provided an important clue. It is likely the steroid meant to address potential bone pain flare issues was also treating the radiation pneumonitis. When I stopped the dexamethasone, the radiation pneumonitis was left untreated and suddenly became symptomatic. Ta-da!

The good news is that with adequate steroid treatment, most patients achieve complete recovery from their symptoms. As a result, I was prescribed an initial two-week supply of another steroid (prednisone). But a diagnosis of pneumonitis does increase the risk of developing subsequent pulmonary complications, including fibrosis, a permanent scarring of the lungs.

While it wasn’t a perfect birthday in the traditional sense (whatever that even means), I prefer to focus on the fact that Lorie, Rosie, and Megan (and the zoo!) were with me on this 50th milestone, and that the recent symptoms weren’t due to further cancer progression (my initial concern) but rather a manageable radiation treatment side effect. Honestly, that is the best gift I could have received.

I would be remiss if I didn’t also acknowledge how important all of the happy birthday calls, texts, gifts, and social media posts were to me. It is one thing to hear from family and friends, but some messages from people I’ve never met in person were also truly lovely and brought a smile to my face. I do read EVERY post! So, to everyone who took time out of their day to acknowledge my birthday—thank you from the bottom of my heart!

 

Fifty (50)

“Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest.”—Reverend Larry Lorenzoni

I’ve never been a big birthday person. However, I have enjoyed celebrating some of my more significant age milestones so far—16, 18, 21, 30, and maybe even 40. But somehow approaching the big 5-0 tomorrow seems different; more momentous.

It may sound morbid, but my first thought was “at least now I won’t die in my forties.” Making it to 50 somehow sounds better. At my worst in the summer of 2017, Lorie and I were convinced that I’d never even see my 49th birthday.

I’m not sure what makes turning 50 so unique. Perhaps it’s because I’ve finally settled into my skin, even if I have a hard time recognizing my reflection in the mirror these days.

Or maybe after reading and reflecting on mortality during the past three years, it is comforting to see progress in breaking down the cultural silence around death and dying. For example, in recent years, there has been a slew of books authored by “expert patients.” Doctors, scientists, and writers who are reflecting on their departure and have sought to show us different, kinder ways of ending (Atul Gawande, Paul Kalanithi, etc.).

This is encouraging. Most popular cultural conversations around cancer focus on survivors and miracles. Their stories should be celebrated, but we don’t hear from terminal cancer patients as often—perhaps they are too sick or too busy to tell them. It’s their stories that may help inspire big questions and positive change.

“There are only two days with fewer than 24 hours in each lifetime, sitting like bookmarks astride our lives: one is celebrated every year, yet it is the other that makes us see living as precious,” writes Kathryn Mannix in her book, With the End in Mind.

Between those bookmarks is where life takes place. When dealing with a terminal condition, some people decide to focus on quality versus quantity of life, rejecting medical options that might negatively impact their body image, cognitive functioning, mental health, fatigue, sleep problems, physical functioning, pain, and more. They have made their peace—if not with cancer, then with their living and their dying. They want their remaining valuable time to consist of more than a war against cancer.

This is where I have been since March 2018, with no systemic anti-cancer treatments, such as chemotherapy, during the period. My only therapy has consisted of externally targeted radiation to several painful metastatic sites on my spine and a bisphosphonate infusion to help strengthen my bones. Also, I’ve had radiation aimed at the tumor on my spleen as well as a few mediastinum/thoracic nodes to alleviate coughing.

The good news is that radiation mainly addressed the pain originating from my spine. However, destruction of the bone by the tumor left little remaining support for the L5 vertebral body, which subsequently progressed to a compression fracture and resulting pain. In a few weeks, I have an appointment with a neurosurgeon at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC) to discuss options for stabilizing the spine. I’m also meeting with my oncologist to review recent CT scans showing growth in the pulmonary and thoracic nodes.

That’s the rub with cancer. There is always something going on; something else to be done. Another fire to be put out. Fortunately, the majority of my issues have been manageable with palliative treatment thus far. Indeed, nothing to stand in the way of some upcoming speaking opportunities or tomorrow’s quiet birthday celebration with Lorie and the girls (and our small petting zoo).

Steak on the grill

We even started my birthday celebration a little early last night. The November evening was cold and dry, which made it possible to use the barbeque one more time this season. So, I grilled some steaks Lorie got from the store, and we had a delicious homecooked meal that everyone seemed to enjoy. Despite my stomach upset and taste issues, I was able to eat about half my usual serving (par for the course these days).

Hopefully, last night is a good omen for what life has in store for me after turning 50. Until then, I’m just going to keep enjoying each day as it comes.

Thanks in advance to everyone for the birthday thoughts and wishes!

100th Blog Post

Humphrey Celebrating 100th Blog Post

Pop the champagne! Today is the publication of my hundredth (100th) blog post for My Cancer Journey.

I still remember typing the inaugural post on November 25, 2015. That was the day I first discovered a suspicious lump on the right side of my neck. In many ways, it feels like yesterday. In other ways, it seems so very long ago.

At the time, I opted to start blogging versus keeping a private journal about my experience with Stage IV oropharyngeal cancer after being formally diagnosed in December 2015. Beyond finding writing cathartic, blogging allowed me to efficiently keep family and friends updated about my disease progression and treatments.

Blogging is a unique experience. And it isn’t for everyone. Sharing your personal thoughts and feelings with the whole world can be unnerving. In the beginning, I often wondered if anyone was even reading my material. Maybe my words weren’t reaching or inspiring anyone. Was I wasting my precious remaining time putting words into the ether?

But over the past nearly three years, I’ve heard from so many of you who have been following my blog and leaving comments after my articles. I’ve even been able to meet some of you. Traffic to my blog has grown substantially. All of this inspires me to keep publishing, to put myself out there, with the hope that my words might be making a difference to somebody.

While I’ve always enjoyed writing, it’s now quite valuable. When fatigue or pain restrict my physical activities, I can usually still muster the energy to write. And like everything else I do in life, I write—with a purpose! Raising awareness for the human papillomavirus (HPV) and its connection to six different cancers, advocating for preteen HPV vaccination, fighting for patient literacy, rights, safety, and more.

Having such a purpose is critical to me. Being a productive member of society, or just being able to go out and do normal things, can make all the difference to a cancer patient. Throughout my journey, cancer has robbed my family and me of many “normal” aspects of life—loss of work, income, physical stamina, future plans, and much more. I’m sure others feel the same.

I used to think that my purpose in life was to develop new medicines and bring them to patients who need them. And it was a very fulfilling job. But cancer gave me a new walk, a new purpose. One that I never saw coming. And so far, no other activity compares with the level of personal satisfaction and self-esteem derived from my current role as an expert patient.

And every time I think that I’ve run out of things to do or say, my cancer journey takes a new turn, and the words continue to flow. Next week I’m scheduled for an additional radiation session targeted to my spleen tumor at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC). I will also have another MRI of my spine, as the recent radiation treatment didn’t completely knock out my pain.

Until the next post, thank you for reading my blog and for your interest in me and my cancer journey!

Solid Pain Relief, No Bones About It

On Wednesday, I finished my fifth and final session of radiation therapy to my troublesome spine tumors at L5 and T7. I received a total of about 30 gray (Gy) to each spine site, which is the unit for radiation measurement of absorbed dose. As hoped, the treatment already alleviated some of my more severe pain, which should only improve as the radiation continues to exert its effects and decrease the size of the targeted tumors.

With a background in radiopharmaceuticals, I’ve been a strong proponent of radiation therapy for some time. Despite the improvement in surgical techniques and advances in systemic therapies, management of patients with metastatic bone disease remains a powerful cornerstone for the radiation oncologist. Nothing works quite like radiation to reduce bone pain!

That same day, I also received an intravenous infusion of Zometa® (zoledronic acid). The drug belongs to a class of bone-strengthening agents called bisphosphonates. Zometa used to both prevent and treat skeletal complications in patients with bone metastases due to all solid tumors.

Within three days after zoledronic acid injection administration, an acute phase reaction has been reported in some patients. Symptoms may include fever, fatigue, bone pain and/or joint pain, muscle pain, chills, and influenza-like illness.

Michael Becker received a flu shot at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC)

Sure enough, about 4 am ET Thursday morning I could not keep warm in bed despite layering several blankets (and a 90-pound golden retriever). I was shivering but didn’t have a fever. The buttock discomfort also came raging back, but this pain flare phenomenon is common with both radiation therapy and bisphosphonate use. I couldn’t do much at all yesterday concerning activity, but the symptoms usually resolve within a few days, and today (Friday) I’m already feeling better.

During my appointment on Wednesday, I also had a treatment planning procedure called a simulation for more radiation therapy targeting my spleen (I received about 9 Gy in a single session last time). The simulation is where your treatment site is mapped so you get the right dose of radiation directed to cancer with minimal exposure to nearby healthy tissue. During the procedure, my torso was marked with permanent little tattoo dots and CT scans were taken to identify the area that will be treated in subsequent visits. As of now, the spleen radiation is set for five sessions/appointments at MSKCC in late October.

