Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Cure Today Magazine: Treatment Advances in Sarcoma

Bookmarking this article from CureToday magazine. Hopefully, more and more advances in Sarcoma treatments will be available soon.

Here's a link to the article. And posting the full text below (mainly for me to re-read in the future):


Group Therapy: Treatment Advances in Sarcoma
BY HEATHER L. VAN EPPS, PHD
PUBLISHED MARCH 12, 2013

Soft tissue sarcoma has benefited from research in other cancers.

In 1991, 34-year-old Gina Lamons received a diagnosis of synovial sarcoma and was told that the prognosis for survival was five years. By 1994, her disease had metastasized to her chest and lungs. Now 56, Lamons has long outlived her initial prognosis and the statistical odds due to multiple surgeries, numerous rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, and participation in a clinical trial.

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After decades of dealing with metastatic disease, Lamons’ options have become increasingly limited. She completed seven cycles of a 14-day continuous infusion of ifosfamide in July 2012 and was then placed on Votrient (pazopanib) that August. Initially approved for kidney cancer, Votrient blocks the growth of blood vessels to the tumor, as well as certain proteins that promote cancer cell development, and is the only new drug approved for treating sarcoma in years.

In her first follow-up scan in November 2012, none of Lamons’ existing tumors had grown and no new ones had appeared. The scan report also noted there was a decrease in one of the metastatic

Gina Lamons has been dealing with sarcoma for more than two decades. Photo by Rob Snavely.




The Road to Diagnosis

Sarcomas are a diverse group of cancers that arise in the body’s supportive tissues, including bone, cartilage, fat, muscle and blood vessels. With roughly 14,000 new cases diagnosed each year, sarcomas are rare, accounting for approximately 1 percent of all cancers in adults. These tumors can be broadly divided into bone and soft tissue varieties, with soft tissue sarcomas (STS) further divided into more than 50 subtypes that get their names from the tissue of origin. Liposarcomas, for example, have malignant fat cells, and leiomyosarcomas have cancerous smooth muscle cells.

Although most cases have no known cause, the risk of developing certain sarcomas is slightly higher in people who have received radiation for other forms of cancer. Certain STS subtypes are also more prevalent in people with genetic disorders caused by mutations in genes that affect cell growth and death. For example, people with Li-Fraumeni syndrome, a rare disorder caused by mutations in the TP53 gene, have a greater incidence of STS along with several other malignancies. In addition, non-inheritable (acquired) mutations in the c-kit gene have been associated with a rare type of STS called gastrointestinal stromal tumor (GIST). These mutations provide clues to the causes of these rare cancers that can lead to better therapies in the future. As the most common early symptom of STS is a painless mass, patients are often unconcerned and delay seeking treatment. As a result, these tumors can grow very large or even metastasize by the time they’re diagnosed. Lamons’ initial symptom—pain in her right thigh—was unusual for STS. An initial X-ray revealed nothing. Physical therapy and pain relief efforts didn’t help. Eventually a lump appeared, and a magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) scan revealed a 6-centimeter mass.

In some cases, a close look at the tumor’s genetics can help clinch the diagnosis. Certain types of STS, including synovial sarcoma and rhabdomyosarcoma, often carry telltale abnormalities called translocations, genetic mix-ups that occur when pieces of one chromosome break off and fuse to another. As a result, rogue proteins can be formed that fuel uncontrolled cell growth.

Growth pathways that are activated as a result of translocations and mutations have revealed promising drug targets, many of which have been successfully disrupted in other types of cancer. However, tests to detect these genetic traits are not routinely performed, primarily because the cost is often not covered by insurance but also because genetic factors account for only a small percentage of cancers. Lamons’ tumor was tested in 2005 and did not demonstrate a translocation.

Evolution of Therapy

Initially, Lamons’ tumor was localized, and her surgeon was confident that he had removed the entire tumor with clean margins, sparing her from chemotherapy. “My diagnosis kind of went over my head,” she recalls. “I didn’t understand the gravity of it at the time. I just knew I didn’t want chemo because during that time I always heard about people dying from the treatment.”

