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Patient ordeal reminds all of
research needs
by Holly
Auer
Post and
Courier
For months, Malia Heck complained of belly aches, of pain and itchiness
on the left side of her tiny body. All night long, she screamed in pain
each time she moved. At only 2-1/2 years old, she didn’t yet have the
words to describe her agony.
All the while, a tumor grew inside Malia’s spinal cord, burrowed
between her shoulder blades. By the time it was diagnosed, after a
four-month shuffle among different types of doctors, the cancer was
shaped like a pod, long and cylindrical. The surgery she would need to
excise the tumor carried huge risks: The toddler could be left
paralyzed or lose the ability to control her bladder and bowels.
Letitia Bolds, a first-year medical
student, prepares culture slides in the Developmental Neuro-Oncology
lab in MUSC’s Children’s Research Instititute in an effort to develop
techniques for defeating cancer cells that resist most forms of
treatment—on Sept. 11. She sees the potiential that the biomedical
research there “will turn into possible treatments for patients.”
photo by
Wade Spees/The Post and Courier
But she came out of the operation with only minor mobility issues—still
the same little girl, rushing to slip her feet into a new pair of
high-heeled Cinderella slippers. Then, less than a year later, the
tumor crept back. Another surgery, and this time a round of
chemotherapy. Radiation wasn’t an option because it would likely kill
off the healthy spinal cord nerves Malia would need as she grew.
Dan and Kara Heck, Malia’s parents, knew the treatments might not
banish the cancer forever, but they believed they were buying time. A
treatment, they hoped, existed somewhere out there, in test tubes and
potions destined to some day become lifesavers.
“We were putting her on this path hoping medical research would catch
up,” Dan Heck said.
So the family started searching. They called the American Cancer
Society. The National Institutes of Health. The Spinal Cord Tumor
Association. And nothing. No one, it seemed, was working on a real cure
for Malia’s illness.
The Hecks live in Hebron, Ky., near Cincinnati, but in the four years
since their daughter’s cancer diagnosis, they’ve cast their net wide in
pursuit of spinal cord tumor research. The foundation they set up,
Malia’s C.O.R.D. Foundation, has raised some $400,000 so far, and
they’re now funding work in the Medical University of South Carolina’s
Children’s Research Institute and at the Johns Hopkins University in
Baltimore, where Malia had surgery.
Scientists, doctors and students at MUSC aim to develop a treatment
using hyaluronan—a “bio goo” now widely used for eye surgeries,
treatment of arthritis and cosmetic purposes such as filling in
wrinkles—to attack the most resilient and resistant cells inside spinal
cord tumors. It’s thought that the treatment, when applied in the
cavity left behind after surgery to “debulk” the tumor, will turn off
the mechanisms that make those cells so hardy in the face of toxic
chemotherapy drugs.
It’s an ambitious and expensive project. Carrying the science all the
way to market—where it would be widely available to patients across the
nation—will require years of funding for basic science work in the
laboratory, plus money for clinical trials if the researchers get
promising results.
During the 2005 fiscal year, MUSC researchers pulled in more than $180
million in grants, which fund most of the work conducted in the
university’s labs—staff salaries, equipment, supplies and animals.
Nearly half the money came from the federal government, through the
National Institutes of Health. But in the wake of budget cuts to the
agency, the university lost $2 million in federal grants compared to
the previous year.
The news is even worse so far this year, and researchers across the
nation are feeling the pinch. Private foundations are increasingly
being called upon to fund research projects, and basic scientists
devote huge swaths of their time to writing grant proposals in hopes of
securing money to test their ideas.
Researchers in the developmental neuro-oncology lab where the spinal
cord tumor work is under way, for instance, have submitted more than 10
grants in recent months, some more than 100 pages long, said Jennie
Gilg, Ph.D., who manages the lab. To attack all aspects of their work,
labs generally must piece together several grants from different
sources, from small foundations such as Malia’s C.O.R.D. Foundation to
big government agencies such as the Department of Defense.
Pediatric neuro-oncologist Bernard Maria, M.D., serves as
executive director of the CRI and oversees the work of the
neuro-oncology researchers. He spends part of his week caring for sick
kids and brings that perspective back to researchers in the lab, who
say that the human reality of the microscopic work they’re doing is a
powerful motivator.
That’s because central nervous system tumors—those found in the brain
and spinal cord—are the leading cause of death from illness in
children. Unlike childhood leukemia, for instance, which once killed
most of its victims but now boasts an inspiring cure rate, doctors
haven’t cracked the code on how to do battle with many central nervous
system tumors.
When kids today present with those cancers, Maria said, he can look
forward on the calendar and be almost sure they will die by a certain
point. It’s maddening, and heartbreaking.