Importantly, during Wednesday’s visit, I also received the annual influenza vaccine. While you should get the flu shot to protect yourself against the virus, it is also important to help protect many immune compromised cancer patients (and others at risk) who use public transportation and are constantly exposed to people sneezing and coughing. PLEASE get your flu shot today to help protect them (and do it for you!).

Life’s a Beach

Last summer I was in terrible shape. I had not one, but two chest tubes to drain fluid from my left lung. My disease was progressing with each CT scan. I was contending with a newly discovered blood clot and bleeding issues from the corresponding medication. Also, a rapid heart rate required a brief stay in the ICU. The prognosis at that time was grim. In fact, if someone told me at the time that I’d still be here this summer—I wouldn’t have believed them.

However, after starting combination chemotherapy, my cancer regressed (still present, but smaller). Both chest tubes were eventually removed as the fluid in my lung cleared. My heart rate has been stable since starting medication. An inferior vena cava (IVC) filter, a medical device, was implanted into my inferior vena cava to catch blood clots and stop them from moving up to the heart and lungs.

After finishing my ninth cycle/month of combination chemotherapy (carboplatin and paclitaxel), I decided to take a treatment break in March 2018 at the suggestion of my oncologist. With each passing day, my energy and appetite have improved. Today, I almost look and feel “normal” for the first time since beginning treatment back in early 2016.

But this coming week marks my periodic CT scan to see how my disease has behaved (or not) without any treatment during the past few months. Understandably stressful and causing me great anxiety (scanxiety), I’ve had four migraines in a little over one week. Uncharacteristic enough in frequency to warrant a trip to the emergency room, but an MRI of my head showed everything was fine. Or, “f.i.n.e.” as far as my brain goes! (A reference to rock band Aerosmith’s acronym “Fucked Up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional”)

For me, distractions are key during periods of scanxiety. So, my youngest daughter, Megan, and I spent the day at the shore (Ocean Grove Beach, NJ) on Friday. We’re the only two members of our immediate (and very pale) family who truly enjoy going to the beach. It was my first trip there since before being diagnosed in 2015!

However, more fun than the sun, sand, and sea were the impromptu singing sessions in the car ride there and back. Since they were young, I’ve exposed both our daughters to a wide variety of music. I’m proud they still know the words and can sing along to diverse artists such as Johnny Cash, The Beatles, Guns N’ Roses, Van Halen, and many others. I cannot carry a tune in a bucket, but Meg has a decent singing voice.

The perfect ending to the day, I barbequed burgers for Lorie and me after arriving home late that afternoon. School is still in session, so she had worked a full day. It was quite a feast – fresh sweet corn, baked beans, and chips. Preparing a meal for her was nice for a change.

I’ve lost count of the fantastic times that I’ve experienced during my recent treatment break. But yesterday was one that will stand out for quite some time. It was a darn good day!

After this week’s CT scan and subsequent radiology report, I’ll post another blog update. So, stay tuned.

Whirlwind

The past week is a blur. It started last Saturday with the airing of a national television segment on CBS during both their morning and evening broadcasts. Reported by Dr. Jon LaPook, Chief Medical Correspondent for CBS News, the show highlighted the recent rise in head/neck cancer in men due to “oral” human papillomavirus (HPV) and featured my story as an example. Special thanks to everyone who played a role in creating this important segment! A replay is available below:

On Monday, I traveled to Washington, DC via train to speak at the Rare Disease Legislative Advocates 2018 Legislative Conference in the session titled, “Right to Try – Is it a Solution?” I haven’t been shy about my cynical perspective on this pending legislation. You can learn more by reading my opinion article on the topic (click here) and listening to a replay of my interview with NPR’s Scott Simon (click here).

Panel session titled, “Right to Try – Is it a Solution?”

Tuesday morning marked the beginning of my ninth cycle of chemotherapy at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC) in NYC, which will slow me down a bit. Recall that each chemotherapy cycle is four weeks, beginning with both carboplatin and paclitaxel on week one, paclitaxel only for week two, and then no treatment for weeks three and four to allow blood counts to recover. Towards the end of March, I’ll have another CT scan to determine if my disease is still stable or progressing. In this regard, I’m hoping March indeed goes out like a lamb!

Michael Becker receiving chemotherapy at MSKCC on 2/27/18

In the meantime, I’m participating in several additional media opportunities to help tell my story and create more awareness for HPV and its link to cancer in both men and women. Interestingly, the International Papillomavirus Society (IPVS) has declared this Sunday, March 4th as “International HPV Awareness Day” to promote awareness of and education around HPV infection, how it spreads, and how HPV infection and the cancers it causes can be prevented. Click here for more information.

Just A Walk

Finally. The type of day that begs you to go outdoors. Sunny and warm, with just the hint of a breeze. Time to go outside and shake the winter blues. Just a walk; no purpose this time.

Usually, I would have traveled to NYC today for chemotherapy treatment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC). However, my recent hospital stay due to low white blood cell counts led my oncologist to postpone treatment for an extra week just to be safe.

Humphrey

I didn’t need to ask our three dogs if they were interested. As soon as I grabbed a leash, they all swarmed me like I was holding leftover steak. I used to be able to manage two at a time for a walk, but not anymore. Three guesses as to which one got to go first.

I’m not sure who is in worse shape – me or Humphrey. Before we embarked, I set my expectations low. If I could manage only a few blocks, then so be it.

As soon as we got out the door, the warm air and sun on my skin felt amazing. I wore a sweat jacket over a t-shirt but took it off after only a block or two. Before I knew it, Humphrey and I had made it to my stretch goal – the Garden of Reflection 9-11 Memorial. Approximately a 2-mile roundtrip walk from our house.

Humphrey

When we arrived back home, I was sweating and Humphrey didn’t stop panting for 30-minutes. Clearly, we need to do this more often.

They’re an increasingly rare event, but days like today when I’m both motivated and have energy are a blessing. Hopefully, tomorrow will be the same  and I can walk the other two pups!

My Valentine

Valentine card symbol – birds in love

Valentine’s Day is widely recognized as a day for celebrating romance, with people buying flowers, candy, jewelry and other gifts as a sign of love and devotion for their beloveds. While no one has pinpointed the exact origin of the holiday, its romantic association is apparently related to the time of year when birds choose their mates.

Regardless of its origin, Hallmark Cards began mass producing valentines in 1913 and February 14th hasn’t been quite the same since. But “Valentine” comes from the Latin word valentia, which means “strength” or “capacity,” and it’s those attributes that serve as the inspiration for this blog post.

It’s strange how certain moments can really stick in one’s mind. For me, one such memory is from the beginning of Deadpool, a 2016 American superhero film based on the Marvel Comics character of the same name. A comedy seemed appropriate, as I was undergoing initial cancer treatment at the time and needed a good laugh.

Watching the movie alone from the comfort of my home on cable television, there were many moments when I chuckled. However, one scene caught me off-guard. You see, after learning that he has advanced cancer, lead character Wade Wilson (Deadpool/Ryan Reynolds) breaks up with his fiancé Vanessa rather than subject her to life with a terminally ill man.

“Listen, we both know that cancer is a shit-show. Like a Yakov Smirnoff opening for the Spin Doctors at the Iowa State Fair shit-show. And under no circumstances will I take you to that show. I want you to remember me, not the ghost of Christmas me.”

“The worst part about cancer isn’t what it does to you… but what it does to the people you love.”

– Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) in Deadpool

Sure, it was only a movie. But the dark cancer message “what it does to the people you love” haunted me for days. Would my wife and children actually be better off not being subjected to my forthcoming shit-show? It wasn’t just a Hollywood moment, but rather a genuine concern.

Studies have shown that wives who encountered the unexpected and uncontrollable situation of having a husband with diagnosed cancer experienced a multitude of coping difficulties. In addition, wives underwent psychological disorganization, disequilibrium, and emotional imbalance. Not surprisingly, they also reported that their children had coping difficulties. Partners of patients who are experiencing a recurrence of their illness or who are in the metastatic stage of the disease are more vulnerable to increased distress and problems of adjustment.

Yup, running away. Disappearing. Going off-the-grid so that no one could find me. Deteriorating, suffering, and ultimately dying alone. No record or witness for what I went through. Those who knew me would simply remember me for who I was, not what I had become – a terminally ill cancer patient. I foolishly gave it all serious consideration in the name of protecting my family. Acquiring superhero powers just didn’t seem as viable.

Fast-forward to today and clearly, I did the exact opposite of simply disappearing into obscurity. I started this blog, published my memoir, and became a vocal patient advocate. Through radio, television, and numerous articles and interviews, I helped increase awareness for the human papillomavirus (HPV), its link to cancer, and the importance of HPV vaccination. Knowing that I couldn’t shield my family from the shit-show, helping others avoid my plight seemed like the only logical alternative to extract some good from a bad situation.

