“Tamoxifen ups second breast cancer risk - Presstv” plus 4 more |
- Tamoxifen ups second breast cancer risk - Presstv
- Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure participants take steps in hope of ... - Cleveland Plain Dealer
- Cancer couldn't shake her spirit - Monterey County Herald
- Cancer fighter enjoying new life - Las Vegas Review Journal
- Ohio's 'Tour' speeds away - Columbus Dispatch
Tamoxifen ups second breast cancer risk - Presstv Posted: 30 Aug 2009 07:20 AM PDT While tamoxifen has long been prescribed to treat breast cancer, a new study links the drug to the development of a second tumor in consumers.
Despite the development of many newer drugs, tamoxifen -- which prevents tumors from being fuelled by the sex hormone estrogen -- has still remained the gold standard in treating hormone sensitive tumors. According to the study published in Cancer Research, the long-term use of the common breast cancer drug places the consumer at an increased risk of developing a more aggressive, difficult-to-treat tumor. Tamoxifen lowers the reoccurrence risk of estrogen-positive breast cancers by 60%. It, however, increases the risk of developing a second ER negative (estrogen receptor negative) tumor in the opposite breast by 440%. Scientists urged women to continue taking the medication despite the findings of their study, adding that the odds of developing a second tumor is very low in these individuals. PKH/HGH This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure participants take steps in hope of ... - Cleveland Plain Dealer Posted: 30 Aug 2009 03:09 AM PDT by Regina Brett, Plain Dealer Columnist A world without breast cancer. In that world, tens of thousands more women would live to old age, to have children and grandchildren, to celebrate graduations, holidays, weddings. That's the ultimate goal of every Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. A world without breast cancer. Every year, thousands join the race wearing pink In Memory of . . . signs on their backs. Some wear photos. Some walk in memory of Mommy. I walk in memory of my aunts Francie, Maureen and Veronica and my co-worker Janet McCue. I walk in celebration of Mary, Kathy, Ginny, Dianne, Sheila, Joy, Arlene, Sandy, Kaye, Cheryl, Joan, Mary Lou and Wendy. Every year I add more women. I also include those with genetic high risks for breast cancer who had the courage to have their breasts removed to ensure a long life: Bridget, Patty, Karen and my precious daughter, Gabrielle. Every year in this country 40,000 women die from breast cancer. Moms. Wives. Daughters. Aunts. Nieces. Grandmas. Every year some 160,000 more women get diagnoses. The good news is they keep finding more ways to diagnose it earlier and treat it more successfully. Cancer is not a death sentence, although it sure feels like it the day you hear the big C word. I heard it 11 years ago. I've attended the Race for the Cure ever since. There's still time to recruit a team and collect donations. The race takes place on Saturday, Sept. 12, at Malls B and C, in downtown Cleveland. If you share our vision, here's how you can help eradicate breast cancer. Protect yourself. Do a breast self-exam every month. They say 1 in 9 women will get breast cancer in her lifetime, so on the 9th of every month, examine your breasts. Call your doctor if there are any changes. Protect the women you love. On the 9th, remind every woman you love to do a self-exam. Why? The sooner you find cancer, the more treatable and curable it is. Cancer that leaves the breast is what kills people. Get a mammogram. Have one every year as soon as you hit 40. If you have a history of breast cancer, ask your doctor how soon you need one. Know your family history. Don't let cancer be a family secret. Learn all you can about any cancer that runs through your family. Get a clinical exam. Every year when you get your annual OB-GYN checkup, ask the doctor to examine your breasts. Form a team to fight cancer. Up to 75 percent of the race money raised stays in Northeast Ohio. It covers screening, treatment, services and education for uninsured or underinsured women. Around 25 percent pays for research to discover the causes of breast cancer and look for a cure. Donate to save lives. Money raised pays for free mammograms, medical treatment for breast cancer patients who can't afford care, support groups, prescription refills and transportation to medical appointments. It covers education about early detection and the latest treatment options. Volunteer. Race organizers need people to help with registration, set-up, security and site restoration. Sleep in for the Cure. If you can't or don't want to race or walk, you can still register. You can join us by dreaming about a cure. What a great dream to share: A world without breast cancer.
