NOTE: In the past 100 years how we treat cancer has changed. Various schools of thought have come and gone. The spectrum of treatment has stretched from prayer, to radical surgery. What has emerged today is a mixture of chemotherapy - either in pill form, or intravenous delivery - and radiation. These two primary treatment options, combined with traditional surgery seem to offer the patient the best chance to beat the beast of cancer. The challenge for the medical community is to figure out how to balance the three pronged approach: chemo, radiation, surgery, to kill the cancer, but save the patient.
Chapter 11: The Third Alternative
AKRON OHIO - 1989
Behind his desk at the College of Polymer Science, the University of Akron professor, Dr. Archer Julius Whitford has an photograph of William Shatner - as Captain James Tiberius Kirk, with the line, "I want that third alternative" and "To: Archer! Good luck finding it." Shatners' autograph scrawled in black sharpie at the bottom. Whitford liked to think of himself as the same kind of renegade as Kirk was in the series; pushing the limits, scoffing at authority, but in the end getting the job done.
Now, he sat, staring at two of the four items on his meticulously clean desk. To his upper right, exactly 6 inches from the top and side edges of his desk sat a mug - his mug from the Plank Instiute - with steaming Guatemalan Antiga coffee, to his upper left a neatly framed photograph of his 8 year old son, Max, in his baseball uniform, just left of center, and two inches from the bottom of his desk, the file of a 9 year old girl with advanced leukemia, exactly one inch to the right of that, laid out on a piece of clear lucite, sat could be the future of cancer treatment, his advanced polyester based-silk blend fabric, coated with a rich blend of cancer fighting drugs designed to be delivered transdermally to the patient. It seemed like the third alternative sat right on his desk.
If this worked, patients would no longer suffer painful needle sticks. Gone would be hours sitting in hospitals as chemicals dripped slowly through tubes into patients arms. Gone too would be the pile of pills taken by other patients, that lead to nausea, vomiting and exhaustion. Once activated by a single dose of radiation, the fabric provides up to three months of treatment. The release of the chemicals controlled by careful forumlaic matching with the patients DNA.
If it worked, it would change the face of cancer treatment, forever and make Whitford and the gorgeous lady doctor seated across from him "rich beyond the dreams of avarice." The fact that Dr. Heather Moore, biochemist used the quote from Dr. McCoy of Star Trek made her even more attractive to the recently widowed polymer expert.
Whitford sat there staring at the file, then the fabric. Picked up his coffee, drank and sat it down - exactly where he had lifted it from.
"Look, Dr. Whitford. If YOU are not interested in the potential of the transdermal delivery of chemotherapy through YOUR fabric. I know someone at Superior Fabrics who would be...." Doctor Moore rose, straightening knee length leather skirt, reached across the desk to collect the file and the fabric sample...
Quickly and accurately pinning the file and the fabric to the desk with his own hands, Archer rose... Looking the aggressive doctor in the eye. "No, no...we ARE interested, it's just that in this day and age of law-suits and FDA regulations we have to take things slowly."
"Dr. Whitford, I came to you because you have the rep as a scientist who takes risks, a man who hates delays, who despises red tape." Dr. Moore was getting upset. She paused to catch her breath. As Archer relaxed his grip on the patient file, she snatched it, flipped it open on, dropped it back on the desk, so the other Doctor could see the photograph inside.
"Melanie Higgins, age 9, advanced myelocytic lymphoma, she has already exhausted three different treatment regemines and her doctors give her less than two months to live." Dr. Moore waited as Archer looked at the photo...several moments passed, then she added. "I noticed the picture on your desk. Your son, I presume, looks about the same age. If the potential cure was sitting on your desk, what would you do, let him die?"
The polyester expert ran his hand over the chemically impregnated fabric, pondering the consequences; the potential to save the life of a child, versus burying his career as a researcher, along with that of the doctor ccross the desk from him. "But will it work, Dr. Moore? Will it work on a human?"
"When my mother developed the STAR chemo therapy cocktail, they asked the same questions. At some point there has to be human trial. Back then the subject was my grandmother. That trial gave her another 10 years." Dr. Moore had to take a breath to hold back the tears, tears she held for her mother. A month after she treated her grandmother, the FDA found out about the test, stripped her of her medical license and she crawled into a vodka bottler and never worked again. She died when Heater was 17, when her drinking lead to the fatal collision with a light pole.
"I have been reworking the formulations she was using for the past 10 years in my lab, and we just received approval for a new drug, called 5-fluorouracil, and we KNOW it works in IV forms, we KNOW it works in PILL form and we KNOW it works as a cream...and thanks to YOUR research in coated polymers, we THINK it can work in transdermal applications" Dr. Moor paused again. She noticed that Archer was looking thoughtfully at the fabric his lab had provided for her experiments.
More in control now. Archer stood straight, picked up his coffee mug and walked over to the window and watched the traffic below. "Have your office call my lab with the measurements for the girls suit. We will have it for you by the end of the week."
"Archer, can I call you Archer?" she said standing at his desk, file an fabric neatly tucked in her briefcase. "You just saved the life of a little girl. I am sure of it."