I suspect many people on the outside will have strong opinions as to whether or not I made the right decision. Entering my third year of treatment, I can say that I’m still not completely sure. There is a long, long list of sights, sounds, and sadness during this period that I would gladly erase from my family’s memory. But there are also many good times that I truly treasure.

Fortunately, I had complete faith in my wife, Lorie. I knew her resolution, inner power and confidence, which I found attractive qualities from day one, would help get her through the shit-show. She possessed the requisite strength and capacity.

It has been anything but easy, yet I believe our relationship is even stronger now as a result of cancer. Or, perhaps Lorie is just experiencing the Florence Nightingale Effect, as she has become quite a skilled cancer caregiver.

As we approach Valentine’s Day (also her birthday!), a special “thank you” to Lorie for simultaneously juggling work, caregiving, housekeeping, raising our daughters, being a strong role model for them, managing our small petting zoo, and much, much more. Happy Birthday and Happy Valentine’s Day, Lorie! You didn’t deserve a front row seat at the shit-show and I’m very lucky to have you by my side.

Uneventful Streak Ends

It started with a runny nose and sneezing last weekend. Then came a cough and a mild fever that never went above 99.7 Fahrenheit – that is until the following Wednesday. A brief telephone discussion with the doctor on call late that evening confirmed that a trip to Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center’s (MSKCCs) urgent care facility was in order.

Following my latest round of chemotherapy, a fever of 100.4 Fahrenheit or higher is disconcerting. It could signal that I’m neutropenic – running dangerously low on a type of white blood cell (neutrophils) that serve as the body’s primary defense against acute bacterial and certain fungal infections. The chemotherapy I’ve been receiving can reduce the number of neutrophils circulating in the blood. Alternatively, a fever could be associated with the flu, which is particularly dangerous this season and breaking records.

Lorie and I started packing for an overnight stay at the MSKCC “bed and breakfast” as we like to call it. Before heading out, I hugged each of our dogs – just in case. Unfortunately, that simple action set into motion a rush of feelings and steady stream of tears down my cheeks. I was a total mess by the time Lorie backed the car out from the garage. Our daughters weren’t home at the time, which in retrospect was probably best.

At first, I failed to appreciate why Lorie attempted to set a new land speed record for shortest travel time between Bucks County, PA and New York City. Then, I remembered how I narrowly missed having a tachycardia event (abnormally fast heart rate) on the New Jersey Turnpike during our last trip to MSKCC’s urgent care facility in August 2017 when I ended up in the ICU.

Upon arrival at urgent care just before midnight, a series of tests were ordered – blood work, urine, chest x-ray, and nasal swab to test for influenza. The blood work came back first and my absolute neutrophil count (ANC) was 800 cells per microliter of blood. With an ANC below 1,000 cells per microliter of blood, the risk of infection increases. Combined with my fever, the medical team informed me that I was going to be admitted to the hospital and given a broad spectrum, intravenous antibiotic Zosyn® (piperacillin and tazobactam).

One by one, the other test results came back normal – that is until the nasal swab revealed I was positive for Influenza B. Influenza A and B are the two main types that routinely spread in humans and cause seasonal flu epidemics. Fortunately, I had received a flu shot this season, as this can help reduce the severity of the virus.

Alas, being hospitalized ended the longest “uneventful” streak of my cancer experience. But for six glorious months, living with cancer was relatively dull and boring. And it was wonderful.

With the source of my fever identified as the flu, I was prescribed Tamiflu® (oseltamivir phosphate) and the general plan was to release me from the hospital as soon as my ANC returned to 1,000 or higher. My prior chemotherapy was given on January 30th, so its adverse effect on my blood counts should be diminishing. Patients often have their lowest number (called a nadir) and highest risk of infection around 7 to 10 days after the start of chemotherapy.

However, my next ANC count was 400. When ANC falls below 500 cells per microliter (severe neutropenia), the risk of infection increases significantly. Accordingly, my stay at the bed and breakfast was extended.

Michael and Lorie Becker at MSKCC

By Friday, my ANC rebounded slightly to 700. Heading in the right direction, but still below the 1,000-level needed for my release home. I felt much better than when I was admitted, which was frustrating. In fact, the fever went away as did a runny nose, sneezing, and coughing.

A repeat blood test was scheduled for very early Saturday morning, with the expectation that my ANC would finally rise above 1,000 and we’d be sent home. Or so I hoped. But the test results showed a slight decrease from the prior day to 600.

I was then given a shot of Neupogen® (filgrastim), which works like a natural protein in your body to promote the growth of new white blood cells. Interestingly, Neupogen was among the very first biotechnology products that I learned about during my introduction to the sector in the late 1990s. It was approved by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) back in 1991.

My blood counts will continue to be monitored until the ANC improves, but sometimes it can take 24-hours to see the effect of Neupogen. And so, we wait.

Continuing with Chemotherapy (and Blogging)

In my prior post, I referenced that more and more terminal cancer patients are placing their most private, personal journeys in this entirely public, impersonal domain we call the Internet. Among the blogs about fashion, food, home design, travel, and others, numerous blogs about severe disease and dying have appeared in recent years.

Personally, I find that writing a cancer blog is cathartic – and I’ve been doing it for more than two years now. It’s a great way to share updates and information quickly and efficiently to others who are interested in your health. Blogs and participation in other online patient forums also make the experiences of cancer illness publicly visible, provide alternative voices to that of the medical expertise, and challenge the traditional patient-doctor relations[1]. What a remarkable era for patient advocacy.

But maintaining open and honest communication with your health professionals is an essential part of the cancer patient’s care. Doctors, nurses and patients work best together when they can talk honestly and openly with one another. In this regard, it is essential that patients avoid blogging or posting anything on social media that could jeopardize this relationship. When in doubt, discuss material and images that you plan on blogging with them in advance – especially when the information pertains to participation in an ongoing clinical trial where sensitivities to confidential data may exist.

Michael Becker and David G. Pfister, MD

So far, healthcare professionals have embraced my public visibility. For example, I first met my incredible medical oncologist, Dr. David G. Pfister at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC), in December 2015. Since that time, I published my memoir, more than 75 cancer blog posts, and three opinion editorials in various media outlets. It’s probably safe to say that I’ve been among his more “uniquely” visible patients during the past two years. But Dr. Pfister and others at MSKCC, along with my team at the National Institutes of Health (NIH), have mainly been accepting and supportive of my blog, book, and photojournalism. And, for the first time, my wife Lorie was even able to snap a quick photo of me with Dr. Pfister this week that I will treasure.

On the topic of this week’s appointment, we reviewed the CT scan results from last Friday’s imaging session. As updated briefly via social media, the results were favorable – stable disease (there were no new sites of disease, and the existing tumors stayed about the same size from the prior scan). Growth in the current tumors or new sites of disease would indicate disease progression and likely necessitate switching therapies. Since that wasn’t the case, and since I’ve handled chemo well with no neuropathy or need for growth factors, the plan is to continue with my current chemotherapy regimen. It consists of a four-week cycle starting with carboplatin and paclitaxel on week one, paclitaxel only for week two, and then no treatment for weeks three and four to allow blood counts to recover. I’ll have two more cycles and then do another CT scan around the second week of April 2018.

After the meeting with Dr. Pfister, I started my eighth cycle of this chemo regimen and was back home by late afternoon. The purpose of this treatment is palliative – to keep the tumors in my lungs and other organs from growing to a point where they cause pain, breathing difficulty, and other issues. It is different from care to cure your illness, called curative treatment.

When treatment is palliative, some patients may feel uncomfortable asking their doctor, “How long do you think I have to live?” The truth is that this question is often awkward for doctors too. Nonetheless, it is a question on the mind of many terminal cancer patients – including me.

Every patient is different, and a statistical prognosis is just an estimate, not a firm prediction. For example, last summer I was in terrible shape (two chest tubes, progressive disease, blood clot and bleeding issues, rapid heart rate requiring a stay in the ICU, etc.). The prognosis at that time was grim, and I wasn’t expected to live more than a few months.

But, effective treatments can sometimes dramatically improve a person’s well-being and even survival. After starting chemotherapy again, cancer regressed, and both chest tubes were removed as the fluid in my lung cleared. My heart rate has been stable since starting medication. I celebrated my birthday, Megan’s birthday, holidays, and welcomed the New Year. It’s now likely that I will be there for Lorie and Rosie’s birthdays next month and even our 26th wedding anniversary in March. I have been given additional precious time.

My disease is still likely incurable, and the current statistical prognosis indicates a median life expectancy of less than one year. I suffer from fatigue, anxiety, depression and other issues that negatively impact my quality of life. Knowing my prognosis, however, is helpful for guiding critical personal plans and life decisions.

