chemotherapy

Head and neck cancer is more common than you think

Source: www.irishtimes.com
Author: Jamie Ball

Well over 1,000 people in Ireland are diagnosed each year with cancers of the head and neck, with almost three-quarters of cases being attributed to smoking and alcohol. Yet this pernicious form of cancer very often goes under-reported, or sufficient heed isn’t paid to the warning signs that, if caught early, may be the difference between life and death.

This is why July 27th will mark the third World Head & Neck Cancer day, taking place across 53 countries. The 2017 National Cancer Strategy highlights the importance of prevention, detection and diagnosis, and education and awareness is key for early recognition of the disease.

According to James Paul O’Neill, Prof of Otolaryngology, Head and Neck Surgery in Beaumont Hospital, Dublin and the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland, there can be many different types of cancers within the head and neck, each with their own tissue characteristics and biological behaviour.

“Cancers may develop in several areas of this region, including the mouth, throat, larynx (voice box), glandular tissue (thyroid), salivary tissue (parotid gland), lymphatic tissue, nose, sinuses and skin. Patients have a large variety of symptoms and signs according to the subsite of the disease,” says O’Neill.

He says surgery incorporates many different techniques and skills, as the region has essential functional roles, such as talking, breathing, smelling, hearing, chewing and swallowing.

“We are now in the age of highly-specialised technological innovations. There is a drive towards minimally invasive surgery because we can perform the same surgery except with reduced morbidity to surrounding structures.

“Chemotherapy overall offers little in head and neck oncology, with an overall survival difference of approximately 6.5 per cent, but a hike in morbidity of nearly 50 per cent.

“Overall, some head and neck cancers have an excellent prognosis, but unfortunately two-thirds of all our patients present with advanced disease at the time of diagnosis. If these patients fail our first line of therapy, their prognosis is often very challenging. Head and neck cancers often advance quickly and given the anatomical complexity of the region, frequently impinge on or directly invade the patient’s airway,” says O’Neill.

Following a diagnosis of Laryngeal cancer in 2014, Sligoman Donal Connor had his larynx removed in Beaumont Hospital, under the care of Prof O’Neill and plastic surgeon Barry O’Sullivan. Despite his diagnosis, Connor had never smoked, and remained fit and active all his life.

“This was life-changing surgery, but it gave me a chance to have a life and get rid of this tumour, which was making me hoarse and very unwell,” says Connor. “I now have a little prosthesis, or speaking valve, in my neck, which helps to project my voice. I have to put my finger in the hole in my neck, which is called a stoma, every time I want to speak, which can be very tiring. Conversation for me is the biggest challenge, as I cannot raise my voice if I need to call someone, and I cannot speak over the radio, television or in a crowded situation,” says Connor.

“I now breathe through the stoma, which must be cleaned and cared for on a daily basis, and so it’s much easier for me to get chest infections. I understand my neck looks different and people stare at it, but by now I’m used to this type of attention.”

Connor says his sense of smell has been impacted hugely, while going for a swim is no longer an option either. “If water enters my stoma it would flood my lungs. I have to take great care in the shower. My stoma needs to be covered at all times around water. I am very lucky I can eat and drink most things, but I have to relax after my meals or my food will repeat on me. I cannot speak during mealtimes as I need to focus on swallowing.

“Regardless of all these negatives, I am thankful to God every day to be cancer free and given this second chance. I could go around all day depressed, and some days I do, but I try my best to make the most out of the life I have been left with,” says Connor.

“I know I had different treatments and surgeries that weren’t successful for me, but what didn’t work for me may be very successful for other cancer patients, as everyone’s cancer is different. I know now that anyone who is hoarse for more than six weeks should have it investigated. Please go to your GP, or further if needs be, and have it checked out. It may be nothing to worry about, but if it is detected early, its half the battle.”

Jay Fund will forever remain dear to heart of ESPN’s Mortensen

Source: staugustine.com
Author: Gene Frenette

Chris Mortensen remembers the moment last May when his own cancer journey reminded him why he had been coming to Tom Coughlin’s Jay Fund benefit dinner/golf tournament for the previous 15 years.

As Mortensen waited in line to receive his proton radiation treatment at the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, the NFL information insider for ESPN saw a man ahead of him dressed in jeans and work boots strapped to a gurney, holding his 3-year-old son.

“He’s going into the very scary radiation proton room,” said Mortensen. “You have to be in there to understand how intimidating a place it can be, even more so for a child. That’s when I thought of the Jay Fund.

“There’s a dad, who clearly took off from work, with his son who looks sick and scared. It made me think, ‘That’s what the Jay Fund is about, helping families tend to the needs of their children who are suffering from this.’ That was the moment it connected with me.”

Mortensen, diagnosed 17 months ago with Stage IV throat cancer, is now himself an indirect beneficiary of what the Jay Fund does to provide financial/emotional support to pediatric cancer victims and their families. As the man known as Mort learned in his own battle, which metastasized into his lungs in November, he draws inspiration from watching kids fight this terrible disease with an upbeat attitude.

“What I saw at MD Anderson was great humanity, the promise of young people of all nationalities,” said Mortensen. “Not just the patients, but the support of their caregivers. You’re seeing all kinds of pediatric patients and families fight this battle. Now I have a clear image and picture of what they’re feeling.”

Mortensen, 65, remains in the fight of his life to return to the ESPN airwaves for the start of the 2017 football season. He’s been through chemotherapy and the standard 35 radiation treatments. Mortensen thought he was on the cusp of remission last August, until a biopsy in November revealed the cancer had spread into his lungs.

NFL referee Tony Corrente, a throat cancer survivor who had the same oncologist as Mortensen , had forewarned him early on about the challenges he’d be facing.

“[Corrente] said you’re going to go through a period in radiation where you’re going to feel you had the worst strep throat ever in you life times 100,” said Moretensen, whose weight plummeted down to a low of 142 pounds, which he has mostly regained. “And when you’re done with radiation, it’s going to get worse for the next three or four months, which it did.”

Though he can’t play golf due to impending hernia surgery, Mortensen was determined not to miss the Jay Fund event this year. It motivates him to be around people dedicated to a cause, now closer to his heart than he could have imagined a short time ago.

Sunday night at the Jay Fund dinner, Mortensen was touched when he saw 22-year-old cancer survivor Marissa Ierna speak about her battle with rhabdomyosarcoma, which inflicted the lower calf muscles of her legs.

Mortensen, who met Ierna briefly two years ago when they sat at the same table as she received a Jay Fund scholarship, received an email from her right after his cancer diagnosis. Among the hundreds of correspondences of encouragement sent to Mortensen during his battle, it was the words from Ierna on January 19, 2016 that stuck with him the most.

