Study Shows “Living Drug” Can Provide a Lasting Cure for Cancer
Doug Olson was 49 when he was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, a blood cancer that strikes 21,000 Americans annually. Although the disease kills most patients within a decade, Olson’s case progressed more slowly, and courses of mild chemotherapy kept him healthy for 13 years. Then, when he was 62, the medication stopped working. The cancer had mutated, his doctor explained, becoming resistant to standard remedies. Harsher forms of chemo might buy him a few months, but their side effects would be debilitating. It was time to consider the treatment of last resort: a bone-marrow transplant.
Olson, a scientist who developed blood-testing instruments, knew the odds. There was only a 50 percent chance that a transplant would cure him. There was a 20 percent chance that the agonizing procedure—which involves destroying the patient’s marrow with chemo and radiation, then infusing his blood with donated stem cells—would kill him. If he survived, he would face the danger of graft-versus-host disease, in which the donor’s cells attack the recipient’s tissues. To prevent it, he would have to take immunosuppressant drugs, increasing the risk of infections. He could end up with pneumonia if one of his three grandchildren caught a sniffle. “I was being pushed into a corner,” Olson recalls, “with very little room to move.”
Soon afterward, however, his doctor revealed a possible escape route. He and some colleagues at the University of Pennsylvania’s Abramson Cancer Center were starting a clinical trial, he said, and Olson—still mostly symptom-free—might be a good candidate. The experimental treatment, known as CAR-T therapy, would use genetic engineering to turn his T lymphocytes (immune cells that guard against viruses and other pathogens) into a weapon against cancer.
In September 2010, technicians took some of Olson’s T cells to a laboratory, where they were programmed with new molecular marching orders and coaxed to multiply into an army of millions. When they were ready, a nurse inserted a catheter into his neck. At the turn of a valve, his soldiers returned home, ready to do battle.
“I felt like I’d won the lottery,” Olson says. But he was only the second person in the world to receive this “living drug,” as the University of Pennsylvania investigators called it. No one knew how long his remission would last.
Three weeks later, Olson was slammed with a 102-degree fever, nausea, and chills. The treatment had triggered two dangerous complications: cytokine release syndrome, in which immune chemicals inflame the patient’s tissues, and tumor lysis syndrome, in which toxins from dying cancer cells overwhelm the kidneys. But the crisis passed quickly, and the CAR-T cells fought on. A month after the infusion, the doctor delivered astounding news: “We can’t find any cancer in your body.”
“I felt like I’d won the lottery,” Olson says. But he was only the second person in the world to receive this “living drug,” as the University of Pennsylvania investigators called it. No one knew how long his remission would last.
An Unexpected Cure
In February 2022, the same cancer researchers reported a remarkable milestone: the trial’s first two patients had survived for more than a decade. Although Olson’s predecessor—a retired corrections officer named Bill Ludwig—died of COVID-19 complications in early 2021, both men had remained cancer-free. And the modified immune cells continued to patrol their territory, ready to kill suspected tumor cells the moment they arose.
“We can now conclude that CAR-T cells can actually cure patients with leukemia,” University of Pennsylvania immunologist Carl June, who spearheaded the development of the technique, told reporters. “We thought the cells would be gone in a month or two. The fact that they’ve survived 10 years is a major surprise.”
Even before the announcement, it was clear that CAR-T therapy could win a lasting reprieve for many patients with cancers that were once a death sentence. Since the Food and Drug Administration approved June’s version (marketed as Kymriah) in 2017, the agency has greenlighted five more such treatments for various types of leukemia, lymphoma, and myeloma. “Every single day, I take care of patients who would previously have been told they had no options,” says Rayne Rouce, a pediatric hematologist/oncologist at Texas Children’s Cancer Center. “Now we not only have a treatment option for those patients, but one that could potentially be the last therapy for their cancer that they’ll ever have to receive.”
Immunologist Carl June, middle, spearheaded development of the CAR-T therapy that gave patients Bill Ludwig, left, and Doug Olson, right, a lengthy reprieve on their terminal cancer diagnoses.
Penn Medicine
Yet the CAR-T approach doesn’t help everyone. So far, it has only shown success for blood cancers—and for those, the overall remission rate is 30 to 40 percent. “When it works, it works extraordinarily well,” says Olson’s former doctor, David Porter, director of Penn’s blood and bone marrow transplant program. “It’s important to know why it works, but it’s equally important to know why it doesn’t—and how we can fix that.”
The team’s study, published in the journal Nature, offers a wealth of data on what worked for these two patients. It may also hold clues for how to make the therapy effective for more people.