I believe that blogging about life with a terminal illness can offer unique insights into how it is to live with cancer and to face the final phase of life. Hidden away and sequestered, removed from everyday experience, death has made a mediated return to the public sphere through digital and networked media[2].

References:

[1] Andersson Y. (2017 Jan 1). Blogs and the Art of Dying: Blogging With, and About, Severe Cancer in Late Modern Swedish Society. Omega (Westport).

[2] Lagerkvist, A. (2013). New Memory Cultures and Death: Existential Security in the Digital Memory Ecology. Thanatos, 2(2), pp. 1-17.

Blogging for the Terminally Ill

The days preceding my periodic CT imaging sessions to determine if my cancer is regressing (good), progressing (bad), or unchanged are often very difficult for many other cancer patients and me. Stressing about the results won’t change the outcome, but that doesn’t stop me from mentally exploring all of the various scenarios. There’s even a term for it – scanxiety – coined by fellow cancer survivors.

Humphrey suffering from writer’s block

I find that writing helps keep my mind occupied during periods of scanxiety. Even when I am writing about cancer, the process of organizing my thoughts or researching a topic online is a welcome distraction that helps me pass the time.

So, this morning, I decided to Google “terminal cancer blogs” to research the writings of other cancer patients. I was looking for common themes among the multitude of cancers, not just my particular diagnosis. I was also generally curious how many “other” bloggers there are like me.

The exercise started innocently enough. Within 0.54 seconds, Google informed me of the approximate 580,000 search results. I clicked on the title of the first one that caught my eye – “Terminally Fabulous.” With a positive name like that, I hoped to find an inspirational blog.

Suddenly, I was engrossed in the life of Lisa Magill, a Brisbane, Australia woman who started her Terminally Fabulous blog in February 2016, three years after being diagnosed with an incurable rare form of stomach cancer at the age of 30. Ominously, the first thing I noticed upon visiting her blog was that the most recent post was from nearly a year ago (February 24, 2017). Only by following the link to the Terminally Fabulous page on Facebook did I learn that Lisa succumbed to her disease in early March 2017 at the age of 34.

Reading previous entries on Terminally Fabulous, I appreciated Lisa’s writing – full of humor, brutal honesty, and courage. In one entry, she referenced Emma Betts, a friend, cancer survivor and inspirational fellow blogger. Through her Dear Melanoma blog, Emma (like Lisa) shared her cancer journey to help educate others about the importance of cancer awareness and protection methods needed to help prevent melanoma. My heart sunk a little more profoundly after reading the opening text of the Dear Melanoma blog: “Hi, I’m Leon, Emma’s dad. By now I’m sure you’ve heard that Emma passed away in April 2017.” She was 25.

After visiting several more terminal cancer blogs from my Google search results, including The Death ProjectDarn Good Lemonade, Anna Swabey: Inside My Head, Tina’s Journey, Cancer in Context by Debra Sherman and others, the grim common theme became clear: Terminal cancer indicates a disease that will progress until death with near absolute certainty.

Yes – of course, there are always exceptions (and I still “hope” to be one…). Take blogger Sophie Sabbage, diagnosed on October 13, 2014, at the age of 48 with Stage 4 terminal cancer – multiple tumors in her lungs, lymph nodes, bones, and brain. According to a recent blog post from December 22, 2017, her brain scan showed EVERY tumor had gone except for an 8mm spot. She even states that her cautious oncologist called this “fantastic.” Twice.

What I learned is that more and more terminal cancer patients are placing their most private, personal journeys in this public and impersonal domain we call the Internet. Take some time to read these brave stories and embrace their author’s vulnerability. They serve to remind ALL of us that our time on this planet is limited and some even provide inspiration to lead happy and more meaningful lives as a result.

I hope to provide an update on my CT scan results early next week, so stay tuned…

Cervical Cancer and HPV

What a relief that the weather for yesterday’s periodic commute to New York for chemotherapy was much warmer than the bone-chilling, windy backdrop of the past several days. Even more pleasant was a punctual public transportation commute, which got me to my appointment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC) on time. Work on the signals and tracks at NY Penn Station frequently delayed my trains in recent weeks, so I never know quite what to expect these days.

My blood counts were amenable to the scheduled dose of chemotherapy, which was infused as planned. My positive transportation karma continued, and I was back home resting in Pennsylvania by mid-afternoon. No more treatment until after my CT scan later this month for an update on my disease status (queue “scanxiety”).

Traveling alone, I took time during my commute to listen to music on my headphones and catch up on news events. Scrolling through my Twitter feed, I came across the fact that January is Cervical Cancer Awareness Month. It caught my eye, as cervical cancer and oropharyngeal cancer (tongue, throat, and tonsil – as in my particular diagnosis) collectively account for more than two-thirds of the cancer cases caused by high-risk human papillomavirus (HPV) infection. According to the CDC, more than 30,000 new cancers attributable to HPV infection are diagnosed each year.

HPV is the most common sexually transmitted infection in the United States. Nearly 80 million people — about one in four Americans — are currently infected, and about 14 million people become infected with HPV each year. Almost all sexually active people get infected with HPV at some point in their lives.

For most people exposed to HPV, the virus goes away on its own, but a small group of people will experience health problems — sometimes even 20 or 30 years after the initial contact — and go on to develop cancer. In these individuals, HPV can cause changes in the body that can lead to the development of:

  • Cervical, vaginal and vulvar cancer in women;
  • Penile cancer in men; and
  • Oropharyngeal (the tongue, tonsils, and back of the throat), anal, and rectal cancer in both women and men.

The good news is that HPV infections and the seven cancers attributed to them are highly preventable with available vaccines that protect against the high-risk HPV 16 and HPV 18 types responsible for 90 percent of HPV-related cancers. The bad news is that despite reliable data showing the safety and benefits of the vaccines, the rate of vaccination in both sexes is disappointing. Across America, only 49.5 percent of girls and 37.5 percent of boys were up to date with the recommended HPV vaccination series, according to a 2017 CDC report. Interestingly, around 80 percent of adolescents receive two other recommended vaccines—a vaccine to prevent meningococcus, which causes bloodstream infections and meningitis, and the Tdap vaccine to prevent tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis.

So, with PLENTY of room for progress in vaccinating both girls and boys against HPV, please schedule a time to talk to your pediatrician now to eradicate this cancer-causing virus.

PS – There is undoubtedly a role for gender-specific cancer awareness activities, such as Cervical Cancer Awareness Month. From pink ribbons to professional sports apparel, breast cancer awareness advocates have done a fantastic job spreading the word that October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. But each September, during National Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, the color blue doesn’t consume the country with the same vigor. And reduced awareness correlates with less money*, as prostate cancer research receives less than half of the funding as breast cancer research from the American Cancer Society. On this note, perhaps it is time to at least consider “HPV-Related Cancer Awareness Month” or something gender neutral?

* Of course, correlation does not imply causation

First Chemo of 2018

Early this morning, my youngest daughter Megan and I arrived at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC) to start round number seven of my current chemotherapy regimen (a combination of carboplatin and paclitaxel). What a fun way to welcome 2018!

Each treatment appointment is preceded by a blood test to look at the levels of various components (red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets, electrolytes, etc.). Not surprisingly, all of my counts were good enough to warrant treatment today as planned after a two-week break at the end of December 2017.

Michael and daughter Megan Becker in the chemo suite at MSKCC

Knowing today might be a bit crazy, I had scheduled an early morning appointment to try and get ahead of any delays. We arrived a few minutes before my 7:45 am ET blood test and ended up catching the 12:20 pm ET train from New York to return home. Everything went fine with treatment, although I don’t usually start feeling the side effects for a few days.

I met with my oncologist Dr. Pfister during today’s appointment. He discussed doing my next CT scan around the end of January 2018, which would be after the current chemo treatment cycle is finished. Depending on those results, he discussed maintenance treatment with just one of the two chemotherapies if the scan looks good. Otherwise, he might recommend switching to cetuximab (Erbitux©) if the chemo isn’t continuing to work. Either way, it looks like I’ll be coming to another critical treatment decision point early in 2018.

The best news of the week was being able to spend New Year’s Eve celebrating with my wife, Lorie. Actually, “celebrating” might be a strong word–unless you expand the definition to include sitting on the couch watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with Ryan Seacrest and going to bed before midnight. But, we were together for yet another milestone. One that, frankly, I was quite surprised to see.

To my family, friends, colleagues, researchers, health care providers, members of the media and anyone reading this blog post–thank you for your interest in my cancer patient journey. I wouldn’t be here today without such a robust support network. Best wishes for good health, plenty of happiness, and much prosperity in 2018 and beyond to all of you!

 

New Study Highlights Importance of HPV Prevention

A new study published in the journal Cancer represents the largest population-based study of survival for human papillomavirus (HPV)-associated cancers in the United States, covering 59% of the population. The study covered 220,211 histologically-confirmed cases diagnosed during 2001 through 2011 (see Figure 1).