Here is a partial transcript of Ierna’s email to Mortensen: “I want to first say how sorry I am to hear about your recent diagnosis. It took me a while to learn that in order to get through the chemo and all the hard days, I had to keep a smile on my face and always have a positive attitude. I wish I would have known that earlier in treatment, it would have made the first few months a lot easier. As you start treatment, just remember to keep a positive attitude and always stay strong.

“I am very thankful to cancer for all it has provided me. I know this sounds crazy, but it has changed my life for the better. I encourage you to take this terrible disease and turn it into something amazing! The toughest battles are given to the strongest warriors, which means you can do this!”

Now imagine a man in his mid-60s, fresh off a cancer diagnosis, reading that from a young woman he met only briefly at a Jay Fund dinner. It uplifted Mortensen beyond measure, especially when cancer was beating him down.

So when Mortensen heard Ierna’s message to the Jay Fund audience on Sunday, the memory of that email moved him to tears all over again.

“Kids in a cancer unit are just so dang resilient, they actually inspire you,” Mortensen said. “Everybody goes through the fear of cancer on some level, and Marissa’s note was one of the most memorable.

“I read it once or twice all over again when I was in the dark shadows of my cancer journey. I was more emotional listening to her [at the Jay Fund dinner] because it hit me deeper. You couldn’t meet Marissa with that unforgettable smile, hear her story, and ever forget her.”

Ierna recently graduated from Florida State with a marketing degree and just took a job working with the Jay Fund. An avid runner, she’s approaching four years in remission and just ran the Boston Marathon in 3:28.31.

“My oncologist told me I’d never be able to run again any more than five miles because of the radiation in my leg, making me prone to stress fractures,” Ierna said.

A hard tumor was wrapped around her leg muscles, and the cancer in her bone marrow showed it advanced to Stage IV, just like Mortensen.

Ierna, an Atlantic Coast High graduate, credits the Jay Fund for providing her parents and younger brother with the emotional support they needed to cope through her illness. She’s been paying it forward ever since, making it her personal mission to help others like Mortensen in the same predicament.

It’s still unclear what the outcome will be for Mortensen. Acting on a tip from Coughlin, he’s battling the cancer in his lungs with immunotherapy, a treatment option with less intense side effects than chemo or radiation.

The 26-year ESPN employee has most of his voice and hair back, but his saliva glands aren’t yet fully restored to easily get him through 30-second sound bites. He’s hopeful another three months of down time before the season starts will advance the healing process, allowing him to return to full-time duty for Sunday Night and Monday Night Countdown shows.

Mortensen has seen the ravages of cancer up close, how it initially “crushed” his wife Micki and struck fear in so many kids during cancer treatment visits. He has gained an even greater appreciation for Coughlin’s charity, which has delivered over $8 million in grants during its 22-year existence.

But the Jay Fund is about more than just providing families financial assistance. It’s also about cancer survivors emotionally lifting up the next patient.

As Chris Mortensen discovered on his cancer journey, you can never be too old to be inspired by the young.

Beating HPV-positive throat cancer

Source: www.huffingtonpost.com
Author: Pamela Tom, Contributor

National Oral, Head, and Neck Cancer Awareness Week is April 12-18, 2017

For at least two years, 47 year-old Rob Clinton of Rochester, NY, would choke on post nasal drip in the shower. He knew something was wrong in his throat but he didn’t feel any pain.

Did he have cancer? Clinton smoked cigarettes for 30 years and worked in an auto body shop where he was regularly exposed to carcinogens, but he wasn’t experiencing the typical symptoms of throat cancer. These include hoarseness or a change in the voice, difficulty swallowing, a persistent sore throat, ear pain, a lump in the neck, cough, breathing problems, and unexplained weight loss.

In November 2015, Clinton went to the dentist to have his teeth cleaned. His dentist felt Clinton’s swollen neck and recommended that he visit a medical doctor. Clinton heeded the advice and sought the opinion of an ear, nose, and throat specialist at Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester, NY.

The ENT doctor sent Clinton to have a CAT scan and when he scoped Clinton’s throat, the doctor said, “I see something in there.”

What he saw was a tumor and there were a few other things going on too.

The Diagnosis
The biopsy showed that Clinton had Stage IVa oral squamous cell carcinoma (OSCC) at the base of his tongue—and the cancer was HPV positive. HPV stands for the human papillomavirus and a recent survey found that more than 42% of Americans are infected with HPV. While most people’s bodies naturally clear HPV after two years, some people’s immune systems do not recognize the virus and consequently, HPV can harbor in the body for decades. HPV-related throat cancer has been linked to oral sex.

The Treatment
On December 4, 2015, Clinton underwent neck dissection surgery at Roswell Park Cancer Institute in Buffalo, NY. Dr. Hassan Arshad, a head and neck cancer surgeon, removed 30 lymph nodes; two had cancer and one tumor was the size of a golf ball. One lymph node on the other side of neck and a tongue tumor would be treated with radiation.

The first of 35 radiation treatments began one month later in conjunction with Cisplatin chemotherapy infusions. That’s seven weeks of simultaneous radiation and chemo.

“I drove myself to treatment for the first five weeks. Up until the last week of treatment, it wasn’t too terrible,” Clinton says. “But then I started getting tired and my mother took me to the cancer center.”

Clinton had decided not to get a feeding tube prior to or during treatment and as the radiation and chemo attacked his cancer, he began to lose weight. The treatment reduced Clinton’s appetite because foods began to taste different. For two weeks, he also felt a burning sensation in his mouth and says his saliva tasted like hot sauce.

“It was excruciating and the worst thing I dealt with during treatment.”

Furthermore when radiation makes the throat feel tender and raw, it becomes nearly impossible to eat normally through the mouth.

Clinton was 215 pounds before treatment. After treatment, he weighed in at a mere 165 pounds. A loss of 50 pounds. In hindsight, Clinton wishes he had the feeding tube inserted while he was still strong.

“Don’t be afraid of the treatment. It’s manageable and you can get through it. I recommend a feeding tube because it’s a comfort knowing you have an option,” says Clinton.

The Recovery
While it took a month for Clinton to recover from the initial surgery, doctors say it takes at least a year for HPV+ throat cancer patients to find their “new normal”—regaining strength, adapting to lingering side effects.

Following chemo, Clinton experienced “chemo brain” or “chemo fog,” known as a cognitive impairment that can occur after chemotherapy. The patient may experience memory loss or dysfunction, and have difficulty concentrating or multi-tasking.

The radiation also took its toll on Clinton. He researched and found a salve made of calendula flowers, olive oil, beeswax, and Vitamin E oil to soothe his parched skin. Trying to gain weight was a bigger challenge. First, his taste went “totally upside down” and spicy foods were intolerable.

“A vanilla cookie tasted like black pepper,” Clinton says. “Only frozen peas and parsley tasted normal.”