Building a Better T Cell
Carl June didn’t set out to cure cancer, but his serendipitous career path—and a personal tragedy—helped him achieve insights that had eluded other researchers. In 1971, hoping to avoid combat in Vietnam, he applied to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. June showed a knack for biology, so the Navy sent him on to Baylor College of Medicine. He fell in love with immunology during a fellowship researching malaria vaccines in Switzerland. Later, the Navy deployed him to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle to study bone marrow transplantation.
There, June became part of the first research team to learn how to culture T cells efficiently in a lab. After moving on to the National Naval Medical Center in the ’80s, he used that knowledge to combat the newly emerging AIDS epidemic. HIV, the virus that causes the disease, invades T cells and eventually destroys them. June and his post-doc Bruce Levine developed a method to restore patients’ depleted cell populations, using tiny magnetic beads to deliver growth-stimulating proteins. Infused into the body, the new T cells effectively boosted immune function.
In 1999, after leaving the Navy, June joined the University of Pennsylvania. His wife, who’d been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, died two years later, leaving three young children. “I had not known what it was like to be on the other side of the bed,” he recalls. Watching her suffer through grueling but futile chemotherapy, followed by an unsuccessful bone-marrow transplant, he resolved to focus on finding better cancer treatments. He started with leukemia—a family of diseases in which mutant white blood cells proliferate in the marrow.
Cancer is highly skilled at slipping through the immune system’s defenses. T cells, for example, detect pathogens by latching onto them with receptors designed to recognize foreign proteins. Leukemia cells evade detection, in part, by masquerading as normal white blood cells—that is, as part of the immune system itself.
June planned to use a viral vector no one had tried before: HIV.
To June, chimeric antigen receptor (CAR) T cells looked like a promising tool for unmasking and destroying the impostors. Developed in the early ’90s, these cells could be programmed to identify a target protein, and to kill any pathogen that displayed it. To do the programming, you spliced together snippets of DNA and inserted them into a disabled virus. Next, you removed some of the patient’s T cells and infected them with the virus, which genetically hijacked its new hosts—instructing them to find and slay the patient’s particular type of cancer cells. When the T cells multiplied, their descendants carried the new genetic code. You then infused those modified cells into the patient, where they went to war against their designated enemy.
Or that’s what happened in theory. Many scientists had tried to develop therapies using CAR-T cells, but none had succeeded. Although the technique worked in lab animals, the cells either died out or lost their potency in humans.
But June had the advantage of his years nurturing T cells for AIDS patients, as well as the technology he’d developed with Levine (who’d followed him to Penn with other team members). He also planned to use a viral vector no one had tried before: HIV, which had evolved to thrive in human T cells and could be altered to avoid causing disease. By the summer of 2010, he was ready to test CAR-T therapy against chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL), the most common form of the disease in adults.
Three patients signed up for the trial, including Doug Olson and Bill Ludwig. A portion of each man’s T cells were reprogrammed to detect a protein found only on B lymphocytes, the type of white blood cells affected by CLL. Their genetic instructions ordered them to destroy any cell carrying the protein, known as CD19, and to multiply whenever they encountered one. This meant the patients would forfeit all their B cells, not just cancerous ones—but regular injections of gamma globulins (a cocktail of antibodies) would make up for the loss.
After being infused with the CAR-T cells, all three men suffered high fevers and potentially life-threatening inflammation, but all pulled through without lasting damage. The third patient experienced a partial remission and survived for eight months. Olson and Ludwig were cured.
Learning What Works
Since those first infusions, researchers have developed reliable ways to prevent or treat the side effects of CAR-T therapy, greatly reducing its risks. They’ve also been experimenting with combination therapies—pairing CAR-T with chemo, cancer vaccines, and immunotherapy drugs called checkpoint inhibitors—to improve its success rate. But CAR-T cells are still ineffective for at least 60 percent of blood cancer patients. And they remain in the experimental stage for solid tumors (including pancreatic cancer, mesothelioma, and glioblastoma), whose greater complexity make them harder to attack.
The new Nature study offers clues that could fuel further advances. The Penn team “profiled these cells at a level where we can almost say, ‘These are the characteristics that a T cell would need to survive 10 years,’” says Rouce, the physician at Texas Children’s Cancer Center.
One surprising finding involves how CAR-T cells change in the body over time. At first, those that Olson and Ludwig received showed the hallmarks of “killer” T-cells (also known as CD8 cells)—highly active lymphocytes bent on exterminating every tumor cell in sight. After several months, however, the population shifted toward “helper” T-cells (or CD4s), which aid in forming long-term immune memory but are normally incapable of direct aggression. Over the years, the numbers swung back and forth, until only helper cells remained. Those cells showed markers suggesting they were too exhausted to function—but in the lab, they were able not only to recognize but to destroy cancer cells.