For previous columns visit cleveland.com/brett This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
Cancer couldn't shake her spirit - Monterey County Herald Posted: 30 Aug 2009 01:22 AM PDT During the 10 years that she fought the loneliest of all battles, Carol Hatton coped by devoting herself almost entirely to others. She was just a month past her 60th birthday and only weeks into a new role as a first-time grandmother when she died Aug. 22 of breast cancer. It is a disease she fought ferociously, not only for herself but for everybody else. Hatton will be remembered on the Peninsula as the most significant force behind an initiative that raised $2.5 million in about two years for the new, state-of-the-art Breast Care Center at Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula. Friends insist that nobody could inspire people to write a check for a good cause as effectively as Hatton, whose passion and enthusiasm were contagious. "She was just so sensitive to people's interest in the betterment of the community, and she knew exactly what it took to reach out to people who could afford to support our needs at the Breast Care Center," said Dr. Susan Roux, medical director of the center. "People didn't write checks out of obligation after they talked to Carol. She made it something you wanted to do." Those gifts also proved invaluable at All Saints' Episcopal Day School and Santa Catalina School. Hatton worked as development director at both schools before coming to the Community Hospital Foundation. She also worked as a speech therapist for children, and remained dedicated to the cause of children's health and education through her life. "In all of my years with Carol, I never once heard her say that something couldn't be done," said Jan Dunn, coordinator of the Breast Care Center. "Her level of commitment and her enthusiasm (were) infectious. She looked beyond herself in everything she did."Her last day at work with the foundation was Aug. 13 — just nine days before she died. Al Alvarez, director of development for the foundation, said she took a temporary leave of absence to adjust to some new medications that were taking a toll on her.
'Absolutely radiant'
"Until that date, she not only was at work, she was hard at work," he said. "She was making sure there would be no slip-ups during the six or eight weeks she planned to be away, and that everybody would be completely up to speed in her absence. She was a remarkably strong person." Joan Wellington, Hatton's best friend, said she was her usual, vibrant self, and looked "absolutely radiant" when she attended an engagement party for Wellington's son seven days before she died. "She was very much her ebullient self — warm, loving, sharing in everybody else's happiness, which was always her thing," Wellington said. "And then, a week later, it was over. None of us saw it coming." Nor did Hatton. Friends say she was typically cheerful and optimistic to the end, and never allowed herself to sink into complaint. She'd had a good ride, she told people. "A lot of women who were diagnosed around the same time I was aren't around anymore. I feel lucky," she once told Wellington.
'Role model'
Darryle Pollack was diagnosed with an aggressive case of breast cancer 14 years ago — four years before Hatton — shortly after moving to Carmel with her new husband. She said she knew almost no one, had no support group and was in the throes of depression when she walked into Hatton's office at All Saints' Day School, where Pollack's son had recently started classes. "I said, 'You probably don't even remember me, but I met you the other night at a dinner,'" Pollack recalled. "I told her, 'I've been diagnosed with breast cancer, I just started chemo, I don't know anybody here and I'm feeling terrible and desperately lonely. Would you be my friend?'" Pollack said Hatton stood up, came from behind the desk, locked her in an embrace and said, "Not only will I be your friend, but my friend Joan (Wellington) will be your friend, too." Six hours later, when Pollack returned to school to pick up her son, Hatton and Wellington were standing outside waiting for her. She said they basically adopted her, supporting her through treatments until, against steep odds, her cancer was vanquished. Four years after Pollack went into remission, Hatton was diagnosed. "We all thought I would be the one in those shoes, but now it was Carol," she said. "And not once did I ever feel anything but love and support from her, even though she was now the one with breast cancer and mine was gone. She taught me so much about character and fortitude." Friend and fundraising colleague Suzanne Lehr, who was diagnosed with breast cancer about the same time, said Hatton never complained about her own battle with the disease. "She didn't share her personal suffering, even with her closest friends," Lehr said. "Carol was such an inspiration to us, such a role model, in that she never, ever felt sorry for herself. She'll forever live in our hearts for her dignity and her courage." Throughout her own struggle, Hatton went out of her way to contact anyone — including complete strangers — who had been diagnosed with cancer. She offered support, counsel, friendship, advice, a shoulder to cry on, a friendly and experienced ear and a sense of humor.
'Always the ringleader'
"Her sense of humor was her No. 1 characteristic. It was mischievous, almost impish. She was never one to pass up a good joke, unless it was at somebody else's expense," Alvarez said. Wellington recalled the day Hatton and some female friends went to Pebble Beach for lunch, and, because of remodeling, had to be shuttled from their cars rather than driving to the parking lot at The Beach Club. "When we came out, we waited and waited, but there was no shuttle," Wellington said. "So Carol, always the ringleader, spots a parked shuttle with keys in the ignition, yells 'Hop in, girls!' starts the engine and drives us all back to our cars."
'Lights of her life'
Most important, friends said, was her family: daughters Lindsay Hatton McClelland, a financial analyst and writer in Cambridge, Mass., and Brynn Hatton, who is working on a Ph.D. in modern art history at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill.; her husband of 37 years, David Hatton, a dentist who was her high school sweetheart; and her newborn granddaughter, Hazel, Lindsay's first child. She glowed like a Christmas tree whenever she talked about any of them. "They were the lights of her life," said Wellington, a physical therapist who at one time taught baby-fitness classes alongside Hatton. "My daughter, Paige, was born six weeks before Lindsay, so she always called me Mother One, and I called her Mother Two. "And for a very short time, she was Grandmother Two."