And dry mouth is a common result of the radiation treatment. While both sides of Clinton’s neck received radiation, he had less saliva production on his left side. At night he would have to wake up every 40 minutes to drink water. Clinton must make certain not to become dehydrated because it causes the dry mouth to worsen. Now he chews gum almost non-stop.

In his search to combat dry mouth, Clinton says he researched solutions online and found ALTENS, or acupuncture-like transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation. A study led by Dr. Raimond Wong, an associate professor of oncology at McMaster University in Ontario, Canada, found evidence that ALTENS may reduce patient-reported xerostomia, the medical term for dry mouth.

Clinton joined Dr. Wong’s clinical trial to determine whether ALTENS for six weeks/four days a week would be as effective as treatment for 12 weeks/two times a week.

“Four days a week, the researchers put pads on the inside of my ankles, the outside of my knee, back of my hands, between my thumb and forefingers, and between my chin and bottom lip,” says Clinton.

Clinton says ALTENS felt like little shocks and the acupuncture-like stimulation improved his saliva production by 80 percent. “Even after I stopped ALTENS, my saliva kept improving,” says Clinton.

The Survivor
Two years after cancer treatment, regular PET scans show that Rob Clinton has no evidence of cancer. In fact, the prognosis for HPV-related throat cancer is 85 to 90 percent positive if caught early. In contrast, patients who battle advanced throat cancer caused by excessive smoking and alcohol have a five-year survival rate of 25 to 40 percent.

Dr. Arshad, Clinton’s surgeon at the Roswell Park Cancer Institute, explained why.

“The majority of tonsil and tongue base (“throat”) cancers are HPV-positive, but smoking is still a major risk factor. Typically, non-smoking patients with HPV-positive tonsil/tongue base cancers present with a lump in the neck, implying that the cancer has already spread to lymph nodes. This used to mean that the patient would have a reduced chance of long-term survival,” Arshad says. “We now know that for nonsmokers who have HPV-positive cancers, metastasis to lymph nodes doesn’t carry the same poor prognosis. The newest staging system reflects that change, i.e. Some of those patients who were previously classified as stage IV are now at stage II if the cancer is HPV-positive.”

Clinton is not only faring well physically, surviving cancer changed his outlook and lifestyle.

“My life is pretty much back to normal. I get a little nervous each time I get a PET scan but so far, it shows I am free of cancer,” Clinton says. “I have a better appreciation of things. I live healthy in terms of diet and recreation. I don’t smoke or drink heavily.”

The Future of HPV+ Oropharyngeal Cancer
De-stigmatizing HPV is a key component to building public awareness and acceptance of HPV infection, and the ability to recognize the early symptoms of HPV-related throat cancer. As more and more people are diagnosed with HPV-related throat cancer, the social stigma surrounding the virus is a disturbing deterrent because HPV cancer patients are often reticent to disclose the HPV connection.

In a 2015 public service announcement, actor Michael Douglas who was treated HPV+ base of tongue cancer called for oral screenings but never said “HPV” by name. “A very common virus, one responsible for the vast majority of cervical cancers is now identified as the cause of this rapid rise in oral cancers,” said Douglas.

In the early years of the AIDS crisis, people associated infection with illness, fear, and death. It took a decade to generate a movement and begin to change the public sentiment. Now after continual education, AIDS is accepted and the focus centers on hope instead of ostracization.

Clinton hopes more people will accept that HPV infection is common—the most common sexually-transmitted infection in the U.S., according to the CDC. The American Society of Clinical Oncologists also found that by 2020, the annual number of HPV-related oropharyngeal in nonsmoking, middle-aged men will surpass the number of cervical cancer cases.

“HPV is not a shameful thing. It’s very common. It’s just that some people can’t clear the virus from their bodies,” Clinton says. “This type of cancer is the next epidemic. I feel fortunate every day that I came through it as well as I did.”

April, 2017|Oral Cancer News|

UK cancer patient receives new jaw thanks to 3D printing

Source: http://www.3ders.org/
Author: staff

3D printing techniques are being adopted with increasing regularity in surgery of all kinds, and more and more patients are seeing a hugely improved quality of life thanks to the unique benefits of the technology. The most recent success story took place in the UK, where a patient’s jawbone was entirely reconstructed using bone from his leg. The pioneering surgical procedure made use of 3D printing at various different stages.

Stephen Waterhouse was diagnosed with throat cancer eight years ago, and underwent chemotherapy and radiotherapy in order to fight it. The treatments were a great success and his cancer went away, but they had an unfortunate side effect. His jawbone had started to crumble, and emergency surgery was required before it completely disintegrated. The 53-year-old was taken to Royal Stoke University Hospital, which had purchased a new 3D printer just two years previously.

Costing the hospital trust around £150,000 (about $188K), the machine is the only one of its kind in the country, and was a crucial part of the effort to save the patient’s jawbone. A 3D model was designed from a scan of his remaining intact jaw and printed out as a mold, which was then used to reconstruct the jaw using bone taken from his fibula. The operation lasted around 12 hours and was a great success.

According to Daya Gahir, consultant in maxillofacial and head and neck surgery, the hospital does “at least 40 major head and neck reconstructions per year. Around 10 to 15 cases will be done in this way using the printer.” The procedure is very intricate, and the hospital’s purchase of the 3D printer has revolutionized the way his team operates. “Some of the leg bone was taken then reshaped, as you have to replace bone with bone. We took away some of the skin from the leg as well and replanted it back into the neck. A face is not easy to reconstruct, it is intricate.”

New software for the 3D printer was developed last year, which allows the whole process to be planned and carried out within the hospital. Without this, Stephen may have had to travel to Germany for the operation to be completed, according to Gahir. Using the 3D printer in this way saves a lot of time and effort for patient and medical team alike, as well as cutting costs. Around £11,000 is saved for each case by carrying out the whole surgical process on-site.

Stephen is still in recovery and has praised the care he is receiving from staff, as well as the effectiveness of the surgery. “I am so pleased with the results,” he says, “you can’t tell the difference between the two sides of my mouth.”

March, 2017|Oral Cancer News|

Magnolia man joins exclusive trial in battle against cancer

Source: www.cantonrep.com
Author: Denise Sautters

Rich Bartlett is looking forward to getting back to his hobbies — woodworking and nature watching — and enjoying a good steak and potato dinner. Until then, though, he is in a fight for his life, one he plans to win.

Bartlett is a cancer patient and the first participant in a clinical trial at University Hospitals Seidman Cancer Center in Cleveland to test the safety of an immunotherapy drug — Pembrolizumab — when added to a regimen of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation therapy.

Back to the beginning
Bartlett went to the dentist in October for a checkup.

“He had a sore in his mouth he thought was an abscess,” explained his wife, Nancy Bartlett, who pointed out that, because radiation and chemo treatments cause the inside of the mouth to burn and blister, it is hard for Bartlett to talk.