HPV is the most common sexually transmitted infection in the United States. Nearly 80 million people — about one in four Americans — are currently infected and about 14 million people become infected with HPV each year. Nearly all sexually active people get infected with HPV at some point in their lives.

For most people exposed to HPV, the virus goes away on its own, but a small group of people will experience health problems — sometimes even 20 or 30 years after the initial contact — and go on to develop cancer. In these people, HPV can cause changes in the body that can lead to the development of seven different types of cancer:

  • Cervical, vaginal and vulvar cancer in women;
  • Penile cancer in men; and
  • Oropharyngeal (the tongue, tonsils and back of the throat), anal, and rectal cancer in both women and men.

According to the new study, HPV-related oropharyngeal cancer surpassed the incidence of cervical cancer during the period (80,151 versus 79,425 patients, respectively). Of the 80,151 oropharyngeal patients, nearly 80 percent (63,457) were male. Collectively, these two cancers accounted for more than two-thirds of the cases in the study.

Figure 1 (adapted from Cancer Volume 124, Issue 1, January 1, 2018, Pages 203–211)

For women diagnosed with cervical cancer, the 5-year relative survival rate was high (64.2 percent), which may reflect the availability of screening tools and early detection. Patients diagnosed at the localized stage (only in the part of the body where it started) generally have a better prognosis compared with those diagnosed at regional or distant stages. In this regard, nearly one-half of cervical cancers in the study were detected at the localized stage.

The 5-year survival rate for patients with HPV-related oropharyngeal cancer (51.2 percent), was the second lowest among HPV-associated cancers. Study researchers observed that more than 60 percent of HPV-associated oropharyngeal cancers were diagnosed at the regional stage (spread to adjacent organs, structures, or regional lymph nodes) compared with less than 40 percent for other HPV-associated cancers. Only 15.9 percent of HPV-related oropharyngeal cancers were diagnosed at the localized stage.

The authors conclude that in the absence of routine screening, with the exception of cervical cancer, primary prevention through HPV vaccination is essential—especially for oropharyngeal cancer, which is expected to become the most common HPV-associated cancer by 2020. HPV vaccines are approved and recommended for use among both boys and girls.

Sadly, only 49.5 percent of girls and 37.5 percent of boys in the United States were up to date with the HPV vaccination series, according to a 2017 CDC report. In sharp contrast, around 80 percent of adolescents receive two other recommended vaccines—a vaccine to prevent meningococcus, which causes bloodstream infections and meningitis, and the Tdap vaccine to prevent tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis.

Please talk to your pediatrician about vaccinating your 11-year-old boys and girls against HPV today to eradicate this cancer-causing virus.

A Glass Half Full

Yesterday marked the beginning of cycle number six for my third-line chemotherapy treatment. In this regimen, one full cycle is comprised of four weeks. During week one, two different chemotherapeutics (carboplatin and paclitaxel) are given along with the requisite premedication (steroid, anti-nausea meds, and an antihistamine). During both the second and third weeks of a cycle, I receive only one chemotherapeutic (paclitaxel) and the same premeds. Week four is a holiday/break, with no scheduled treatment that helps provide recovery time for blood counts and other markers. Then the four-week cycle repeats.

Lorie and Michael Becker in the chemotherapy suite at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center on 12/5/17

Having received five cycles over the past five months, my blood counts are slower to recover – particularly my white blood cells. As a result, my medical oncologist (Dr. David Pfister at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC)) modified the last treatment to forgo the third week of chemo since that is usually about the time that my white blood cells are on the low side. In other words, the most recent two cycles of treatment have been “two weeks on, two weeks off” meaning that I get two chemotherapeutics (carboplatin and paclitaxel) on week one, only paclitaxel on week two and then a two-week break during weeks three and four before starting the cycle over again.

Considering that the latest 2/5 cycles have been reduced in terms of the total amount of chemo I’m receiving, it is encouraging to see that each CT scan still shows decreases in the size of some tumors. For example, take the largest tumor (on my spleen) that originally measured 6.4 cm on its longest axis and 6.0 cm on its shortest axis back in early January 2017. Since starting third-line chemo over the summer, those dimensions have decreased on each subsequent CT scan: 5.4 x 4.8 cm, 3.2 x 2.6 cm and most recently 2.9 x 2.0 cm. Many other lymph nodes in my lungs and abdomen are also now 1 cm x 1 cm or smaller, which is typically the size of a “normal” lymph node—although PET imaging would help inform whether or not there is still disease activity.

But just exactly how unusual or encouraging is all of this? During the MSKCC appointment, I gathered that the general expectation would have been decreased disease from the first treatment cycle, perhaps stable disease on the second cycle and then possibly progressive disease on the third or later cycles. Bottom line: my cancer continued to decrease across all three recent scans, which is better than normally expected.

I’m happy about the results and extremely thankful that I received strong encouragement to give chemotherapy another chance. And it’s not just about tumors shrinking, there have also been meaningful improvements in my quality of life. For instance, at the start of chemotherapy I had not one but two chest tubes placed to help reduce fluid around my left lung. Both have since been removed, as the fluid buildup is gone. Associated side effects with the fluid, such as coughing and difficulty breathing have also disappeared. Oh, and it is a lot easier to shower without wrapping your chest and abdomen in plastic wrap each time to avoid water getting into the tubes!

I’m a curious person by nature and seeking potential answers as to “why” my disease is responding a bit better than expected to the current chemo regimen. As a long-time champion of immunotherapy, I can’t help but wonder about my prior second-line therapy with M7824, an experimental bispecific fully human antibody designed to simultaneously block two immuno-inhibitory pathways (both PD-L1 and TGF-β) that are commonly used by cancer cells to evade the immune system. The aim of this investigational drug is to control tumor growth by restoring and enhancing anti-tumor immune responses.

While receiving M7824 at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) as a participant in their Phase I trial, results from biopsies of both my tumor and pleural fluid provided evidence of immune system activation in the vicinity of the tumor, indicating that the experimental agent M7824 was performing as designed. In particular, the presence of tumor-reactive CD8-positive T-cells, which have emerged as the predominant effector in most cancer immunotherapy settings[1]. In fact, one published study in head and neck cancer patients whose tumors were densely infiltrated by CD3-positive and CD8-positive T cells had a significantly longer overall survival (OS) and progression-free survival (PFS) compared with patients whose tumors were poorly infiltrated[2].

It’s quite possible that based on the large tumor burden in my body, the immune system activation resulting from M7824 might not have been able to overpower the disease. However, with my tumor burden now having decreased substantially through subsequent chemotherapy, I can’t help but wonder if M7824 could be playing a role in my ongoing disease improvement.

While answering this question is purely academic, it could help inform the design of future combination studies with M7824 and chemotherapy. From a personal perspective, it would also validate that I made the right decision to jump into the M7824 trial after failing first-line therapy (chemoradiation).

As someone with no formal medical training, my initial thought was to have the largest, most accessible tumor biopsied to look for residual immune system activation. Unfortunately, the largest remaining tumor is on my spleen and my oncologist frowned on the prospects of poking needles around that area. A good to time to remind readers that while I have a fair amount of working knowledge in biotech, I always rely upon the wisdom and experience of the treating physician. They’ve gone to med school…I have not.

But I do feel it is very important, to the full extent possible and without substantial added risk to me, to find some signal—even if anecdotal—that M7824 did something good. For my friends in the medical community, please feel free to email me any ideas or thoughts!

References:

[1] Targeting CD8+ T-cell tolerance for cancer immunotherapy. Stephanie R Jackson, Jinyun Yuan, and Ryan M Teague. Immunotherapy. 2014 Jul; 6(7): 833–852.

[2] Tumour-infiltrating lymphocytes predict response to definitive chemoradiotherapy in head and neck cancer. P Balermpas, Y Michel, J Wagenblast, O Seitz, C Weiss, F Rödel, C Rödel and E Fokas. British Journal of Cancer (2014) 110, 501–509. doi:10.1038/bjc.2013.640

Good Luck Charm?

It was July 18, 2017 when I started my third line of treatment (carboplatin/paclitaxel) for Stage IV squamous cell carcinoma of the head and neck. Things weren’t exactly going great at the time and I remember thinking that I wouldn’t make it until my 49th birthday in November.

For example, I had two chest tubes to manage a pleural effusion (buildup of fluid in the pleural lining of the lung). My tumors were slowly growing with each CT scan. Additionally, I had an IVC filter put in to manage clots since blood thinners had caused bleeding issues. I was a mess and in-and-out of the hospital constantly.

Earlier today, however, I received my third consecutive CT scan report since starting chemo again that showed further decreases in my lung, spleen, and pleural metastases (where the cancer had spread). It looks as though the cancer continues to respond to the treatment, which is great news.

It just goes to show the perils of trying to answer the question every cancer patient wants to know: How much more time do I have left? It doesn’t stop us from asking physicians, but as a dear friend consistently points out to me – you just have to live in the moment and enjoy every day. Much easier said than done, but sage advice nonetheless.