Like Lamons, most patients with localized disease are treated with surgery, often in combination with radiation, an approach that results in an overall five-year survival rate of 50 to 60 percent. Some institutions also add adjuvant (post-surgery) chemotherapy to eliminate cancer cells that may have escaped into the bloodstream. But it’s debatable whether the benefits of chemotherapy in this setting outweigh the risks, as clinical trials have shown little, if any, effect.

My diagnosis kind of went over my head. I didn't understand the gravity of it at the time.

—Gina Lamons

Patients with metastatic STS who can’t be treated with surgery receive radiation or chemotherapy, and the go-to drugs are doxorubicin and ifosfamide. Other agents may prove more effective for certain STS subtypes though they are not curative for metastatic disease. New approaches and drugs are clearly needed, as these patients have a median overall survival of only about eight to 12 months, although this varies widely.

Lamons didn’t avoid chemotherapy for long. She developed a cough in 1994, and an X-ray showed a large mass in her mediastinum along with nodules in both lungs. After surgery to remove the lung masses, she received six cycles of the MAID (mesna, doxorubicin [Adriamycin], ifosfamide, dacarbazine) chemotherapy regimen, which she says was the most challenging of her treatments to date. Three years later, more lung masses appeared and were surgically removed followed by ifosfamide, which Lamons tolerated better, apart from extreme fatigue and nausea. “There were days that I couldn’t even lift my head off the pillow,” she recalls.

Efforts are under way to test new chemotherapy drugs as well as new versions and different combinations of existing ones. One example is palifosfamide, a new and presumably less toxic derivative of ifosfamide, which improved progression-free survival by more than three months in patients with metastatic STS when used as first-line and second-line therapy in combination with doxorubicin. But Kristy Weber, an oncologist who directs the Johns Hopkins Sarcoma Center in Baltimore, describes these new regimens as “tweaks” rather than big changes.

A promising new chemotherapy agent, TH-302, appears beneficial in early studies of patients with advanced STS. It hones in on the low-oxygen region at the center of tumors. “Most chemotherapy drugs can only get into the periphery of the tumor because that’s where the blood vessels [and thus oxygen] are,” explains Richard Riedel, an oncologist who is associate director of clinical research for the Duke Sarcoma Research Program at Duke Cancer Institute in Durham, N.C., where he leads a TH-302 trial.

[Find clinical trials in soft-tissue sarcoma]

Researchers believe another drug, Halaven (eribulin mesylate), already approved for breast cancer, jams up the cell’s division machinery in patients with certain STS subtypes. Both TH-302 and Halaven are currently being tested in large, international phase 3 trials; Riedel estimates that preliminary results for TH-302 will be available by mid-2014.

The DNA-damaging agent trabectedin is approved in many European countries for patients with advanced STS. The drug is still being tested in the U.S., but phase 2 trials showed some benefit, particularly in those with liposarcomas and leiomyosarcomas. Trabectedin is also being tested as a front-line treatment in comparison to doxorubicin in all patients with translocation-related, advanced STS and to dacarbazine in those with liposarcomas and leiomyosarcomas.

Surgical advances are not going to cure more people. At the end of the day, if we don't have better drugs, we're not going to make progress.

—Kristy Weber

Letting the Tumor Lead the Way

For many years, the repertoire of drugs used to treat sarcoma was notably lacking targeted agents, drugs that block the growth of cancer cells by targeting specific molecules that promote cell growth and survival. But things began to change in 2002, when the targeted drug Gleevec (imatinib), was approved for patients who have GIST and a c-kit gene mutation.

