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This article is published at
http://www.phillynews.com/inquirer/97/Oct/03/front_page/GENE03.htm
©1997 Philadelphia Newspapers Inc.
Gene therapy has proven to be safe. Still unknown,
though, is its effectiveness.
One in a series of occasional articles on gene
therapy research.
By Donald C. Drake
INQUIRER STAFF WRITER
Joan and Donald Hardy didn't talk about the cancer in
Donald's chest as they drove to the University of Pennsylvania Medical Center on Sept. 19
for his monthly checkup. They always avoided the subject when he went to the
doctors. The fear that the cancer had started growing again was too frightening.
Donald Hardy had been making this trip for almost two years,
ever since he volunteered for a gene therapy experiment and let Penn
doctors infect him with genetically altered viruses designed to fight his cancer.
Hardy had mesothelioma, a rapidly fatal form of cancer that
attacked the chest wall and lining of the lungs. Hardy was the first mesothelioma patient
in the world to be treated with this type of therapy.
Mesothelioma has defied all forms of conventional therapy.
Practically all patients are dead or in advanced stages of the disease two years after
diagnosis. But in Hardy, the cancer had become mysteriously quiescent.
Still, whenever the couple made this trip to Penn, in the
back of their minds was the fear that this time the doctors would find something with
their physical exams and X-rays and CAT scans, that this time they would announce that the
cancer had started growing again.
It's now four years since James M. Wilson came to Penn from
the University of Michigan with the mandate to set up a world-class gene therapy program
and, it was hoped, to start curing diseases with a radically new type of treatment.
A lot has happened since he arrived in West Philadelphia
during a record-breaking March blizzard in 1993.
He's set up the Institute for Human Gene Therapy, which has
grown to 170 scientists and support staff, is financed with $20 million a year in
government and foundation grants and is housed in laboratories occupying five buildings on
the Penn campus, not counting two full floors that will be in a biomedical research
building now under construction.
In that time, Penn scientists have started human trials with
gene drugs for cystic fibrosis, the inherited liver disease OTC (ornithine
transcarbamylase), mesothelioma and brain cancer. Trials of drugs against melanoma and
colon, ovarian and breast cancer are being planned. The four drugs already in use,
which have been given to 54 patients, have turned out to be extremely safe. Other than
minor reactions such as mild fevers and skin rashes that quickly went away, the drugs have
had no side-effects.
But so far there's no evidence that any of the drugs have
been effective against any of the diseases. Even so, Donald and Joan Hardy are
convinced that the gene therapy has stopped Donald's cancer, at least for the moment.
Daniel Sterman, one of the doctors taking care of Hardy, was
always a little nervous when he came in for checkups.
Unlike the basic gene therapy researchers, sequestered in
labs far from dying patients, the 33-year-old Sterman was a hands-on physician whose focus
was on keeping his desperately ill patients alive, not just solving scientific puzzles.
Hardy was the first patient to be treated in the study, which
now involved 23 patients. Since Hardy underwent therapy in November 1995, nine of the
other test subjects had died and the disease was steadily progressing in seven of the
others, despite treatment. The remaining seven showed no progression of disease.
With so many patients dying or doing poorly, Sterman was relieved to see someone
doing well, but how long would this last?
Hardy, who had gotten mesothelioma during his 34-year career
working with asbestos, had become something of a hero or ``poster boy'' in asbestos-worker
circles. In August, he and Sterman flew to Las Vegas to address the annual meeting
of the International Association of Heat and Frost Insulators and Asbestos Workers.
Both received standing ovations from the more than 800
attending the meeting when the very hardy-looking Hardy was presented as a mesothelioma
victim who had volunteered to test an exciting new treatment for the lethal disease and
was doing well.
In his speech, Hardy urged his former colleagues not to shy
away from cancer tests, a common practice because the disease was so relentless, but to
get frequent checkups because gene treatments were now available. The implication was that
gene therapy had helped Hardy and it might help them, too.
Sterman followed Hardy to the podium and described the Penn
program. He was very careful, however, not to suggest that gene therapy had saved or even
benefited Hardy.
Sterman had reason to be cautious.
Not only was there no evidence that any of the experimental
drugs at Penn was working, there is no proof that any form of gene therapy is effective.
It's not for want of trying. The mesothelioma trial was one
of more than 200 human gene therapy trials started in this country since the first human
was given a gene drug in 1990. And gene drugs have been tried against dozens of diseases
involving hundreds of patients.
After an initial wave of enthusiasm and heartening news
reports in the early 1990s, the field has largely fallen from public view. At first
it had looked so promising and, in a way, easy to do. All doctors had to do was insert
disease-fighting genes into the cells of patients. The genes would turn the cells into
tiny biochemical factories.
And there was no problem getting the genes to the cells. They
could be inserted into viruses, which would deliver them to every cell they infected.