When she had turned and left, Dr. Archer Whitford returned to his desk, replaced his coffee cup in its proper position, leaned over and adjusted the photograph of his son on the desk. "Well, champ. Dad may soon have a LOT more time to coach your team if this goes wrong. But if it was you who were sick, Dr. Moore is right, we'd give it a shot."
Chapter 11: The Third Alternative
AKRON OHIO - 1989
Behind his desk at the College of Polymer Science, the University of Akron professor, Dr. Archer Julius Whitford has an photograph of William Shatner - as Captain James Tiberius Kirk, with the line, "I want that third alternative" and "To: Archer! Good luck finding it." Shatners' autograph scrawled in black sharpie at the bottom. Whitford liked to think of himself as the same kind of renegade as Kirk was in the series; pushing the limits, scoffing at authority, but in the end getting the job done.
Now, he sat, staring at two of the four items on his meticulously clean desk. To his upper right, exactly 6 inches from the top and side edges of his desk sat a mug - his mug from the Plank Instiute - with steaming Guatemalan Antiga coffee, to his upper left a neatly framed photograph of his 8 year old son, Max, in his baseball uniform, just left of center, and two inches from the bottom of his desk, the file of a 9 year old girl with advanced leukemia, exactly one inch to the right of that, laid out on a piece of clear lucite, sat could be the future of cancer treatment, his advanced polyester based-silk blend fabric, coated with a rich blend of cancer fighting drugs designed to be delivered transdermally to the patient. It seemed like the third alternative sat right on his desk.
If this worked, patients would no longer suffer painful needle sticks. Gone would be hours sitting in hospitals as chemicals dripped slowly through tubes into patients arms. Gone too would be the pile of pills taken by other patients, that lead to nausea, vomiting and exhaustion. Once activated by a single dose of radiation, the fabric provides up to three months of treatment. The release of the chemicals controlled by careful forumlaic matching with the patients DNA.
If it worked, it would change the face of cancer treatment, forever and make Whitford and the gorgeous lady doctor seated across from him "rich beyond the dreams of avarice." The fact that Dr. Heather Moore, biochemist used the quote from Dr. McCoy of Star Trek made her even more attractive to the recently widowed polymer expert.
Whitford sat there staring at the file, then the fabric. Picked up his coffee, drank and sat it down - exactly where he had lifted it from.
"Look, Dr. Whitford. If YOU are not interested in the potential of the transdermal delivery of chemotherapy through YOUR fabric. I know someone at Superior Fabrics who would be...." Doctor Moore rose, straightening knee length leather skirt, reached across the desk to collect the file and the fabric sample...
Quickly and accurately pinning the file and the fabric to the desk with his own hands, Archer rose... Looking the aggressive doctor in the eye. "No, no...we ARE interested, it's just that in this day and age of law-suits and FDA regulations we have to take things slowly."
"Dr. Whitford, I came to you because you have the rep as a scientist who takes risks, a man who hates delays, who despises red tape." Dr. Moore was getting upset. She paused to catch her breath. As Archer relaxed his grip on the patient file, she snatched it, flipped it open on, dropped it back on the desk, so the other Doctor could see the photograph inside.
"Melanie Higgins, age 9, advanced myelocytic lymphoma, she has already exhausted three different treatment regemines and her doctors give her less than two months to live." Dr. Moore waited as Archer looked at the photo...several moments passed, then she added. "I noticed the picture on your desk. Your son, I presume, looks about the same age. If the potential cure was sitting on your desk, what would you do, let him die?"
The polyester expert ran his hand over the chemically impregnated fabric, pondering the consequences; the potential to save the life of a child, versus burying his career as a researcher, along with that of the doctor ccross the desk from him. "But will it work, Dr. Moore? Will it work on a human?"
"When my mother developed the STAR chemo therapy cocktail, they asked the same questions. At some point there has to be human trial. Back then the subject was my grandmother. That trial gave her another 10 years." Dr. Moore had to take a breath to hold back the tears, tears she held for her mother. A month after she treated her grandmother, the FDA found out about the test, stripped her of her medical license and she crawled into a vodka bottler and never worked again. She died when Heater was 17, when her drinking lead to the fatal collision with a light pole.
"I have been reworking the formulations she was using for the past 10 years in my lab, and we just received approval for a new drug, called 5-fluorouracil, and we KNOW it works in IV forms, we KNOW it works in PILL form and we KNOW it works as a cream...and thanks to YOUR research in coated polymers, we THINK it can work in transdermal applications" Dr. Moor paused again. She noticed that Archer was looking thoughtfully at the fabric his lab had provided for her experiments.
More in control now. Archer stood straight, picked up his coffee mug and walked over to the window and watched the traffic below. "Have your office call my lab with the measurements for the girls suit. We will have it for you by the end of the week."
"Archer, can I call you Archer?" she said standing at his desk, file an fabric neatly tucked in her briefcase. "You just saved the life of a little girl. I am sure of it."
When she had turned and left, Dr. Archer Whitford returned to his desk, replaced his coffee cup in its proper position, leaned over and adjusted the photograph of his son on the desk. "Well, champ. Dad may soon have a LOT more time to coach your team if this goes wrong. But if it was you who were sick, Dr. Moore is right, we'd give it a shot."