Gleevec is primarily used to treat chronic myeloid leukemia, where it works by inhibiting an enzyme activated by the mutant BCR-ABL gene. In GIST, Gleevec inhibits the similar c-kit enzyme that is activated in more than 80 percent of GIST tumors. “For the first time ever, we had an outstanding response in STS,” says Katherine Thornton, an oncologist at Johns Hopkins, “and this tipped off a whole new interest in studying sarcoma and targeted therapy.”

Four years later, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved a related drug, Sutent (sunitinib), for patients with GIST who failed to respond to Gleevec. In general, however, Gleevec and Sutent work poorly against other subtypes of STS. Lamons was treated with Gleevec in 2002 as a maintenance strategy, and her lung masses remained small and amenable to surgery for several years. But such “off-label” use often requires lengthy negotiations with insurance companies to cover the cost of these drugs, which haven’t yet passed the rigorous efficacy and safety tests required for an FDA approval in that indication.



After her cancer progressed in 2011, Gina Lamons switched to Votrient, a recently approved drug that inhibits blood vessel growth to the tumor. Photo by Rob Snavely.

By 2011, Lamons’ cancer had progressed further, and she had multiple nodules in her neck, requiring still more radiation and chemotherapy. Years of treatment had taken a toll on her body, and she needed a new approach. Fortunately, in April 2012, Votrient (pazopanib) was approved for treating her type of advanced STS, and her doctor suggested she try it. Votrient blocks the growth of blood vessels to the tumor by inhibiting the activation of the vascular endothelial growth factor (VEGF) receptor. Although she tolerated it well, her dose was reduced after she developed high blood pressure, a common side effect of the drug, and experienced frequent low white blood cell counts.

Other types of targeted agents being tested against advanced STS and bone sarcomas include Rapamune (sirolimus), Afinitor (everolimus) and Torisel (temsirolimus), all of which target a growth-promoting protein called mTOR. Avastin (bevacizumab), another VEGF receptor inhibitor, seems to work well in patients with angiosarcoma.

Some of the most promising drugs for STS block the insulin-like growth factor 1 (IGF1) receptor, which is activated in rhabdomyosarcomas and leiomyosarcomas. Unfortunately, many drug companies pulled back on development of anti-IGF1 agents (such as figitumumab) when larger clinical trials showed that they weren’t as effective in more prevalent cancers, such as breast and lung. “Even if they sold the drug to every kid with rhabdomyosarcoma on the planet, it wouldn’t budge their balance sheet,” says Paul Meyers, a pediatric oncologist specializing in sarcoma at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York. Indeed, the rarity of STS, as well as other rare or “orphan” cancers, means that it’s also a lower priority for funding agencies. “Even if we found a target and an agent that attacks that target, we fear that we would never attract the kind of resources needed to take that drug from pre-clinical testing all the way to an indication from the FDA,” Meyers says, noting the extraordinary expense of this process. The FDA is actively addressing this issue by funding clinical research on drugs used to treat orphan diseases and providing drug companies with financial incentives for the development of these agents.

Despite the considerable challenges, Meyers sees targeted drugs as the future of sarcoma therapy. “I think each one of these diseases is going to have a different point of attack,” he says, which will be revealed by the unique biology of each tumor.

Having battled recurrent disease for more than two decades, Lamons has witnessed the evolution of sarcoma therapy first-hand. She recalls thinking, “If only I can survive a little longer, perhaps there will be advancements in treatment where I can just take a pill. And, eventually, there was!” she says of Votrient. Lamons stays focused on the positive, hoping that Votrient will continue to work and that further advances in sarcoma treatment will stay one step ahead of her disease.




Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Mammogram Results Year 4 and Some Realizations

I received a Birads 1 Category yesterday. Of the 4 years that we've been monitoring my condition, this was a first time for me. I once received a Birads 2 but it often has been a Birads 3 category. And I thought that merits an entry here. BECAUSE even if they are never an indication that I am truly cured or that I am cancer-free, they give me more hope. Hope is something bankable for me. Something I can live with day in and out. 


Yesterday, while talking to my surgeon (who sometimes also ends up as my psychiatrist), I asked this long-time nagging question: 

"has there been anyone else after me?"