Depending on the type of gene used, the cells would churn out proteins to combat heart
disease, cancer, AIDS, arthritis, genetic diseases or cancer like mesothelioma.
Animal studies looked very encouraging. But once human trials
started, scientists quickly discovered that nature wasn't going to be so obliging to
follow the script they had written to usher in a new era in medicine.
Though the viruses did deliver the genes to some cells, not
enough cells were being infected to produce sufficient biochemicals to combat disease.
The scientists' hopes were being dashed by an ironic turn of
events. Unable to distinguish the therapeutic viruses from viruses that cause disease, the
patients' immune systems were destroying the gene-carrying vectors and the cells they
infected.
Hardy was waiting in one of the examining rooms in Penn's
clinical research center when Sterman arrived to examine him.
Sterman could see the moment he walked into the room that
Hardy was doing well, which was no surprise because the two had been together only a few
weeks earlier in Las Vegas.
Sunburned from playing golf and cheerful as usual, Hardy took
off his shirt and Sterman began his examination. If the cancer had grown, the mass would
block the sound of Hardy's lungs filling and expelling air and cause a dull sound when
Sterman percussed Hardy's back.
Thumping on Hardy's back, Sterman heard the drumlike sound of
a healthy lung being percussed. A small area over the lower right lung reverberated with a
dull sound, but it was no larger than it had been when Sterman examined him two years
earlier. He pressed the end of his stethoscope against Hardy's back and heard clear breath
sounds.
Relieved, he told Hardy that it looked good. But both men
knew that this was a crude assessment. Only the radiologist could determine with any
certainty if the cancer was growing.
After the exam, Hardy went down the hall for an X-ray and CAT
scan. Then he and Joan returned home to wait for the call telling them what had been
found. Usually they got word the next day, but it was Friday. They would have to wait
until Monday.
That night Sterman did not go home but drove to Absecon,
N.J., where the Institute for Human Gene Therapy was holding its annual retreat to review
what the Penn scientists were doing and hear papers from leaders in the field.
Sterman was scheduled to report on the mesothelioma trial.
Hardy was represented by a dot on a slide that Sterman carried in his briefcase.
Sterman presented the data without emotion to the 160
researchers and students gathered in a meeting room at the Seaview Resort -- 23 patients
treated, nine dead from their disease, seven doing poorly and seven doing well.
Five of the patients showed no progression of disease even
though they had been treated many months earlier and should have been getting sicker by
now.
Hardy was one of those five. The disease is so deadly that 50
percent of patients are dead within two years of diagnosis and 97 percent or more are
close to death.
Sterman was at a loss to explain why the five patients were
doing well. Some received high doses of the drug and some low doses. Some patients showed
no evidence that the vectors had successfully delivered the genes to the cells, and in
other patients genes had clearly been successfully transferred.
The only common factor among the patients was that they had
all been diagnosed in early stages of disease, but even so they should have shown disease
progression by now. One possible explanation, Sterman said, was that the treatment caused
an inflammatory reaction that stopped the cancer cells from growing, at least for the
moment.
The gene therapy treatment had proved so safe, Sterman said,
that plans were underway to do a phase II trial, in which the drug's effectiveness would
be tested. Phase I trials, such as Hardy was in, test only safety.
The phase II trial would involve many more patients -- 100 --
and four or five medical centers.
The other Penn trials discussed at the meeting were all phase
I, and those results, too, showed no serious side-effects, even though the doses of the
drugs were being steadily increased.
Penn ophthalmologist Jean Bennett reported progress in
testing different vectors in animals who had retinitis pigmentosa, a leading cause of
blindness in humans.
She said gene treatment temporarily delayed the onset of
blindness in dogs born with the disease. She said she was about to start trials with a new
vector called AAV (adeno-associated virus), which might confer more lasting protection.
Katherine High of Children's Hospital reported success using
AAV with a gene that may repair the genetic defect that causes the bleeding disease
hemophilia. In mice, it had produced Factor IX, an element that promotes blood clotting,
which hemophiliacs lack.
High is preparing to try the treatment on dogs with
hemophilia. If it works, she will move to human trials, possibly within a year or so.
Inder M. Verma of the Salk Institute, a leading gene
therapist, sounded a cautionary note at the meeting. Pointing out that more than 200 human
trials had been conducted and still no proven therapy was in sight, he said scientists
must learn much more about the basic science of cell biology and immunity before major
problems blocking success could be solved.
While Sterman was attending the retreat in Absecon, Hardy was
a few miles away on a golf course shooting in the high 80s and his wife was in their Toms
River home.
It wasn't until Monday afternoon that Sterman got the written
report from the radiology department. He immediately called Hardy.
The radiologists found no signs that the cancer was growing,
Sterman said. The CAT scan was indistinguishable from early scans.
"Well. I guess that's good news,'' Hardy said.
"It certainly is,'' Sterman said.
** POSTED OCTOBER 8, 1997
**
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