“When the dentist looked at his sore, he sent Richard to a specialist in Canton, and in early November, he had a biopsy done. It came back positive for cancer.”

From there, he was referred to Dr. Pierre Lavertu, director of head and neck surgery and oncology at University Hospitals, and Dr. Chad Zender from the otolaryngology department, who did Bartlett’s surgery.

“They let us know it was serious,” said Nancy. “It had gone into the bone and the roof of the mouth, but they were not sure if it had gone into the lymph nodes. By the time we got through that appointment, it was the first part of December and (they) scheduled him for surgery on Dec. 22.”

The cancer tripled in size by then and the surgery lasted 10 hours. Doctors had to remove the tumor, all of the lymph nodes and parts of the jaw and the roof of Bartlett’s mouth.

“They harvested skin from his hand to rebuild the inside of his mouth, and took the veins and arteries and reattached everything through his (right) cheek,” she said. “He could not even have water until February because of the patch. He uses a feeding tube to eat now.”

The tube is temporary until Bartlett heals.

Clinical trial
Just before he started chemo and radiation therapies, the hospital called him about the clinical trial.

The trial is the first to use quadra-modality therapy — or four different types of therapy — against the cancer, according to Dr. Min Yao, the principal investigator.

Yao said Bartlett has squamous cell carcinoma of the oral cavity, with only a 50 percent chance of survival.

“Patients have surgery, then followed by six weeks of radiation and chemotherapy and immunotherapy,” Yao said in an email interview. “That is followed by six more months of immunotherapy, one dose every three weeks.”

Bartlett currently is in the radiation, chemotherapy and immunotherapy part of the study.

“It is too early to tell how he is responding,” said Yao. “His tumor has been resected. After the treatment, we will see them periodically with scans. Cancer often recurs in the first two years after treatment.”

Pembrolizumab originally was developed to activate the body’s immune system in the fight against melanoma. Former president Jimmy Carter was treated with the drug for his brain metastases from melanoma in 2015.

A truck driver by trade, Bartlett will undergo daily fluoride treatments for the rest of his life to protect his teeth.

“We did not realize until we got to Cleveland just how bad this was,” said Nancy. “When you have oral cancer, and they are getting ready to do radiation and chemo, you have to go have your teeth cleaned and examined and get anything done that needs to be done because radiation tends to compromise your blood flow in your mouth. That was a step we didn’t know.”

Although he was shocked to hear the outcome of that sore in his mouth, Bartlett is grateful to be a part of the trial.

“Who wouldn’t feel good about something like this? I mean, you got something that was used on Jimmy Carter, who is recovered and is now making public appearances again,” said Bartlett, who is looking forward to June when hopefully he can start eating again and enjoying his hobbies.

“I am very hopeful about this. The whole thing has been a trial. I have a dentist in Cleveland who said I was going to be in the fight of my life, and I am. I am in a huge fight. The chemotherapy is what has knocked me down the most, but I am very positive about the outcome of this.”

March, 2017|Oral Cancer News|

Artificial larynx implant helps throat cancer patient breathe and speak

Source: www.ctvnews.ca
Author: staff

Sixteen months after receiving an artificial larynx, a 56-year-old French man suffering from throat cancer can now whisper and breathe normally. A report published this week in the New England Journal of Medicine considers this to be a significant first achievement.

Thanks to the implant, a 56-year-old throat cancer patient can now whisper and breathe normally. © ChrisChrisW / Istock.com

Thanks to the implant, a 56-year-old throat cancer patient can now whisper and breathe normally. © ChrisChrisW / Istock.com

This is the first time that doctors have observed a patient with the implant long term recover functions such as breathing and speaking after the complete removal of the larynx. Thanks to an artificial voice box, implanted in 2015 at France’s Strasbourg-Hautepierre university hospital, the 56-year-old Frenchman, who lives in Alsace, can now whisper in a comprehensible manner and breathe normally.

The patient has also recovered his sense of smell, which was damaged by the removal of the larynx. Other than the vocal cords, the larynx features an upper valve, called the epiglottis, which closes when food passes down the throat to prevent it from entering the windpipe.

The prosthetic larynx was developed by a French company called Protip Médical. It consists of a rigid titanium and silicone structure replacing the larynx and a removable titanium part that mimics the function of the epiglottis.

The only problem that remains unresolved in the implant is the function of the epiglottis. As a result, the patient coughs from time to time when eating, as food accidentally enters the windpipe. However, the surgeons still consider the functioning implant a highly satisfactory achievement.

The current procedure used to return voice function to throat cancer patients involves puncturing the throat to insert a valve allowing air to pass from the windpipe to the esophagus.

A few doubts remain about the long-term effectiveness of the implant. For example, blockages caused by dried out mucus and secretions from the lungs and nose could be a risk. Another concern is the risk of rejection, particularly in cancer patients who have undergone radiotherapy or chemotherapy treatments.

As for patient comfort, further testing will establish how the mobility of the patient’s neck is affected by the presence of a rigid tube in the throat.

“This implant is constantly evolving and the next patients will benefit from substantial improvements,” notably to improve the passage of food down the throat, said lead researcher Nihal Engin Vrana.

Each year more than 12,000 new cases of throat cancer are diagnosed in the U.S.. Larynx transplants remain extremely rare worldwide and are generally used in cases unrelated to cancer, which represent a small majority.

Source: The report is published in the New England Journal of Medicine.

January, 2017|Oral Cancer News|

Hog jowls and clementines: A bid to awaken cancer patients’ ruined sense of taste

Source: www.statnews.com
Author: Eric Boodman

The medicines were rich and strange, their active ingredients so particular they sounded fictional.

neurogastronomy_illustration_mollyferguson_121616-1600x900

Credit: Molly Ferguson for Stat

One regimen involved jowl bits from Red Wattle hogs; the pigs were bred from sows named Fart Blossom and Hildegard, and had spent the end of their lives gorging on acorns, hickory nuts, apples, and black walnuts. Another experimental drug included the flesh of the Ubatuba pepper, picked when it was red as a Santa suit, dried at precisely 90 degrees for five days, and then pulverized, seeds and all, into a fragrant, pinkish powder.

These concoctions were meant to be therapeutic — but they hadn’t been devised by pharmacologists or biochemists or even lab techs. Their inventors had no scientific training whatsoever: They were celebrity Montreal chef Frédéric Morin and renowned Atlanta pastry-maker Taria Camerino, who would be facing off in an unusual culinary duel. They’d been challenged to help solve a problem that most clinicians and neuroscientists aren’t able to — the impairment of taste in cancer patients who undergo chemotherapy and radiation.

This cook-off in the University of Kentucky’s demo kitchen was the opener for the second annual Neurogastronomy Symposium, which was born over a boozy, late-night chance encounter between neuropsychologist Dan Han and Morin in the chef’s restaurant. Together, they envisioned a conference that would combine neuroscience, agriculture, history, nutrition, medicine, and cooking — to understand the art and science of why we eat what we eat, and how we could change it for the better.