"yes, there were a couple. but of malignant nature? none after you"

I am that rare. Sometimes that realization is just overwhelming to bear. But I have to live with it. I am sure though that there has to be somebody else before me (if not after me). Someday, I hope to meet that somebody and exchange stories of our own amazing journeys. Hopefully, not anytime soon. As I would rather meet that somebody 10 or even 20 years from now. Because that would call for a major celebration, I'm sure (what with two rare people finally crossing paths?). For now, I continue celebrating every waking day. Because life is a gift we all should cherish.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Four


  • Due to the flurry of things and responsibiliies.I had to attend to I totally forgot that yesterday was my 4th cancerversary. I have been scared for 4 years already but the lessons that life changing event has taught me is more than enough compensation for losing a mere physical part. I keep on hoping and praying tho that no mother will ever go thru that same experience. But nevertheless mothers are born tough. They are made to withstand every trial and tribulations thrown their way. You just have to throw in a good support system in the mix and you will be fine. :) 

    For documentation's sake. Just copy pasting it here. 

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Routines

Today is one of those days. I come home with my arms looking like that of a junkie's. I have a nasty migraine to boot brought about by food deprivation having fasted for 12 hours (wonderful news from the lab though, I was advised I can now take a few sips of water while fasting since my veins tend to constrict even more when I'm dehydrated) I usually end up with a month's worth of fat and cholesterol because my hunger always points me towards that place reeking with burnt grease but yet smelled awfully tempting. I flush a month's worth of work out and healthy dieting again because my brain is just too clouded by hunger I ended up letting my nose decide for me. My brain is still alive though and it's telling me to move out and choose healthy. But my defenses are weak. I give in. I will worry about the consequence later. For now, I immerse myself in all this greasy glory.

Every 6 months or so, I have my blood chemistry checked (usually it's for Lipid profiling and SGPT count. some days, the doc would request for the complete set). In late 2010, I went to a Cardiologist because I have been feeling some on and off chest pain and that really bothered me. Turns out what I categorized to be pain was just a product of my imagination since my ECG showed nothing to be worried about. Well, it wasn't really that pain that you might be thinking. I didn't feel like I had a hollowblock sitting in my chest or anything. It was more like a pinch that lasted for 10 secs. Doc  tells me it could be heartburn but just to appease me, he ordered for a stress test and blood work. The stress test was normal. I even reached level 4 which according to the doctor who monitored my test wasn't really necessary and yet I passed it. I can even pass for an athlete they say, save for of course my hideous flabs. The blood work though didn't bring good news. I was High and Low in the wrong areas. So dear doc put me on medication for 1 month. That didn't work but it did lower the cholesterol a bit. I graduated to 2 months, then 3 months. My OB-Gyne however was not comfortable with me taking these meds. So we all agreed on a compromise. I faithfully watch my fat and sugar intake (read: AVOID AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE) and we'll stop the medicines. Well, I did not only promised to be religiously conscious of my diet but to exercise as well. Doc took my word and it has been almost a year since I stopped medicating.

I will know in 3 days if all my efforts have paid off. But so far, my lipid has not spiked since. It's not yet normal as normal can be BUT it is better. And I'm hoping for normal soon.

Apart from the blood tests today was also my routine sonomammogram. I saw a couple of new nodules earlier but I got a shoulder tap after the procedure somehow assuring me that they are most likely nothing to be worried about. BUT then again, you never know till you see the results. So I wait. Hopefully for good news.

For now...we do the waiting game. That I tell you is always the worst part of this whole routine.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Scanxiety, That Is What It's Called


source


Last March, I was told that CT Scans are going to be an annual thing for me. Initially (c. 2009), I thought it was just going to be something that I would be doing for 3 years (or 5 years tops probably) while we are monitoring for recurrences. But my doctor explained that due to the rarity of Phyllodes, scans are the only way we can ever catch recurrences and mets at the onset. By that, she went to confirm that it is going to be a lifetime thing. I don't really mind. I'm just glad (and very thankful) my current job gives me the opportunity to somehow afford this very costly procedure by providing me with a good health insurance coverage. 