June and his team suspect that those tired-looking helper cells had enough oomph to kill off any B cells Olson and Ludwig made, keeping the pair’s cancers permanently at bay. If so, that could prompt new approaches to selecting cells for CAR-T therapy. Maybe starting with a mix of cell types—not only CD8s, but CD4s and other varieties—would work better than using CD8s alone. Or perhaps inducing changes in cell populations at different times would help.
Another potential avenue for improvement is starting with healthier cells. Evidence from this and other trials hints that patients whose T cells are more robust to begin with respond better when their cells are used in CAR-T therapy. The Penn team recently completed a clinical trial in which CLL patients were treated with ibrutinib—a drug that enhances T-cell function—before their CAR-T cells were manufactured. The response rate, says David Porter, was “very high,” with most patients remaining cancer-free a year after being infused with the souped-up cells.
Such approaches, he adds, are essential to achieving the next phase in CAR-T therapy: “Getting it to work not just in more people, but in everybody.”
Doug Olson enjoys nature - and having a future.
Penn Medicine
To grasp what that could mean, it helps to talk with Doug Olson, who’s now 75. In the years since his infusion, he has watched his four children forge careers, and his grandkids reach their teens. He has built a business and enjoyed the rewards of semi-retirement. He’s done volunteer and advocacy work for cancer patients, run half-marathons, sailed the Caribbean, and ridden his bike along the sun-dappled roads of Silicon Valley, his current home.
And in his spare moments, he has just sat there feeling grateful. “You don’t really appreciate the effect of having a lethal disease until it’s not there anymore,” he says. “The world looks different when you have a future.”
This article was first published on Leaps.org on March 24, 2022.
How exactly does your DNA make you who you are?
It's because of epigenetics that identical twins can actually look different and develop different diseases.
Just as software developers don't write apps out of ones and zeros, the interesting parts of the human genome aren't written merely in As, Ts, Cs and Gs. Yes, these are the fundamental letters that make up our DNA and encode the proteins that make our cells function, but the story doesn't end there.
Our cells possess amazing abilities, like eating invading bacteria or patching over a wound, and these abilities require the coordinated action of hundreds, if not thousands, of proteins. Epigenetics, the study of gene expression, examines how multiple genes work at once to make these biological processes happen.
It's because of epigenetics that identical twins – who possess identical DNA -- can actually look different and develop different diseases. Their environments may influence the expression of their genes in unique ways. For example, a research study in mice found that maternal exposure to a chemical called bisphenol A (BPA) resulted in drastic differences between genetically identical offspring. BPA exposure increased the likelihood that a certain gene was turned on, which led to the birth of yellow mice who were prone to obesity. Their genetically identical siblings who were not exposed to BPA were thinner and born with brown fur.
These three mice are genetically identical. Epigenetic differences, however, result in vastly different phenotypes.
(© 1994 Nature Publishing Group, Duhl, D.)
This famous mouse experiment is just one example of how epigenetics may transform medicine in the coming years. By studying the way genes are turned on and off, and maybe even making those changes ourselves, scientists are beginning to approach diseases like cancer in a completely new way.
With few exceptions, most of the 1 trillion cells that make up your body contain the same DNA instructions as all the others. How does each cell in your body know what it is and what it has to do? One of the answers appears to lie in epigenetic regulation. Just as everyone at a company may have access to all the same files on the office Dropbox, the accountants will put different files on their desktop than the lawyers do.
Our cells prioritize DNA sequences in the same way, even storing entire chromosomes that aren't needed along the wall of the nucleus, while keeping important pieces of DNA in the center, where it is most accessible to be read and used. One of the ways our cells prioritize certain DNA sequences is through methylation, a process that inactivates large regions of genes without editing the underlying "file" itself.
As we learn more about epigenetics, we gain more opportunities to develop therapeutics for a broad range of human conditions, from cancer to metabolic disorders. Though there have not been any clinical applications of epigenetics to immune or metabolic diseases yet, cancer is one of the leading areas, with promising initial successes.
One of the challenges of cancer treatments is that different patients may respond positively or negatively to the same treatment. With knowledge of epigenetics, however, doctors could conduct diagnostic tests to identify a patient's specific epigenetic profile and determine the best treatment for him or her. Already, commercial kits are available that help doctors screen glioma patients for an epigenetic biomarker called MGMT, because patients with this biomarker have shown high rates of success with certain kinds of treatments.
Other epigenetic advances go beyond personalized screening to treatments targeting the mechanism of disease. Some epigenetic drugs turn on genes that help suppress tumors, while others turn on genes that reveal the identity of tumor cells to the immune system, allowing it to attack cancerous cells.
Direct, targeted control of your epigenome could allow doctors to reprogram cancerous or aging cells.