It isn’t your everyday scientific conference. It’s the kind of conference where invited neuroscientists and neurologists experience the flavor wheel of bourbon, sampling Woodford Reserve along with hazelnuts and then orange flesh to see how the liquor migrates into different parts of the palate. The kind of conference where a panel discussion on the science of taste includes a hip New York chef telling a roomful of dietitians that those with binge eating problems should “have sex! It will take your mind away from food.” The kind of conference where attendees suck lollipops designed to evoke the 1812 Overture.

You know, that kind of conference.

But behind the foodie fun is hard science and a real clinical conundrum. Killing cancer cells means killing healthy cells along with them. The poisons of chemo and the waves of radiation are especially good at taking apart the DNA of fast-dividing cells. That can help stop the out-of-control expansion of tumors. But the nerve cells in the nose and mouth replenish themselves quickly, and so they die, too.

The resulting changes in taste and smell might seem like a small price to pay for a lifesaving treatment. Yet one’s desire to get up in the morning can be intimately connected to one’s ability to enjoy food. Lose your ability to taste properly and your mental and physical health — which, for cancer patients, is already fragile — can suffer even more.

“Many people stop eating,” said Gary Beauchamp, a sensory perception researcher at the nonprofit Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. “It is a potentially lethal effect.”

The loss of taste and smell is among the most common complaints of cancer patients. But those don’t necessarily bounce back even if you’re lucky enough to transition from patient to survivor.

“The hope is that some of those taste abilities will come back. We’re all different. Some regain it very quickly; others — like myself — might not at all,” said Barry Warner, a 59-year old who was treated for throat cancer seven years ago, and one of the cook-off’s taste-testers. “The bottom line is, if after a period of time, it doesn’t come back, it’s something you’ll have to adapt to. There isn’t going to be anything the same as it was.”

Most doctors hardly ask about this side effect, and when they do, they don’t have much to offer besides apologies and explanations. Their focus is keeping you alive.

“You have no resources to help you deal with the taste aspect,” Morin said in an interview with STAT about a week before he flew to the conference, as he drove to visit a friend with late-stage metastatic cancer. “Who is the next specialist you talk to? It’s the nutritionist: an accountant of nutrition, a bookkeeper of calories. They don’t become nutritionists because they relish the smell and taste of the skin of a roast chicken.”

diamond-break

Camerino does a lot more than “relish” smells and tastes. By her own account, she lives through her sense of taste.

“I taste everything — like, everything,” she told STAT. “I taste colors, people, emotions, music … I can’t remember songs or movies, but I know what everything tastes like.”

That’s not just because she’s a celebrated pastry chef, who has devoted decades of her life to subtle differences in food. It’s also because she’s synesthetic. The unusual wiring of her brain makes her experience the world through her tongue. Sights and sounds conjure up complex flavors, allowing her to become a kind of mystical Willy Wonka, with top hat and plum velvet jacket swapped out in favor of big round glasses and snaking blue tattoos.

Camerino talks about the flavors she perceives the way some saints talk about God — as an experience accessible only through metaphor. And just as monks might interpret their visions through the lens of scripture, she uses her training in French patisserie, Japanese confectionery, and coastal Italian cooking to pinpoint what exactly it is she’s tasting at that moment — and, in some cases, to reproduce it.

When she was tasked with “profiling” the chef and television personality Andrew Zimmern in a cake, she was startled that the first thing to appear on her palate was prawn shell. “I was like, ‘Are you kidding?’” she said.

“How do I take a prawn shell and put it into a cake? You toast it. I toasted it low, for a long time, so it never burned and it didn’t become overly sharp, and then I ground it into a powder and I folded it into the cake batter, so all you got was the essence, nothing overwhelming.” The other flavors she had felt — green Szechuan peppercorns, bay leaves, miso, Asian pear — became accompanying syrups and jellies, until she was confident her cake perfectly embodied Zimmern’s spirit.

Sometimes, she’ll get flavors she’s never had before, and only through extensive research can she identify them. A band she was taste-profiling a few years ago conjured up a tang that turned out to be a Southeast Asian fruit called calamansi. A man she met around 2001 evoked a taste that turned out to be mare’s milk, as used in Tibetan and Mongolian cuisine. She is sure of it, even though she’s never tasted horse milk of any kind.

When Han, the neuropsychologist at the University of Kentucky, emailed to invite Camerino to the conference, she thought it was a joke. Like most people, she had never heard the term “neurogastronomy.” After all, it was only coined in 2011, in the title of a Yale neuroscientist’s book. She wasn’t sure that such a conference existed.

But after a back-and-forth by phone and email, she agreed. The arrangement had a fairy-tale ring to it: The woman for whom taste is everything would concoct a special dish that could rekindle patients’ pleasure in food.

diamond-break

Barry Warner’s first hint of flavor began at least as early as 1957, in the months before he was born. His mother had grown up on a farm southeast of Louisville, where dinner came from the pigpen, the cowshed, and the vegetable patch. That kind of country cooking was what she learned and continued making into her adult years, and during her pregnancy, its fragrant particles filtered down though her digestive system and into her amniotic fluid, shaping what Warner would like once he was born.

He was raised among the rolling corn and tobacco farms of Nelson County, in a small town with a single stoplight. His parents weren’t farmers, but starting at 11 or 12, he helped neighbors to bale hay, loading it into trucks and stacking it in barns for the winter. He loved his mother’s cooking: cornbread sticks made in a cast-iron skillet, cooked cabbage, pork chops soft enough to cut with your fork.

But in 2009, eating became painful. “Every time I tried to extend my mouth wide enough to take a bite out of a sandwich or a hamburger, I had a burning sensation in my tongue,” he said. He went to see a friend, an oral surgeon who’d removed his wisdom teeth years before, and asked him to take a look.

“He thought it was cancer, but he didn’t tell me that and he didn’t tell my wife until he got confirmation,” Warner said. “I didn’t know about it until then.”

Throat cancer was one assault on his body and his ability to eat, but the treatment brought about many more. Five days a week, for seven weeks, he would be immobilized onto a steel table and inserted into a machine for radiation. He also got periodic rounds of chemo.

Those didn’t just dampen his ability to taste; they also left him without saliva and made him taste flavors that weren’t there.

“It really starts out when you’re undergoing chemotherapy, that metal taste you get,” said Warner. “It seems like no matter what you eat, the taste isn’t right.”

He could have been tasting the drugs in his bloodstream — but he could also have been experiencing what some call phantom flavors. Those phantoms, some scientists say, can be the product of a taste system that is no longer in control, like a trained horse gone crazy, bucking off its rider and reverting to a frenzy of kicks and twists.

