Earlier this week, I was catching up on my computer at home when I received an e-mail notifying us that we had received a couple of important accreditations (more on these below). That got me thinking about writing a blog about the process of obtaining such accreditations. By chance, my eyes landed on an old book on my bookshelf – The Agony and the Ecstasy – a novel by Irving Stone about the life of Michelangelo. The title reflects how the artist’s life was divided into the agony of dealing with the politics and society of the day, and the ecstasy of completing his incredible masterpieces. Once it got into my brain, I just couldn’t shake the silly metaphor of linking the process of obtaining accreditations with painting the Sistine Chapel. So, despite the totally understandable puzzled expressions on the faces of my colleagues when they first heard of my plans for this blog, here we go…
Late last week we received formal notification from the National Cancer Institute (NCI) that our long-standing collaboration with the Mayo Clinic known as the “Iowa-Mayo Lymphoma Specialized Program of Research Excellence” or “SPORE” for short, has been refunded for another 5 years. This program has been funded continuously by the NCI for the past 15 years. We now know we will be funded for years 16 through 20. Like most cancer research grants, funding decisions on SPORE grants are based on a robust peer review process and are highly competitive. Needless to say, we were thrilled to hear that our SPORE was viewed positively by our peers.
Incredible advances in cancer genetics have revolutionized how we think about cancer. These advances are now being applied to patient care. A brief response to the question “how is our growing knowledge of cancer genetics impacting on cancer research and cancer medicine?” is to say “it’s complicated – and exciting!” That is not a very helpful answer. Here, I will summarize the big picture with the understanding that this brief summary will not even touch on some of the rapidly evolving, nuanced, yet very exciting concepts in cancer genetics.
Let’s start out with a review and discussion of why the genetics revolution in cancer is so important.
Once each year, I take a week off at the end of July and, with 10,000 other crazies, ride my bike across Iowa as part of RAGBRAI. For those of you who are not familiar with this Iowa tradition, RAGBRAI is the “Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa”. RAGBRAI follows a different route across the state each year. It starts on the western edge of the state and finishes on the east with the ceremonial dipping of the front bicycle tire in the Mississippi. RAGBRAI is a rolling folk festival with riders in costumes, bands in many towns, church ladies selling pie, and everything that makes Iowa a great place to live (including a growing number of beer gardens selling Iowa craft beer).
Webster’s dictionary defines the word retreat as “an act or process of withdrawing especially from what is difficult, dangerous, or disagreeable.” That definition only partially fits a current use of the word where a group withdraws from day-to-day activities to focus on broader strategic directions and goals. Indeed, my colleague, friend and partner on the Iowa/Mayo Lymphoma Specialized Program of Research Excellence (SPORE), Dr. Tom Witzig, refuses to use the word “retreat” to describe such gatherings. The intent of the effort is to speed progress, so he prefers the word “advance”.
Last week, more than 200 faculty, staff and students gathered off site to participate in the Holden Comprehensive Cancer Center Research Retreat. Using Tom’s affirmative-thinking nomenclature, our Cancer Center Research Advance was a great success, and an inspiring day for a number of reasons.
Every day at Holden Comprehensive Cancer Center, we cancer specialists and researchers make decisions and recommendations based on facts we don’t like. A patient’s cancer has recurred. A treatment is not working. The patient lacks the gene that would make them eligible for a promising clinical trial. A highly promising research grant is not funded. We can’t ignore the bad news. Instead, we accept it, and do our best despite the bad news.
I am a bit of an astronomy buff. When my kids were younger, I had an eight inch reflecting telescope I would set up in the backyard. My kids and I would invite other families in the neighborhood to look at the night sky. I recall one evening, we talked about the night sky while I was setting up. The constellation Orion was particularly beautiful that evening. We discussed about how the stars that make up Orion’s belt, legs, shoulders and sword, tell us a story we would not understand if we just looked through the telescope at each star separately. We still wanted to look through the telescope (Orion’s sword was particularly interesting), but looking at the constellation as a whole told us an additional story. The whole was greater than the parts.
I just returned from one of my favorite meetings of the year, the annual American Society of Hematology (ASH) meeting that I have attended almost every year since becoming a cancer researcher in the late 1980s. At the ASH annual meeting, research and clinical advances in blood cancers and other blood disorders are presented and discussed by scientists and physicians. Several presentations at this year’s meeting led me to think about my first ASH meetings.
I spent an evening last week doing two things that, at first, I thought were unrelated.
First, I viewed a preview of “Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies,” a PBS documentary based on the book by Siddhartha Mukherjee. His preview was sponsored by the Iowa Cancer Consortium, The American Cancer Society, The Iowa Department of Public Health and Iowa Public Television. It included excerpts from the 3 part PBS documentary by producer Ken Burns that starts tonight, March 30 and runs through Wednesday, April 1. The preview was followed by a panel discussion. My fellow panelists and I made brief statements, and then entertained a range of outstanding questions from the audience.
Dr. Laura Rogers, a post-doc in my research lab, likes to start her presentations during our weekly research laboratory meetings with a quote. One she used a few months back was from Thomas Huxley, a renowned British biologist from the 1800s, who said, “The great tragedy of science – the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact.” It was a very appropriate quote for Laura to use given the results we were discussing that day.
As Huxley’s quote illustrates, Laura wasn’t the first scientist to see a beautiful hypothesis slain by an ugly fact, and she will not be the last.