Memorial contributions in Hatton's honor may be made to George Mark Children's House, her favorite charity, at www.georgemark.org. More information about Community Hospital's Breast Care Center can be found at www.chomp.org.
Dennis Taylor can be reached at dtaylor@montereyherald.com or 646-4344. This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
Cancer fighter enjoying new life - Las Vegas Review Journal Posted: 30 Aug 2009 01:58 AM PDT "It was my challenge to keep people happy," the 84-year-old retiree said last week as he sat in his east Las Vegas home and looked at photographs of entertainers he worked with more than 30 years ago. Now his challenge is "just a bit more serious." "I want to stay cancer-free," he said. "I need time to get a friend a recording contract." It now appears, largely because of his participation in a unique national cancer trial, that he'll have the time to pitch the merits of a California singer and composer named Kyle to recording companies. "Listen to the lyrics," Layne said as he turned on a CD player. "I hope I can get him a contract. I know it's a long shot, because I'm not sure I have any of the right connections any more." The Navy veteran did have the right connections to keep himself alive. Two years ago, his primary care physician at a Las Vegas VA clinic, Dr. Stephen Billmyer, ordered tests that revealed a weakened Layne had cancer in his esophagus, the tube that carries food from the mouth to the stomach. Layne, who was suffering from internal bleeding, was referred to Dr. Gregory Obara, an oncologist at Comprehensive Care Centers of Nevada. "Esophageal cancer is one of the deadliest cancers," Obara said last week. "The results of treatments are usually quite poor, because it's not diagnosed in the early stages." Standard chemotherapy and radiation treatments didn't help Layne, whose real name is Seymour Lifschin. "I used Bill Layne professionally because Seymour Lifschin didn't sound like show business," Layne explained. "Most people in Las Vegas know me as Bill Layne." No matter what name Obara's patient went by, it didn't appear he was much longer for this world. He could barely walk. He wanted to sleep all the time. He didn't want to eat, dropping 40 pounds. But then, with all regular treatments for his patient exhausted, Obara recalled that a colleague, Dr. Matthew Galsky, was the principal investigator in a national clinical trial. The trial was investigating whether Lapatinib, a drug used to treat HER2-positive breast cancer, could work on cancers found in other parts of the body. This form of breast cancer tests positive for a protein called human epidermal growth factor receptor-2, or HER2, which promotes cancer cell growth. In about one of every three breast cancers, cancer cells make an excess of HER2 because of a patient's gene mutation. The mutation can occur in many types of cancer, though it's most common in breast cancer. It turned out Layne's tumor had the HER2 protein that Lapatinib targets well in breast cancer. A little more than a year ago, Layne became part of a trial with 31 other people who seemed to have an excess of the HER2 protein. Patients with bladder, ovarian and uterine tumors were also treated with Lapatinib. "I was taking six huge pills a day for a year," said Layne, who also had a precancerous lesion removed from his esophagus at UCLA. He stopped the drug regimen this summer. "He no longer has cancer," Obara said. "He's doing excellent now." Now you see Layne walking through his neighborhood and polishing his Lexus before he takes it for a spin. His weight's back up, and he's dating again. "I never did get married," he said. "When I came to Las Vegas, I promised my father I wouldn't gamble." Galsky, who came to Las Vegas two years ago from the renowned Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York, said Layne is the only one in the trial to realize such success. A few others saw their cancers stabilize, Galsky said. What investigators have learned is "that we're probably not as smart as we think we are." It can't be the HER2 protein alone that was driving the cancer growth in the other 31 patients, he said. Still, Galsky said, it appears from Layne's success that a drug targeted to work on a specific abnormality can work, no matter where the cancer started. "Why it was unsuccessful in other patients is not clear and requires further investigation," Galsky said. "There might be something in his (Layne's) tumor that is similar to those with breast cancer that makes him so sensitive to this drug." A study soon to begin will look at two different protein abnormalities that investigators hope to target with a drug similar to Lapatinib. "We want to get a more personalized medical treatment for patients than just a one size fits all," Galsky said. He terms what has been learned from Layne's case as a "baby step" in the fight against cancer. "And when you get a series of baby steps, you really have something," he added. Layne doesn't want to hear about baby steps right now. On Wednesday, with CDs in hand, Layne jumped in his Lexus for a drive to California. He planned on "bending the ears" of some record producers. "I want to get that record contract for Kyle before I die." Contact reporter Paul Harasim at pharasim@reviewjournal.com or 702-387-2908. This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