Our pup Humphrey

I can’t help but wonder if our 8-month old golden retriever puppy, Humphrey, is perhaps some kind of good luck charm? We got him about a month before I started treatment and things have been going relatively well since then. Not that we need another reason to love him! He’s such a clown, always making us laugh and smile. We love all of our other pets too, but there’s just something about Humphrey that makes him special. At the very least, he’s a great therapy dog for me.

In any event, today is a very good day. It will be nice to bask in the warmth of some good news as the colder weather of the season approaches.

Two Years Gone

You’ll know from the opening pages of my memoir A Walk with Purpose that it was the day before Thanksgiving in 2015 when I first discovered a large lump on the right side of my neck. The discovery catapulted me on a journey that I never could have imagined, full of twists and turns and changing the very fiber of my being—physically, emotionally and spiritually.

A lot has changed in the past two years—some good, some bad, some perhaps downright ugly. But Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays—a time of reflection and giving thanks for the goodness of the season past instead of complaining about what we don’t have.

Throughout the process of writing my memoir, I was constantly amazed to see how all the gifts and experiences of this world came together like tiny puzzle pieces to reveal the bigger purpose of my life. In particular, how an unlikely career path to the biotechnology industry would help forge key relationships, open new doors, and help me navigate a cancer diagnosis and treatment through the knowledge gained over decades of service and leadership. Most importantly, how I could use all of the aforementioned to help others facing head and neck cancer caused by the human papillomavirus (HPV).

In some ways, my revelation was reminiscent of the first time I saw the movie Signs written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan. In the movie, a father and former priest lives with his asthmatic son, his daughter who constantly leaves glasses of water sitting out around the house, and his younger brother, a failed minor league baseball player, on an isolated farm in Bucks County, Pennsylvania (coincidentally where we have lived for more than 15-years…). The father lost his faith and gave up his priesthood after his wife died in a local traffic accident. Towards the end of the movie, a crucial scene reveals the unlikely connection between asthma, glasses of water, and the mother’s final words to her husband instructing his brother to “swing away.” At the end of the movie, the father is shown returning to his priestly duties, apparently having regained his faith.

During 2017, I was fortunate to write and publish (then rewrite and republish…) my memoir. Since my diagnosis, I’ve also published a total of 70 posts (gulp!) on my patient blog. Supporting these efforts, I’ve worked with a publicist and conducted numerous interviews and penned guest editorials for various media outlets. All of these actions designed to: 1) help increase awareness of HPV and its link to six cancers in men and women; 2) underscore the need for additional prevention efforts for HPV-associated cancers, including efforts to increase vaccination coverage; 3) correct the misperception that HPV is mainly a disease affecting women; and, 4) highlight how HPV can be spread in the fluids of the mucosal membranes, which line the mouth, throat and genital tracts. Looking back at my efforts, I hope you’ll agree it has been a productive year.

I’m currently going through my third treatment regimen (chemotherapy) with the simple hope of buying more time. My body is weary from repeated assault with toxic chemicals aimed to keep the cancer at bay—hoping to see the day when a better treatment option becomes available. Fortunately, my current quality of life allows me to continue my walk with purpose. In fact, today I am doing a couple of media interviews and meeting with a head and neck cancer patient support group in Princeton, New Jersey.

My next CT scan has been scheduled for the last week of November. The results of which will inform whether or not my cancer continues to shrink, stays stable, or is progressing. Regardless of the outcome, I strive to simply live in the moment and take advantage of the Thanksgiving period to consider how we can spread more happiness around, to look back at all the great memories and good people who came into our lives.

May the good things of life be yours in abundance not only during November but throughout the coming year. Thank you to everyone with an interest in my story for your continued support and for keeping in touch!

The Role of Social Media in Cancer Care

Possibly due to my early days of computer programming and/or work creating one of the first brokerage firm websites, I recognized very early on the power of the Internet to connect people. When I first started my cancer patient blog in December 2015, it was mainly an efficient tool for me to keep family and friends updated on my health. However, I quickly realized that social media (e.g., Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, blogging) also afforded me the opportunity to provide unprecedented access to my personal experience as a terminal cancer patient. In doing so, I felt that my insight could be beneficial to others dealing with a head/neck cancer diagnosis and the effects of treatment. Importantly, I hoped that sharing my story could also help create awareness for the cause of my cancer (human papillomavirus, or HPV) and how today’s vaccines can prevent it.

Writing about my cancer experience is cathartic and that alone made all of the blog posts, Tweets, Instagram images, and Facebook entries seem worthwhile. What I didn’t expect was how my social media activities actually helped me deal with my own cancer diagnosis. Accordingly, the purpose of this blog post is to highlight some of these interactions with the hope that other cancer survivors find similar ways to derive benefits from social media.

For example, some people have a talent for making new friends. Unfortunately, not everyone is born with the gift—including me (yes, it’s true). Some side-effects associated with cancer and its treatment make this situation even more difficult. Being fatigued and depressed can lead to a lot of time being secluded in one’s own home—not working and feeling isolated and alone. The ability to meet new people and establish relationships can be enhanced through social media and other Internet activities.

In this regard, I’ve been fortunate to have met several Twitter acquaintances during their visits to the East Coast from as far as Buenos Aires, Argentina (@BursatilBiotech), the Pacific Northwest (@SheffStation), and Lenexa, Kansas (@bradloncar). Meeting individuals in person was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise in view of today’s digital communication era. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that our family’s latest animal addition, a golden retriever puppy named Humphrey, has attracted his own cult following on social media.

Lorie and Michael Becker – click to enlarge (photograph by Paul Reitano)

In late September 2017, I received an unsolicited email from fellow head/neck cancer survivor Paul Reitano. His surgical oncologist had posted a story about me on Facebook that led him to both my book and blog. Beyond our shared cancer background, we both enjoy photography and Paul wanted to include me in his personal project regarding portraits of cancer survivors. We set a date for early October when he was in town and spent the better part of a beautiful autumn day talking about common interests as he clicked the shutter on his camera. By late afternoon, we were like old friends even though we had just met. Among many excellent captures, Paul took a beautiful photo of me and my wife, Lorie, that we treasure. Aside from an array of gorgeous photos, Paul and I keep in touch and it has been great to have another head/neck cancer survivor in my life.

More recently, I had the pleasure of connecting with another head/neck cancer survivor, Jason Mendelsohn, through social media. Jason was recently the subject of a NBC news segment reporting on the silent epidemic of HPV-related cancers among men. Like me, Jason is determined to help others by sharing his story and experience through his blog.

Another unexpected benefit from social media is the support from reporters and related contacts I’ve developed throughout my career or who have recently covered my cancer story. One of the more memorable experiences was when @adamfeuerstein dedicated his 2017 Pan-Mass Challenge (PMC) ride to me as a token of his support over the summer. PMC raises money for life-saving cancer research and treatment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute through an annual bike-a-thon that crosses the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Through social media, I’ve also been fortunate to make several new media connections, such as @BiotechSusan, editor of BioCentury, and @JohnCendpts, co-founder of Endpoints News, among many others.

Social media can also be a means for health education and public messaging. Through Tweets and sharing articles, I’ve enjoyed being able to help correct the popular misconception that HPV vaccination is only for girls and cervical cancer. Creating awareness about HPV’s link to six different cancers and the proven safety/benefits of HPV vaccination for both boys and girls is one of my personal goals, which has been enhanced through my participation in social media.

The role for social media in cancer care is embryonic and evolving, but my experience thus far suggests that there are many potential benefits. There are, of course, certain challenges, not the least of which includes the potential for sharing inaccurate medical information and the lack of privacy and confidentiality when discussing deeply personal situations.

As an example of both, one need look no further than Michael Douglas’ revelation in 2013 that his cancer may have been caused by performing oral sex has and the resulting embarrassment caused to his wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones. In fact, only a few studies have looked at how people get oral HPV, and some show conflicting results. Some studies suggest that oral HPV may be passed on during oral sex (from mouth-to-genital or mouth-to-anus contact) or open-mouthed kissing; others do not. The likelihood of getting HPV from kissing or having oral sex with someone who has HPV is not known. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), more research is needed to understand exactly how people get and give oral HPV infections.

Perhaps the world just wasn’t ready to hear about the links between oral sex, HPV and head/neck cancer at the time, but fast forward to today and Michael Douglas’ story may have helped create greater awareness and a sense of urgency to better treat and prevent what is becoming the one type of oral cancer whose numbers are climbing, especially among men in the prime of their lives. The world could use more support from celebrities affected by HPV and cancer to further increase awareness and/or raise research funds for new treatments and diagnostics.

In view of growing use, researching and defining the role for social media in cancer care represents an important area of unmet need. Certainly, this is a subject that merits further investigation and could be an interesting workshop at an upcoming major medical conference, such as the American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO) annual meeting. In the meantime, thank you to ALL of my social media connections who help make the world seem a bit smaller and a whole lot brighter!