The study of epigenetics has also been fundamental to the field of aging research. The older you get, the more methylation marks your DNA carries, and this has led to the distinction between biological aging, or the state of your cells, and chronological aging, or how old you actually are.
Just as our DNA can get miscopied and accumulate mutations, errors in DNA methylation can lead to so-called "epimutations". One of the big hypotheses in aging research today is that the accumulation of these random epimutations over time is responsible for what we perceive as aging.
Studies thus far have been correlative - looking at several hundred sites of epigenetic modifications in a person's cell, scientists can now roughly discern the age of that person. The next set of advances in the field will come from learning what these epigenetic changes individually do by themselves, and if certain methylations are correlated with cellular aging. General diagnostic terms like "aging" could be replaced with "abnormal methylation at these specific locations," which would also open the door to new therapeutic targets.
Direct, targeted control of your epigenome could allow doctors to reprogram cancerous or aging cells. While this type of genetic surgery is not feasible just yet, current research is bringing that possibility closer. The Cas9 protein of genome-editing CRISPR/Cas9 fame has been fused with epigenome modifying enzymes to target epigenetic modifications to specific DNA sequences.
A therapeutic of this type could theoretically undo a harmful DNA methylation, but would also be competing with the cell's native machinery responsible for controlling this process. One potential approach around this problem involves making beneficial synthetic changes to the epigenome that our cells do not have the capacity to undo.
Also fueling this frontier is a new approach to understanding disease itself. Scientists and doctors are now moving beyond the "one defective gene = one disease" paradigm. Because lots of diseases are caused by multiple genes going haywire, epigenetic therapies could hold the key to new types of treatments by targeting multiple defective genes at once.
Scientists are still discovering which epigenetic modifications are responsible for particular diseases, and engineers are building new tools for epigenome editing. Given the proliferation of work in these fields within the last 10 years, we may see epigenetic therapeutics emerging within the next couple of decades.
Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight, Sky Advertisement.
Imagine enjoying a romantic night stargazing, cozying up for the evening – and you catch a perfectly timed ad for Outback Steakhouse.
Countries have sovereignty over their airspace, but the night sky itself is pretty much an open field.
That's the vision of StartRocket, a Russian startup planning to put well-lit advertisements into outer space. According to a recent interview, StartRocket says its first client is PepsiCo.
The Lowdown
Launching at twilight during the early morning or early evening, the ads will be on cubesats – 10 cm square metallic boxes traditionally used in space. The attached Mylar sails will reflect light from the rising or setting sun, making the ad appear like an "orbital billboard."
The advertisements will need all the solar power they can get: According to a 2016 report, 80 percent of the world and 99 percent of America and Europe experience light pollution at night. Showing advertisements in, say, Wyoming will be much easier than attracting attention in Midtown Manhattan – and risks adding a considerable amount of light pollution to an already overburdened night sky.
Next Up
The StartRocket advertising program is set to begin in 2021. The most recent rate is $20,000 for eight hours of advertising space.
But first, StartRocket has to win over consumers, regulators and space activists.
"I don't see it taking off now," says TED Fellow and University of Texas, Austin Associate Professor Dr. Moriba Jah. Jah is the creator of Astriagraph, an interactive tool to help monitor space junk orbiting Earth. "In general, the space community is anathema to advertisements from orbit to people on the ground… The global astronomy community will be fighting it tooth and nail."
Jah notes SpaceX's launch of 60 satellites last month. "Astronomers were up in arms since they are so bright, you can see them with the naked eye." It got to the point where Elon Musk had to defend himself to the astronomy community on Twitter.
Open Questions
Startups come and go, especially those that are looking for funding. StartRocket is in both categories. Frankly, it's unclear if the ads will actually launch two years from now.
Space advertisements are more likely to be the future for less regulated and financially strapped areas.
The regulatory hurdles are just as unknown. According to Jah, countries have sovereignty over their airspace (think planes, balloons and drones), but the night sky itself is pretty much an open field. This doesn't remove the political ramifications, though, and any American-based launches would have to contend with the FCC, since it regulates advertisements, and the FAA, since it regulates flight.
Carbon credits-style redemptions may help balance out the potential environmental and political damage done by sky ads. It isn't a coincidence that space pioneers Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Richard Branson succeeded at other ventures first, giving them considerably deep pockets to survive red tape – something StartRocket's team doesn't have at the moment.
Space advertisements are more likely to be the future for less regulated, financially strapped areas. Depending on how ad companies negotiate with the local governments, it's easy to picture Kolkata with an "Enjoy Coke" advertisement blaring during a Ganges sunset.
"In rural places, it would be like having another moon," Jah says. "People would say the rich are now taking the sky away from us."