Ohio's 'Tour' speeds away - Columbus Dispatch Posted: 30 Aug 2009 07:41 AM PDT
Ohio's "Tour de Lance" took its show on the road yesterday, with 2,265 riders following bicycling legend Lance Armstrong out of town and into the Appalachian foothills. The inaugural Pelotonia Tour ends today when the more than 500 who signed on for the 180-mile ride find their way back to Slate Run Metro Park in Canal Winchester without the seven-time Tour de France winner. Armstrong left town after his 100-mile ride to Athens. Other riders are expected back between 10:30 a.m. and 5 p.m. today. First out of the starting gate at 7:27 a.m. yesterday at Chemical Abstracts Service in Columbus, Armstrong didn't take long to separate from the others. Arriving first in Athens at 11:43 a.m., he nearly matched the 25-mph average speed that has won him more Tours than any athlete in history. "It's humbling to realize the dude can turn on the cranks and leave you behind," said Garth Prosser of Dublin, the third to arrive in Athens behind Armstrong and his training partner John Korioth. Spectators who blinked might have been sorry. "It was very quick," said Dan Olmstead of Grove City, who was waiting to catch a glimpse of Armstrong across from the Statehouse. "There he is, there he goes." Pelotonia is not a race -- the event consisted of single-day routes of 25, 50 and 100 miles, which were completed yesterday, and a two-day ride of 180 miles that included an overnight stay at Ohio University. Riders committed to raising $1,000 to $2,000 to benefit cancer research. Armstrong, a cancer survivor, was honorary chairman for Pelotonia. There were lots of aches and scrapes yesterday but no serious injuries, officials said. At least two riders were treated by emergency squads, one after a fall Downtown and another for an irregular heartbeat near Canal Winchester. The second man, a 58-year-old cancer survivor, was taken to Mount Carmel East hospital for observation. Some highlights from the road between Columbus and Athens: Columbus• 7 a.m.: Long lines form in front of portable toilets at Chemical Abstracts as those with riding bibs try to figure out the most efficient way of disrobing. "You just pull 'em down, that's what I heard," said Dan Hickey, 30, of Upper Arlington. • 7:10 a.m.: Shortly before the start, Abigail Wexner gathers her brood -- Harry, 15; Hannah, 14; David, 12; and Sarah, 11 -- to ride. Missing is her husband, Leslie H. Wexner, founder of Limited Brands. "Les broke his toe -- he walked into a chair last night," she said, adding that there was talk in the family circle that he had kicked the chair several times to avoid his 25-mile ride. • 7:23 a.m.: Misleading statement of the day: "I'm riding today as a cancer survivor and not as a guy who rides in bike races," Armstrong tells participants before leaving them in the dust. Canal Winchester• 8:30 a.m.: Cynthia "Sid" Myers, co-owner of Marcy Store and Diner on Rt. 674, is waiting with her camera to get a picture of Armstrong to hang in the restaurant. He's moving so fast that she has time only to shoot the back of his head. "I think that picture would have put us on the map," quips business partner Daniel Foreman. • 9:40 a.m.: Dr. Michael Adolph, a pain specialist at the Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital who is riding 180 miles, is having second thoughts at the 30-mile water stop. "Put me in the hot tub," he tells medical volunteers. They offer up moral support and 400 milligrams of ibuprofen. Amanda• 12:10 p.m.: Mike Bone, 58, is wiping down tables in the dining tent. The director of vending operations for Sanese Services is one of 60 volunteers the food-service company is providing for the three-day event. Owner Ralph Sanese is among them. "When they ask for volunteers and you know the owner of the company is here, it's hard to say no," Bone said. • 12:35 p.m.: Tom and Shirley Thornton have been sitting on their front porch for hours watching riders breeze by. "This is probably one of the biggest things I've ever seen in this town," says Shirley, a breast-cancer survivor. When the stream of riders becomes a trickle, they get up to go inside. Tom sums it up: "It's getting back to a small town again." Athens• 11:45 a.m.: Cameras flash and cowbells clang as Armstrong streaks across the 100-mile finish line. Swarmed by fans, he spends a few minutes signing autographs and chugging Gatorade. Maddie Hernke, 12, of Westerville, and her brother Luke, 9, are among the first to reach him. The cyclist signs Luke's T-shirt and a poster they made for their father, Kevin. "He was so nice," Maddie gushes. "He shook my hand -- I'm never washing it." As quickly as he arrived, Armstrong is whisked away in a black Lincoln Navigator. • 3:15 p.m.: Mike Ryan gets off his bike and is immediately embraced by his family. His wife Christina, 34, and daughters Grace, 8, and Claire, 6, are beaming. A skin-cancer survivor, the New Albany resident is a novice biker who rode 100 miles. He announces: "I'm not going to be on a bike anytime soon." This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
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