“To look into the eyes of a 7-year-old and know that it’s all over,
that’s hard,” Maria said. “And that means we haven’t done squat.”
So on the fourth floor of the CRI, which opened last year and houses
some of the university’s most spacious and newfangled labs, there is
work to be done.
Researchers in basic science laboratories are forever talking about
whether or not their experiments are “working” —that is, rolling along
according to the experiment’s hypothesis. Will it “work” and someday
lead to a treatment in real patients, or will it wind up a confounding
tangle of contradictory results?
Sandra Tye, a graduate student in the neuro-oncology lab, had some good
results in her rats—the treatment worked just as the researchers had
hoped—right out of the gate this year. But there are many steps left to
go, and she knows that no matter how skillfully she operates on each
tiny animal or how hard she works to keep them safe from infection, the
experiment might not go as planned.
An animal could die before the protocol ends or she could find some
sort of new and vexing cancer cell distribution in its spinal cord. Or
the cells could continue growing, out of control, even after being
injected with the treatment. Ultimately, the work is an uncertain mix
of skill, luck, and perhaps, sometimes, a little bit of magic.
“Sometimes, you get lucky and something works the first time,” Tye
said. “Sometimes, you really have to fiddle with it.”
Malia is 6 years old now, and she’s in remission. She’s the “queen of
the family,” and she adores reading and doing crafts. Still, her family
feels called to this cause, for all the kids who haven’t been as
fortunate. It will be slow going, they know, but there is much to
celebrate in even the tiniest steps toward a cure.
This article ran in the Sept.
13 issue of the Post and Courier and is reprinted with permission.
Demystifying
medical research with animal models
The following information was collected from the Foundation for
Biomedical Research to describe preclinical research in relation to the
transition from the laboratory to widespread patient use for
medications and therapies.
Recent scientific breakthroughs have led researchers closer to
discovering and implementing new treatments and cures for an abundance
of diseases affecting humans and animals. The process by which these
treatments and cures are developed is referred to as preclinical
research, or research that takes place prior to human trials for a
given medication or treatment. Preclinical research can be conducted in
vitro in an artificial environment like a Petri dish; or in vivo, which
requires the use of an animal model.
The natural progression of most medical research follows the testing of
a hypothesis first in an in vitro model, then an animal model, and
culminating in human clinical trials before a treatment or cure may be
distributed to a large patient population. This process takes years,
sometimes decades, to complete before a safe and effective conclusion
is reached. Animal preclinical research plays a vital role in that
process, because without the knowledge gained from in vivo trials, many
treatments or cures would take much longer to reach humans or never
make it to human testing at all. Scientific progress relies on animal
research in developing new treatments, because one cannot predict that
a medication is safe or effective in cultured cells or in a plastic
dish. Despite numerous efforts on behalf of scientists everywhere to
reduce the number of higher species used in research, to replace
animals with other models where possible, and to refine tests to ensure
the most humane conditions possible, sometimes it can be difficult to
reconcile human love and appreciation for animals and the essential
need for animal research. Part of that reconciliation involves knowing
that research animals are treated responsibly, ethically, and humanely
as possible.
From a researcher’s standpoint, treating the animal models inhumanely
would be counterproductive. Research could be halted, hampered or
discontinued if animals are not properly cared for, because mistreated
animals could negatively influence study results and impair the
development of valuable human treatments. For humane and scientific
reasons, MUSC researchers, like most researchers, are deeply concerned
about the condition of the animals they study. Poor care results in
unreliable research data. It is widely recognized that animals are an
indispensable component of scientific research, and researchers
recognize the moral and professional duty to provide them with the best
care and treatment possible.
Animal models provide invaluable and irreplaceable insight into human
systems due to the striking similarities between the genetic and
physiological systems of animals and humans. Medical advances often are
supplemented by non-animal methods, but these methods alone cannot tell
researchers what they need to know about their work before sending it
on for human testing. As of yet, no complete alternative to animal
research exists, and not even the most sophisticated technology models
can mimic the complex cellular interactions that occur in a living
system.
Federal regulations governing the care and use of animals in biomedical
research are extensive, regarding every aspect of their care and
treatment from housing, feeding and cleanliness to ventilation and
medical needs. The Animal Welfare Act requires the use of anesthesia or
analgesic drugs for potentially painful procedures and during
post-operative care, and research institutions are required to
establish Institutional Animal Care and Use Committees like the one at
MUSC. Researchers must explain and justify the use of animals in their
research to the committee, select the most appropriate species and use
the fewest number of animals possible. Researchers must also complete
training modules before conducting the work.
By using both in vitro and animal models to determine how medications,
treatments or cures will interact with the human body, researchers are
able to deliver discoveries that catapult the human condition closer to
a future free of the diseases and conditions that now plague family
members, children and friends.
Friday, Oct. 6, 2006
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