“Taste has an interesting function beyond what you experience when you eat,” said Linda Bartoshuk, a taste perception expert at the University of Florida. “Nature wants you to eat, so the taste system can be used to turn off sensations that might interfere with your eating. Taste input actually turns down pain. How does taste do that? It does that by sending a lot if inhibitory messages in the brain.”

Take away those inhibitory messages, Bartoshuk said, and those unwanted sensations come roaring in.

Warner no longer tastes those stomach-turning flavors — but he can’t taste anything else either. He might be able to identify mashed potatoes, say, by the texture, and maybe a little by the smell. But beyond that, he wouldn’t be sure what he is eating.

Now, at the lunch before the cook-off, Warner took tiny bites of the squash-and-goat-cheese appetizer that was in front of him. Partially he was saving room for the two different regimens that were on their way to try to rekindle some of those lost gastronomic pleasures for him and a fellow survivor. But that is also just how he’s had to eat since treatment: slowly, mostly without talking, and with little enjoyment, forcing himself to take one small bite after another.

“I don’t really get hungry,” he said. “You might sit down at your meal thinking about how good it tastes. Instead, I’m counting how many bites it will take me to get through it. And you never think about how much eating is part of your social life. That changes dramatically.”

Warner has kept some of his habits anyway. He still drinks bourbon socially — a taste wired into him as a Kentuckian — and he can smell it, and feel the burn of the first sip. And he still drinks a cup of coffee every morning. But he can’t taste either one.

He doesn’t complain about these long-term side effects. “I am so grateful and indebted to the doctors that saved my life, I consider my hearing loss and my loss of taste just … collateral damage,” he said. “Seven years ago, when I was getting my diagnosis, the odds of me having this conversation were less than a flip of a coin.”

Still, part of him wishes that he could experience what he remembers of food and drink. He hopes he’ll wake up one day and be able to taste his coffee.

diamond-break

Camerino has devoted herself to sweets, studying chocolate-making and practicing the way to twist a pastry bag so a spritz cookie has the perfect swirl. But suffering, loss, illness, pain — those, too, have distinct flavors for her.

She grew up in a poor, abusive household in Gainesville, Fla., with a heroin-addicted father. “Everything tasted like too-salty water, the kind that you gargle when you’re sick and you’re not supposed to drink,” she said.

She remembers a year when they ate little but white rice and packaged brown gravy. She remembers struggling through eating disorders without ever seeing a doctor. She remembers the smell of the Miller High Life her father drank. Yet she also remembers her mother getting a job at the African and Asian languages department at the University of Florida, being invited over and presented with foods she had never imagined. Those visits pushed her into studying linguistics.

It was only a chance encounter with a pastry magazine that made her switch course: “I was like, ‘That’s what I want to do. I want to create something that’s bite-sized that can change your perspective on life.’”

The invitation to the Neurogastronomy Symposium seemed like a perfect opportunity. And as with many of her concoctions, she would be guided by both her synesthesia and her culinary education. This time, though, the food would be a kind of medicine. “I’ve wanted to do something meaningful with this superpower,” she said.

She had been told next to nothing about the patients she would be cooking for. Instead, she both did external research — and turned inward. She began conjuring up the flavors evoked by cancer, by chemotherapy, by terrible pain. They were not so different from what she tasted during the long recovery from a motorcycle accident she had this summer: something acidic, a bit like blood, with an astringent metallic edge. She wasn’t surprised that this was the same taste that many cancer patients got when undergoing treatment.

“The first thing I wanted to do was dim that down. If I can gain control of the taste in their mouth, if I can get rid of it, I can give them some relief,” she said. “Blood or metal, the best way to compete with that would be citrus. I’m not using a really strong citrus: Clementines are sweet, they have a little more of a delicate flavor. The clementine will cut through — it will literally cut through — the blood and metallic taste, so now I have a pathway through into their experience.”

Yet she also knew that some patients didn’t have much sense of taste left at all, so she wanted flavors that, to her, produce vibrations felt beyond the mouth: basil and pistachio. “By using the basil, now I’m opening up from the top of the mouth to the top of the forehead, that’s where basil affects you, now I have their whole attention. And pistachio, it has a floral quality, it’s reminiscent of the Mediterranean, of the ocean.”

She wasn’t completely giving up on the mouth, though. She thought of how fat can fall soothingly on the palate, another sensation beyond taste. Butter was too heavy, too overpowering, she said. Instead she went with olive oil.

The medication she came up with would be delicate, fragrant, and not too sweet: a clementine upside-down cake with a dab of basil and pistachio pesto, crowned with a scoop of olive oil gelato.

She wasn’t sure how well it would work. She had never made it before, and had no plans to try it out before she arrived at the event. She knew nothing about these particular patients. Yet as she was preparing for the symposium, she became so excited about the idea of helping patients with taste loss that she even began to dream up a lozenge with the same goal.

“I’ve made people experience emotions by combining particular flavors,” she said. “If I’ve made them experience disappointment, satisfaction, joy, then it may be possible to activate certain parts of the brain and make them experience all of that even without their sense of taste.”

diamond-break

The day of the challenge began snowy and gray. Two days before, fatty jowl bacon had been fetched from a long-bearded breeder of Red Wattle hogs, and driven 60 miles back to Lexington, for whatever taste-saving concoction Morin, the Montreal chef, had in mind. Now, the University of Kentucky chef-in-residence Bob Perry was picking up last-minute ingredients from the research farm where the Ubatuba peppers grow.

Morin, it turns out, hadn’t really planned his dish out in advance. He’d asked for some vegetables, wine, bacon, spices. He’d figure something out. Camerino, on the other hand, arrived at the university’s demo kitchen with her own ice cream maker and a duffel bag of tools — infrared thermometers, weird tweezers, Q-tips, an offset spatula, an elaborate assortment of spoons. She was going to bring her own olive oil, too, but thought that might be overkill.

Before they headed into the kitchen, the clinicians and scientists and chefs and sommeliers gathered around Warner and another cancer survivor named Erica Radhakrishnan like overeager medical students crowding around a rare and fascinating case. They peppered the two with questions. What was their most memorable meal? Are there textures you find comforting? Did you eat processed foods before? What about the savory taste, which the Japanese call umami?

Then, with whatever intel they could gather, the chefs began to cook. Morin peeled potatoes and fried bacon. Camerino cracked eggs with a single hit on the side of the bowl, a quick squeeze and a pull.

Camerino adjusted her recipe slightly, making room for local ingredients. She incorporated a sprinkle of Ubatuba paprika into a syrup for the cake; she used molasses boiled down from the green juice of sorghum grass instead of cane sugar.

She had been nervous when she arrived, but now she was in her element. She needs no timer to know exactly when something should come out of the oven, perfectly brown. She tasted a spoonful of the basil-pistachio pesto. “This is a trip to Sicily,” she said. “Your marriage is struggling, it’s winter, you’ve lost the ability to communicate … and you go to Sicily with your partner. That’s what this is.”