Honestly, Not Such a Good Friday

This past Wednesday, I had a thoracentesis procedure in which a needle was inserted into the pleural space between my lungs and chest wall. This procedure was done to remove excess fluid, known as a pleural effusion, from the pleural space to help me breathe easier.

Michael Becker blogging from his laptop at NIH on April 15, 2017

During the procedure, Dr. Elliot Levy, an interventional radiologists at NIH trained in radiology and minimally invasive procedures, drained 1.5 liters from the pleural space. Almost immediately, I felt better and even while I was being wheeled back to my recovery room, I asked my wife Lorie to grab me a turkey sandwich from the cafeteria as I was quite hungry. It’s possible the large amount of fluid on my left side was putting some pressure on my stomach, which could help explain why I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.

By Thursday, however, the fluid was returning, prompting yet another thoracentesis procedure on Friday to remove 1.5 liters of fluid. The rapid nature of the fluid buildup means that I will most likely have an Aspira® drainage system surgically installed to conveniently let me drain the fluid buildup at home via a small catheter and drainage bags. That procedure is planned for Monday, so I have been staying at NIH since Wednesday and will be here over the weekend.

More importantly, however, a CT scan was also done on Friday morning with disappointing results. The cancer nodules grew since the last CT scan on March 7, 2017. This reflects true disease progression as opposed to “pseudo-progression” as discussed in a prior post. I have been taken off the clinical study with M7824.

My individual results do not reflect poorly on the future of M7824, but rather underscore that we still have a lot to learn about immunotherapy and cancer. While I may not have benefited from the drug, the resulting knowledge and clinical data may help guide future development and I am proud to play a part in that process.

At this point, if I received no further treatment and went on hospice, my likely survival would be about two months – although every patient is different. I have scheduled an appointment with my oncologist at MSKCC to discuss the pros and cons of chemotherapy at this stage, but the balance between quality of life and quantity of life is not trivial and I haven’t made a firm decision to go in this direction. Chemotherapy may only add a month or two of survival with a negative impact on my quality of life.

While I have been very open about my disease since originally being diagnosed in December 2015 and enjoy blogging, I will now be focusing much more time with my wife and daughters and finishing up my memoir, which I hope to have published. This will unfortunately mean less time for updating this blog and responding to emails.

Thank you to everyone who has offered their best wishes, thoughts, and prayers during my cancer journey. Having such an amazing support network of family, friends, and social media contacts has been a great source of strength and inspiration. Special thanks to my wife, Lorie, who has been by my side the entire time.

If you’ll indulge me, I would like to end this post with three requests:

  1. If you have a son or daughter, please talk to your doctor about the HPV vaccine, which protects against cancer of the cervix, vagina, and vulva in women; penis in men; and cancers of the anus and head/neck (including the base of the tongue and tonsils) in both men and women. HPV is a very common virus; nearly 80 million people are currently infected in the United States. About 14 million people, including teens, become infected with HPV each year, resulting in 30,700 cancers in men and women. HPV vaccination can prevent most of the cancers (about 28,000) from occurring.
  2. Help preserve federal funding levels by communicating with lawmakers about the critical importance of investing in medical research. There are far too many people suffering from cancer and this is not the time to cut the budget for the National Institutes of Health (NIH) by 18.3 percent, about $5.8 billion, as has been proposed. In an Op Ed by Harold Varmus appearing in the New York Times on March 22, 2017, he states that  only about 10 percent of the NIH’s budget supports the work of government scientists and that “over 80 percent of its resources are devoted to competitively reviewed biomedical research projects, training programs and science centers, affecting nearly every district in the country.” Harold Varmus, a professor at Weill Cornell Medicine and a co-recipient of the 1989 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, was the director of the National Institutes of Health from 1993 to 1999 and of the National Cancer Institute from 2010 to 2015.
  3. If you or someone you know is battling cancer or another disease, please talk to a physician about available clinical trial options. Clinical trials are a key research tool for advancing medical knowledge and patient care. Such trials are important to learn whether or not a new approach works well in people and is safe and which treatments or strategies work best for certain illnesses or groups of people.

Week Nine Just Fine

This is week #9 on clinical study, as I received my infusion of M7824 yesterday as planned. All of my pre-therapy vitals and bloodwork came back fine, which meant the treatment was a go. As with previous infusions, there were no issues during or after. Everything went just fine.

It was unfortunately a later night than expected, as Lorie and I just missed our 7:30pm train and had to catch one leaving the next hour. So, we ended up walking in the door at home around midnight. Could always be worse!

Following the discussion in my past few blog posts, I’ve been learning more about the concept of “pseudoprogression,” or the apparent growth of a tumor followed by sustained regression, which is common following treatment with checkpoint inhibitors. For example, I came across the video clip below by OncLiveTV that contains a discussion of “Pseudoprogression With Checkpoint Inhibitors in Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer,” where panelists explore the implications of this phenomenon for patients with NSCLC. While I do not have NSCLC, the overall concept of pseudoprogression with checkpoint inhibitors is relevant to my treatment and latest scan results – whereby the tumor growth exhibited could be from inflammation due to an ongoing positive immune response, or from an actual increase in the tumor that continues until the body’s immune system overpowers the cancer. It could also be a combination of the aforementioned. In any event, I think that pseudoprogression is an important concept for patients receiving some immunotherapies to better understand – especially when getting imaging results following treatment.

 

PS – anyone who knows me, knows that I’m a big Chicago Cubs baseball fan (having grown up in Chicago)…so I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you to keep voting for retired catcher David Ross on this season’s ‘Dancing with the Stars’. In case you missed his debut performance, here’s a clip where he danced to Steve Goodman’s “Go Cubs Go” – while wearing Cubs gear.

Keeping the Faith with M7824

As evidenced by the extensive discussions following my biopsy from last Friday, a tumor is indeed a very complex structure. It comprises cancer cells and stromal cells, tumor infiltrating cells—both cells of the immune system and cells not by convention being of the immune system, as well as an extracellular matrix mainly of proteins and carbohydrates.

Following my recent CT scan, the hope from obtaining core biopsies from one of my lung nodules was to get a better sense of the cancer at a cellular level, which may help shed some light on whether or not treatment with M7824, a completely novel, first-in-class, bispecific fusion protein is working (see prior posts for more details).

In particular, the presence of immune system cells (T cells, or T lymphocytes) in tumor biopsies and their potential impact on prognosis have been studied for decades. T cells are a type of white blood cell that circulate around our bodies, scanning for cellular abnormalities and infections. Broadly speaking they can be divided into two different types, “killer” CD8-positive T-cells and “helper” CD4-positive T-cells. CD8-positive T cells are critical mediators of adaptive immunity. They include cytotoxic T cells, which are important for killing cancerous or virally infected cells, and CD8-positive suppressor T cells, which restrain certain types of immune response.

Despite contributions by other immune cell subsets, CD8-positive T cells have emerged as the predominant effector in most cancer immunotherapy settings¹. Accordingly, many immunotherapeutic strategies (including checkpoint inhibitors, such as anti-CTLA4, PD1, and PD-L1 antibodies) are dedicated to stimulating, enhancing and maintaining responses by tumor-reactive CD8-positive T-cells.

Favorable outcomes have been demonstrated in patients where high numbers of CD8-positive cells were found at the tumor site in patients with head and neck cancer, breast, colorectal cancer and also for others solid cancers. In one study, head and neck cancer patients whose tumors were densely infiltrated by CD3-positive and CD8-positive T cells had a significantly longer overall survival (OS) and progression-free survival (PFS) compared with patients whose tumors were poorly infiltrated².

While there seems to be a consensus that CD8 infiltration is a good prognostic marker in most malignancies analyzed, however, the impact of CD8-positive T cells on clinical outcome may differ and is difficult to quantify. Not only is the type of T cell important, but also its location, and moreover the specific phenotype and function of those cells in the particular environment.

Nonetheless, based on the preliminary results from my recent tumor biopsy and other factors, it appears that there is sufficient evidence of immune system activation in the vicinity of the tumor to indicate that the experimental agent M7824 may indeed be performing as we hoped. Accordingly, I am in 100% agreement with my doctor’s recommendation to continue on the therapy and will receive my next infusion this coming Tuesday at NIH. After a few more cycles of therapy, another CT scan will be taken in the future with the hope of demonstrating that the recent tumor growth was from treatment effect “pseudo-progression” rather than true disease progression, which has been previously described with immune checkpoint inhibitors like M7824.

References:

¹ Targeting CD8+ T-cell tolerance for cancer immunotherapy. Stephanie R Jackson, Jinyun Yuan, and Ryan M Teague. Immunotherapy. 2014 Jul; 6(7): 833–852.