Yes, I don't really mind doing this every year because I know how IMPORTANT this is for me. But the thing is -- this whole procedure scares the sh*t out of me. ALWAYS. Apart from [forever] hating that weird smell the minute I step into the hospital's radiology section (well, fact is i could never even get used to the disinfected smells of hospital what more in this part of it), what I hate most is getting that large dose of dye contrast into my small (yes, i'm still small! lol) body. You see, I am allergic to contrast agents and yet I usually get injected with 120-150cc's of this dreaded thing. The first 3 scans I had sent me puking my guts out. It left me overly traumatic. I only do this once a year but every time I sign the paperwork and get myself prepared for the procedure I'd almost always feel like I'm on the verge of a heart attack. And it doesn't help either that I have very small veins and it almost always takes the IV therapists at least 30mins to get the heplock insertions done because they had to re-do at least 3x and I'd usually end up with hematomas in my arms. And when the machine injects that dye unto my small veins, I can't tell you how painful it is. But I can tell you though that they leave my arms sore for days. I could see the veins change their colors from bluish to purplish and when they disappear I can only assume that's the time they're finally healed.

Oral Contrast Agent (it used to be barium, i forgot to ask if it's still the same since the texture has changed. This one was not that difficult to drink since it also tasted like mineral water)
Thank God for hospital staff that were trained well on bedside manners. They always sort of give me a certain degree of comfort. In the midst of my internal hysteria, the simple reassuring squeeze of my hand or shoulder from the nurses and the resident doctors somehow gives me a brief feeling of peace and turmoil resolution. It doesn't last long. But the breather helps. Tremendously. And so today, I'd like to offer this post [as a big, big thanks] to the doctors and nurses who heard my panic. Although, the last 2 scans that I had prior to today's turned out way better than the first 3, today's was sort of a milestone-r as well in the sense that it might just help me handle (emotionally) my future scans better. On my fourth scan (today was the 6th), one of the attending doctors opted to change the brand of the dye contrast (I'm now using the brand Iopamiro) to use on me and the puking stopped after that. I was still nauseous but it didn't send me throwing out whatever's left inside my stomach after fasting for 6 hours at least. I'm glad that doctor listened to me. One of the residents told me there's really no difference with regards to the composition of both brands they used on me except for the manufacturer but I'm just glad that helped addressed my issue. Now I need not worry about anaphylactic shocks (have I ever mentioned I eat paranoia for breakfast?). Today, the doctors added more padding to my assurance by giving me a dose of antihistamine and steriods. It's just an additional precaution they say. But you see my brain is just wired that way. The mere mention of the word precaution somehow pacifies it. So when I got inside the scan room (coming from an hour of restful sleep brought about by the wonderful Benadryl - no wonder they never sell it over the counter hehehe), I wasn't as clammy as before. And what used to be an hour long procedure was now shortened to half. I came out grinning from ear to ear. For a moment, I felt like I was a real winner. 

A few minutes before Benadryl sent me to lala-land.
I know that these concerns of mine are very trivial compared to those who went through cancer treatments. This morning was also an eye opener for me having interacted with 3 women who just finished their chemo and radiation treatments. I was actually sadder than happy today having met this women and seeing how cowardly I've behaved. I deeply apologize for that. But I just had to let this out. 

Next year, I will have to go through this again. The scanxiety might probably revisit me once again knowing that they always come in different forms (today was about vomits and anaphylactic shocks, next time it could be dreading the results who knows). But I hope I can deal with it even better knowing that today turned out great. The waiting for the results is altogether a different story but surviving today alone just makes me grateful for a lot of things. So again, thank you. THANK YOU. thank you. To all of you who told me I can do it.