On the other side of the kitchen, Morin was breaking up the fractal patterns of Romanesco broccoli into tiny bits of chartreuse, as a topping for his potato soup. “If he does not taste anything, I also have a bottle of bourbon,” he muttered in Québécois French.

The kitchen began to fill with the smells of bacon and basil, a hint of curry, and the sweetness of cake. The dishes were ready. At the last second, Camerino spooned a glistening white ball of gelato onto the two desserts.

The chefs each came forward to introduce their dish. Then they pulled back toward the kitchen. And with everyone watching, Warner and Radhakrishnan took careful bites, rolling around first the soup and then the cake in their mouths. The chefs looked on, tense, as Warner primly wiped his moustache.

Both tasters complimented the moisture of the cake and the aromas of the soup, the way the spices enlivened the purée, the way the ice cream made it easier to swallow the cake. They would not reveal the winner until the next day, at the end of the conference, in an auditorium full of academics and clinicians.

But a few minutes later, when the room’s attention had moved elsewhere, Radhakrishnan, whose sense of taste has largely come back after two battles with breast cancer, turned to Warner.

“Barry, are you able to taste anything?” she asked, gesturing toward the cake.

There was a pause. Warner looked serious, like he was concentrating on a math problem. “No,” he said quietly.

It might have worked for Warner while he was undergoing chemo and tasting its metallic tang. Or it might have worked for someone else. Just as Warner’s pleasure in food had been shaped in complex ways — by his genes, by the country cooking he’d sampled in the womb and as a child, and then by those foods he’d grown to appreciate as an adult — his preferences were equally unique after he’d lost his sense of taste. After all, a loss is only a loss in relation to what came before.

To Camerino, the challenge was at once amazing and humbling. “I could have cried a lot — I cry really easily,” she said. The experiment only heightened her zeal: She is now working with a molecular sommelier to dream up four different lozenges for people with taste loss, and, for those without saliva, two aromatic sprays. She isn’t sure about the exact ingredients, but she is thinking citrus, basil, barley malt as a sweetener, and something reminiscent of anise.

Han hopes that these events for chefs and scientists can move from “fun preclinical challenges” to more rigorous research about what can actually help these patients and survivors. Morin is working on an app for cancer patients to share what helps for which kinds of taste loss, and there are other ideas in the works. “We’re doing very early studies to take stem cells to see if we could regrow the system,” said Beauchamp, the researcher from the Monell Center. “But we’re a long way from that.”

For now, Warner keeps to the regimen he’s turned to for seven years. He uses whomever he’s eating with as a timer for when he can stop making himself take bites. He smells coffee in the morning, sipping it as he heads into his sunroom to listen for birds. He feels that first burn of bourbon, and notices how it falls away with each subsequent sip.

December, 2016|Oral Cancer News|

Immunotherapy drug a ‘gamechanger’ for head and neck cancer

Source: www.theguardian.com
Author: staff

An immunotherapy drug hailed as a potential gamechanger in the treatment of cancer could soon offer new hope to patients with currently untreatable forms of the disease.

Nivolumab outperformed chemotherapy significantly in keeping relapsed head and neck cancer patients alive. Photograph: Alamy

Nivolumab outperformed chemotherapy significantly in keeping relapsed head and neck cancer patients alive. Photograph: Alamy

Nivolumab was found to extend the lives of relapsed patients diagnosed with head and neck cancers who had run out of therapy options. After a year of treatment, 36% of trial patients treated with the drug were still alive compared with 17% of those given standard chemotherapy.

Trial participants treated with nivolumab typically survived for 7.5 months, and some for longer. Middle-range survival for patients on chemotherapy was 5.1 months. The phase-three study, the last stage in the testing process before a new treatment is licensed, provided the first evidence of a drug improving survival in this group of patients.

Prof Kevin Harrington, from the Institute of Cancer Research, London, who led the British arm of the international trial, said: “Nivolumab could be a real gamechanger for patients with advanced head and neck cancer. This trial found that it can greatly extend life among a group of patients who have no existing treatment options, without worsening quality of life.

“Once it has relapsed or spread, head and neck cancer is extremely difficult to treat. So it’s great news that these results indicate we now have a new treatment that can significantly extend life, and I’m keen to see it enter the clinic as soon as possible.”

Before it can be offered on the NHS, the treatment will have to be approved by the European Medicines Agency and the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (Nice), which vets new therapies in England and Wales for cost-effectiveness.

Of the 361 patients enrolled in the trial, 240 were given nivolumab while the remaining 121 received one of three different chemotherapies. UK patients were assigned the chemotherapy drug docetaxel, the only treatment currently approved for advanced head and neck cancer by Nice.

Patients whose tumours tested positive for the HPV virus, which is linked to cervical cancer and may be spread by oral sex, did especially well. They typically survived for 9.1 months, compared with 4.4 months when treated with chemotherapy. More than half of patients relapse within three to five years.

Nivolumab is one of a new class of antibody drugs called checkpoint inhibitors that help the immune system fight cancer. It works by blocking signals from tumour cells that stop the immune system attacking.

The drug is already licensed for the treatment of advanced melanoma skin cancer and non-small-cell lung cancer in the UK. However while Nice has backed its use on the NHS for melanoma it has so far refused to recommend making the drug freely available to lung cancer patients.

Prof Paul Workman, chief executive of the Institute of Cancer Research, said: “Nivolumab is one of a new wave of immunotherapies that are beginning to have an impact across cancer treatment. This phase-three clinical trial expands the repertoire of nivolumab even further, showing that it is the first treatment to have significant benefits in relapsed head and neck cancer.

“We hope regulators can work with the manufacturer to avoid delays in getting this drug to patients who have no effective treatment options left to them.”

October, 2016|Oral Cancer News|

Men with throat cancer will soon outnumber women with cervical cancer In The US

Source: www.houstonpublicmedia.org
Author: Carrie Feibel

The national increase in cases of oropharyngeal cancer related to the human papilloma virus is troubling, because there is no screening test to catch it early, like the Pap test for cervical cancer.

The oropharynx is the area of the throat behind the mouth, and includes the tonsils and the base of the tongue. Oropharyngeal cancer is increasing in both men and women, but for reasons that aren’t well understood, male patients are outnumbering female patients by five to one, according to Dr. Erich Sturgis, a head and neck surgeon at MD Anderson Cancer Center.

“It’s usually a man, and he notices it when he’s shaving. He notices a lump there,” Sturgis said. “That lump is actually the spread of the cancer from the tonsil or the base of the tongue to a lymph node. That means it’s already stage three at least.”

In the U.S., the number of oropharyngeal cancers caused by HPV are predicted to exceed the number of cervical cancers by 2020, Stugis said.