² Tumour-infiltrating lymphocytes predict response to definitive chemoradiotherapy in head and neck cancer. P Balermpas, Y Michel, J Wagenblast, O Seitz, C Weiss, F Rödel, C Rödel and E Fokas. British Journal of Cancer (2014) 110, 501–509. doi:10.1038/bjc.2013.640

 

 

 

Not as We Had Hoped

The results of today’s CT imaging procedure were not as we had hoped. Ideally, the dozen or so tumors in my lungs would have shown signs of shrinkage – indicating that the investigational drug was having a positive effect on the cancer. Instead, several of the tumors actually increased in size and a new spot even appeared in my spleen.

One of the hallmarks of immunotherapy, such as the checkpoint inhibitors, is the potential for a “delayed” response, which is not routinely seen with chemotherapy or other cytotoxic agents. Another biologic phenomenon unique to immunotherapy is “pseudoprogression,” or the initial radiologic appearance of an increase in tumor burden subsequently followed by tumor regression¹.

The CT imaging study cannot distinguish between cancer progression or inflammation as the reason for the increase in tumor size, so there is a chance that it’s due to inflammation and subsequent imaging tests in a month could demonstrate a reversal. However, it is also possible that the cancer isn’t responding to the investigational treatment.

To get more details, I’m undergoing a biopsy this Friday so that one of the lung tumors can be sampled. The preliminary information from that biopsy, which should be available next week, will help guide between cancer progression and inflammation. Decisions regarding how to proceed will depend on that outcome.

Needless to say, everyone’s hope was to have seen some sign of cancer regression on today’s CT scan and many teardrops were shed. The chances for a favorable outcome have diminished and must be acknowledged, but for now I’m persevering and will evaluate next steps following the biopsy results.

Sincere thanks to everyone who has offered their positive thoughts, prayers, and support. It is difficult to respond to each and every communication, but please know that I read “everything” and your time and effort is greatly appreciated. Special thanks to everyone at NIH for being so wonderful — even when faced with delivering bad news.

Now, more than ever, please keep all those positive vibes coming my way.

References:
¹ Amidst the excitement: A cautionary tale of immunotherapy, pseudoprogression and head and neck squamous cell carcinoma. Baxi SS, Dunn LA, Burtness BA.
Oral Oncol. 2016 Nov;62:147-148. doi: 10.1016/j.oraloncology.2016.10.007. Epub 2016 Oct 21.

Positive Mental Attitude (PMA)

Monday evening, my wife Lorie and I traveled to Bethesda, MD in advance of my third infusion with M7824, a completely novel, first-in-class, bispecific fusion protein (see prior posts for more details). However, this was my first time being infused as an outpatient in the day hospital, as prior infusions required a short stay in the hospital for blood work, observation, etc. As with the first two infusions, everything went smoothly yesterday, with no adverse reactions during or following treatment. We caught a 9pm train home and were in bed by 12:30am ET.

image
Caught sleeping on the Amtrak train ride home by Lorie on February 21, 2017. Long day!

As I posted on social media throughout the day while at the NIH, I was truly humbled by the outpour of support – especially hearing from people I haven’t seen in years or decades. Amid the sea of political rants and opinions via these channels, it was nice to be reminded that social media can be a positive experience. Throughout the emails, Tweets, and posts, a lot of people remarked that I sound and appear “surprisingly positive” and “happy.” And truth be told – they’re RIGHT.

Sure, I have advanced cancer – and I’m not Pollyanna about what the future may have in store for me as a result. But, I was very fortunate to participate in a clinical study with a quite promising, investigational immunotherapy that has, so far, had no negative impact on my day-to-day quality of life. That is a very stark contrast from what I experienced after going through chemoradiation. While the outcome is far from certain, participating in this clinical study has given me every reason to “hope” that the therapy will work. And it is that hope that gets me up in the morning…smiling…ready to face the new day.

Michael D. Becker receiving IV infusion with M7824 - a novel, first-in-class, bispecific fusion protein
Michael D. Becker receiving his third IV infusion with M7824 – a novel, first-in-class, bispecific fusion protein on February 21, 2017

If anything has changed recently, it has been for the better. I’m now focusing my existing time and energy where I want, and it has been liberating. Death is always knocking on our doors, but it isn’t until the sound becomes louder later in life that you discover new priorities and sense of urgency. In this regard, I’ve started writing my memoir covering a +20-year biotechnology career and have been working with an amazing editor. I always enjoyed writing blogs and newsletters, but Lorie strongly encouraged me to finally write a book and it has been quite rewarding thus far. My goal is to get it done by late summer or so (30,000 words so far…), and I will definitely let everyone know more details via this blog as the project advances. I also recently started a coffee table book project to showcase my photography work over the past few years, with approximately 200 images selected and a draft layout complete. To fund the latter, I plan on launching a KickStarter campaign to finish the design and secure a larger order to reduce the per unit cost. And most importantly, through my disease openness and this patient blog, I’m exploring numerous opportunities to help raise awareness for currently available vaccines that can protect boys and girls against human papillomavirus (HPV) subtypes that most commonly cause anal, cervical, oropharyngeal, penile, vaginal, and vulvar cancers.

So, yes…I’m a cancer survivor and I’m positive because I have “hope” and will continue until life shows me otherwise. Inspired? Good…that’s my goal!

Finally, special thanks to everyone for the thoughts, gifts and support. Hearing from people I haven’t seen in years has also been amazing. A truly humbling experience and greatly appreciated.

Round Two

It’s been two weeks since my last blog update, so I thought it was about time for a status report.

Earlier today I had my periodic clinic evaluation at the NIH following last Wednesday’s second infusion of M7824. Recall M7824 is a completely novel, first-in-class, bispecific fusion protein of an avelumab-like antibody linked to two molecules of TGF-beta trap (see prior posts for more details). At 22 days into this Phase 1 study, I’m still feeling good and haven’t experienced any side effects. Blood work, vitals, etc. all okay.

Michael and Lorie Becker; Valentine's Day 2017
Michael and Lorie Becker; Valentine’s Day 2017

It was a quick roundtrip between home and the NIH today, which allows me to be back home to spend dinner with my Valentine, wife, best friend and birthday girl (ps – all the same person). Before I headed out for my appointment in the morning, we had a few minutes to exchange cards and snap a quick photo (see right).

I’m now done with the inpatient infusions for the study, so my next dose will be administered one week from today and I can go home afterwards. Here’s hoping for more, completely uneventful updates in the coming weeks!

 

Feelin’ Alright

Standing on the train platform this morning on my way to NYC, the late British rocker Joe Cocker’s version of Feelin’ Alright was playing over the sound system. Not only a good song to start the daily commute, it seemed an appropriate theme for this blog post.

It was exactly one week ago today that I received my first infusion of an experimental cancer immunotherapy agent, called M7824, as part of a Phase 1 clinical trial at the National Institutes of Health (NIH). Recall from my prior post that M7824 is a completely novel, first-in-class, bispecific fusion protein of an avelumab-like antibody linked to two molecules of TGF-beta trap. While very early in the process, I’m happy to report that so far I’m feelin’ alright.

As someone who has received three cycles of chemotherapy and a total radiation dose of 70 Gray over seven weeks, I can say with conviction that, so far, being treated with an immunotherapy agent has been a proverbial walk in the park. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that this clinical study is not placebo controlled, I would seriously question whether or not I was in the active arm of the study.

For example, in contrast to chemotherapy and radiation, I haven’t experienced any of the hallmarks of traditional cancer therapy, such as nausea or fatigue, with the experimental immunotherapy agent. Important to note, however, every drug has side effects and checkpoint inhibitors like M7824 are associated with their own unique spectrum of immune-related adverse events. These include dermatologic, gastrointestinal, hepatic, endocrine, and other less common inflammatory events. In some cases, these side effects can be managed with corticosteroids or diphenhydramine. Less frequently, clearly defined autoimmune systemic diseases, such as lupus, have been reported.

In fact, approximately 30-40% of patients treated with approved PD-1/PD-L1 checkpoint inhibitors (nivolumab/pembrolizumab) will have dermatologic complications. For most patients, dermatologic toxicity is the earliest immune-related adverse event experienced, with onset an average of 3.6 weeks after treatment initiation¹. Accordingly, it may be too early for me to be experiencing any such side effects.

Of course, having a “safe” drug is important – but for me, the real hope is that M7824 is effective in treating my recurrent disease. In this regard, in an interview with EP Vantage earlier this month, Luciano Rossetti, Merck KGaA’s head of R&D, told EP Vantage that M7824 is “the most exciting clinical asset in our pipeline right now” adding that it has yielded “spectacular” early data. You can read the full interview by clicking here.

I remain hopeful and strongly believe that my generation could be among the last to experience toxic upfront treatments like chemotherapy and radiation thanks to the many advances being made with immunotherapy.

References:

¹ Source: http://www.uptodate.com/contents/toxicities-associated-with-checkpoint-inhibitor-immunotherapy