“With cervical cancer, we’ve seen declining numbers well before we had vaccination, and that’s due to the Pap smear being introduced back in the late 50s,” he said. “But we don’t have a screening mechanism for pharynx cancer.”

Research on an effective screening test for early-stage pharynx cancer is still underway. The reasons for the disproportionate effect on men are unknown. One theory is that people are engaging in more oral sex, but that doesn’t explain why men are more affected than women. Some suspect hormonal differences between men and women may be involved, and others hypothesize that it takes longer for women to “clear” the viral infection from their genitals, compared to men, according to Sturgis.

One of Sturgis’s patients, Bert Noojin, is an attorney in Alabama. He felt a little knot in his neck in early 2011. It took three trips to his primary care doctor, then a visit with an otolaryngologist before he was referred for a biopsy. Noojin was diagnosed with oropharyngeal cancer, but he still felt fine.

“It was still hard for me to believe I was sick in any way,” he recalled. “I didn’t even have a serious sore throat.”

After being diagnosed, Noojin came to MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston for a second opinion and to pursue treatment. It was less than three months from when he first felt the knot, but an oncologist warned him the cancer was spreading fast.
“He said ‘Well, you need to start treatment right away’ and I said, ‘Well, do I have a week or 10 days to go home and get some things in order?’ and he said ‘No.’”

“He said ‘If you leave here, and you’re not part of our treatment plan when you leave here, I don’t think we’ll be able to help you.’ That is how far this disease had progressed, in such a very short time.”

The prognosis for HPV-related oropharyngeal cancer is good, especially compared to patients whose throat cancer is caused by heavy use of tobacco or alcohol, according to Sturgis. Between 75 and 80 percent of patients with the HPV-related type survive more than five years.

But the treatment is difficult, and can include “long-term swallowing problems, long-term problems with carotid artery narrowing, and long-term troubles with the teeth and jaw bone, and things that can cause a need for major surgeries later.”

In the summer of 2011, Noojin began chemotherapy and radiation at MD Anderson. He struggled with pain, nausea, and swallowing, and had to get a temporary feeding tube.

“Your throat just shuts down,” he said. “You’re burned on the inside. Just swallowing your own saliva, as an instinct, hurts.”

Noojin lost 45 pounds during treatment but feels lucky to have survived. He went back to his law practice in Alabama.

Noojin learned that cancers related to HPV, which is sexually transmitted, are cloaked in shame and guilt.

He experienced this first-hand when his marriage fell apart during his recovery. His wife was traumatized by the difficult months of treatment, he said. In addition, she irrationally blamed herself for giving him the virus, even though he was probably exposed many years earlier. He tried to comfort her and dispel her guilt, but they eventually divorced.

“I was married over two decades, but I was married previously, and she was married previously,” he said. “It just makes no sense for any of this to have a stigma.”

An estimated 80 percent of America women and 90 percent of men contract HPV at some point in their lives, usually when they’re young and first become sexually active. But the cancers caused by HPV can take years to develop.

“It’s a virus. It’s not anybody’s fault,” Noojin said.

He echoed the public health experts in calling for an end to the silence and shame, and a shift to a focus on prevention.

“All of what I went through, and all of what hundreds of thousands of men, and women, because of cervical cancer – what they have gone through is avoidable for the next many generations … if we just got serious about making sure our kids get vaccinated.”

The series of three shots can be given as early as age nine, but must be completed before the age of 26 to be effective. Currently, the completion rate for young women in the U.S. is less than 50 percent. Among young men, it’s less than 30 percent. That’s why experts warn these particular cancers will still be a problem decades from now.

September, 2016|Oral Cancer News|

Incisionless robotic surgery offers promising outcomes for oropharyngeal cancer patients

Source: medicalxpress.com
Author: press release, Henry Ford Health System

A new study from researchers at Henry Ford Hospital finds an incisionless robotic surgery – done alone or in conjunction with chemotherapy or radiation – may offer oropharyngeal cancer patients good outcomes and survival, without significant pain and disfigurement.

Patients with cancers of the base of tongue, tonsils, soft palate and pharynx who underwent TransOral Robotic Surgery, or TORS, as the first line of treatment experienced an average three-year survival from time of diagnosis.

Most notably, the study’s preliminary results reveal oropharyngeal cancer patients who are p16 negative – a marker for the human papilloma virus, or HPV, that affects how well cancer will respond to treatment – have good outcomes with TORS in combination with radiation and/or chemotherapy.

“For non-surgical patients, several studies have shown that p16 positive throat cancers, or HPV- related throat cancers, have better survival and less recurrence than p16 negative throat cancers,” says study lead author Tamer Ghanem, M.D., Ph.D., director of Head and Neck Oncology and Reconstructive Surgery Division in the Department of Otolaryngology-Head & Neck Surgery at Henry Ford Hospital.

“Within our study, patients treated with robotic surgery had excellent results and survival, irrespective of their p16 status.”

Study results will be presented Sunday, Sept. 18 at the 2016 American Academy of Otolaryngology-Head and Neck Surgery (AAO-HNS) annual meeting in San Diego.

Led by Dr. Ghanem, Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit was among the first in the country to perform TORS using the da Vinci Surgical System. TORS offers patients an option to remove certain head and neck cancer tumors without visible scarring, while preserving speech and the ability to eat.

With TORS, surgeons can access tumors through the mouth using the slender operating arms of the da Vinci, thus not requiring an open skin incision.

Unlike traditional surgical approaches to head and neck cancer that require a large incision and long recovery, TORS patients are able to return to their normal lives only a few days after surgery without significant pain and disfigurement.

For the study, Dr. Ghanem and his colleagues wanted to take a closer look at the effectiveness of TORS for oropharyngeal cancer patients. They reviewed overall three-year survival, cancer control and metastasis, as well as the effect of p16 status on these variables.

The study included 53 Henry Ford oropharyngeal cancer patients who had TORS. Among them, 83 percent were male, 77 percent were Caucasian, and the mean age was 60.8 years. Thirty-seven percent had TORS alone, while more than 11 percent had TORS with radiation therapy, and more than half received chemotherapy and radiation therapy.

Thirty-seven percent had TORS alone, 11.4 percent received radiation therapy, and 50 percent received chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Eighty-one percent of patients had p16+ disease.

The study shows patients with a p16 negative marker had high survival (100 percent) and low cancer recurrence when TORS was the first line of treatment, as well as when TORS was followed by chemotherapy or radiation therapy.

The majority of patients (63 percent) were able to receive a lower dose of radiation after TORS, which reduces the risk of radiation side effects.

While Dr. Ghanem notes the study’s results are not enough to change clinical practice, it does demonstrate that TORS alone or in conjunction with adjuvant radiation or chemotherapy is an acceptable treatment option for oropharyngeal cancer patients regardless of p16 status.

September, 2016|Oral Cancer News|