|
Upstate
man in Greenville for experimental brain treatment
Greenville News
James Porter second person in U.S. to participate in tumor study
James Porter was in his bedroom praying out loud when the words wouldn't come. "It scared me to death," he said.
A tumor was lurking in the part of his brain that had let him speak for 54 years. The doctors gave him a grim prognosis: Less than 5 percent of the 12,000 people with this type of tumor live five years, and many die in less than a year.
In hopes of defeating the odds, Porter chose to become the second person in the nation to participate in an experimental brain study in which doctors at Greenville Memorial Hospital give him nearly twice the normal amount of radiation most tumor patients receive.
Brain tumors are difficult to treat because of the risk that surgery and radiation will harm normal brain tissue. But the study hopes to find a way to lessen that risk through a high-tech computer program that allows them to target radiation precisely and give patients larger doses.
Greenville Hospital System officials say their emphasis on technology brought the brain trial study to the Upstate. Greenville Memorial has used the high-tech computer program for about 11/2 years to help zap other cancers.
Only 10 people nationally are currently participating in the study, and organizers want 200 before compiling results. Five other hospitals have been approved to offer the National Cancer Institute-funded study.
"This is becoming the state of the art in most major radiation therapy communities," said Dr. Joseph R. Simpson, associate professor of radiology at Washington University in St. Louis.
Radiation therapy to the brain can have harmful long-term side effects by damaging motor skills controlled by the affected part of the brain.
"With radiation you could cure any brain tumor just by giving it enough dose," Simpson said. "Unfortunately, the brain won't tolerate that dose. You have to be able to do something more sophisticated than just blast away."
The more precise aim allowed by the computer program means doctors can give maximum amounts of radiation with less risk to the healthy parts of the brain, said Dr. Jeannette Wilcox, a radiation oncologist at Greenville Memorial.
"Our goal is to see if that really makes a difference," she said. "The very best that could come out of this study is that we find out this improves survival. The prognosis is so dismal that if we could find a way to improve it, that would be a dramatic finding."
A scanner takes dozens of pictures in 3-millimeter slices of the brain. A computer program puts the pictures together to create a three-dimensional image that lets doctors examine the brain from all sides.
Radiation therapists then direct radiation at the tumor from several different angles. Porter will undergo at least 33 treatments followed by chemotherapy.
Doctors can't take out all of Porter's tumor. Removing 100 percent of that type of tumor proves challenging because it has fingerlike projections, and the tumor often grows back.
Porter, a retired die-cast machine operator, drives 45 minutes to Greenville five days a week for his treatments. He dons a mesh plastic mask that his wife says looks "weird and Star Wars-like."
Black marks on the mask show radiation therapists where to aim the lasers. That way they don't have to scribble on Porter's head each time he comes in.
Porter, who lives in Six Mile, near Clemson, said he has three reasons for becoming what some might call a guinea pig.
He's the legal guardian of his grandson Casey, an 8-year-old who likes to play with his grandpa, and Porter wants more time with his wife of 35 years. He also hopes the study will let doctors figure out how to tackle the most aggressive kind of tumor and improve the chances of survival.
His wife, Mary, calls the ordeal a nightmare. "Everything seems to be going good, and then your world falls apart," she said.
Despite the odds, her husband emits an optimistic glow. "Life is great," he said.
But his stammering words and choppy sentences, as well as a lengthy scar that shows beneath fine white hair, reveal that something is wrong.
"I like to talk," he said. "I know what to say. I just don't have the words."
And then there is the sparkle that leaves his eyes when he thinks of what he can't do for his grandson. "I can't play with him like before," he said. "That hurts."
During treatment No. 19, Porter lay down on an adjusting table at Greenville Memorial, his black cowboy boots pointed toward the ceiling.
A radiation therapist slid the mask over his head and attached it to the table so he couldn't move. Soothing music plays in the background to calm patients who are claustrophobic.
A radiation generator swung around Porter's head and four red lasers shot from the walls and met at a point on the upper right side of his head.
Neither Porter or his wife know exactly how the elaborate process works. They simply hope those tiny rays are killing the tumor.
"We're willing to do anything that will help him," Mary Porter said.
Greenville News
James Porter second person in U.S. to participate in tumor study
James Porter was in his bedroom praying out loud when the words wouldn't come. "It scared me to death," he said.
A tumor was lurking in the part of his brain that had let him speak for 54 years. The doctors gave him a grim prognosis: Less than 5 percent of the 12,000 people with this type of tumor live five years, and many die in less than a year.
In hopes of defeating the odds, Porter chose to become the second person in the nation to participate in an experimental brain study in which doctors at Greenville Memorial Hospital give him nearly twice the normal amount of radiation most tumor patients receive.
Brain tumors are difficult to treat because of the risk that surgery and radiation will harm normal brain tissue. But the study hopes to find a way to lessen that risk through a high-tech computer program that allows them to target radiation precisely and give patients larger doses.
Greenville Hospital System officials say their emphasis on technology brought the brain trial study to the Upstate. Greenville Memorial has used the high-tech computer program for about 11/2 years to help zap other cancers.
Only 10 people nationally are currently participating in the study, and organizers want 200 before compiling results. Five other hospitals have been approved to offer the National Cancer Institute-funded study.
"This is becoming the state of the art in most major radiation therapy communities," said Dr. Joseph R. Simpson, associate professor of radiology at Washington University in St. Louis.
Radiation therapy to the brain can have harmful long-term side effects by damaging motor skills controlled by the affected part of the brain.
"With radiation you could cure any brain tumor just by giving it enough dose," Simpson said. "Unfortunately, the brain won't tolerate that dose. You have to be able to do something more sophisticated than just blast away."
The more precise aim allowed by the computer program means doctors can give maximum amounts of radiation with less risk to the healthy parts of the brain, said Dr. Jeannette Wilcox, a radiation oncologist at Greenville Memorial.
"Our goal is to see if that really makes a difference," she said. "The very best that could come out of this study is that we find out this improves survival. The prognosis is so dismal that if we could find a way to improve it, that would be a dramatic finding."
A scanner takes dozens of pictures in 3-millimeter slices of the brain. A computer program puts the pictures together to create a three-dimensional image that lets doctors examine the brain from all sides.
Radiation therapists then direct radiation at the tumor from several different angles. Porter will undergo at least 33 treatments followed by chemotherapy.
Doctors can't take out all of Porter's tumor. Removing 100 percent of that type of tumor proves challenging because it has fingerlike projections, and the tumor often grows back.
Porter, a retired die-cast machine operator, drives 45 minutes to Greenville five days a week for his treatments. He dons a mesh plastic mask that his wife says looks "weird and Star Wars-like."
Black marks on the mask show radiation therapists where to aim the lasers. That way they don't have to scribble on Porter's head each time he comes in.
Porter, who lives in Six Mile, near Clemson, said he has three reasons for becoming what some might call a guinea pig.
He's the legal guardian of his grandson Casey, an 8-year-old who likes to play with his grandpa, and Porter wants more time with his wife of 35 years. He also hopes the study will let doctors figure out how to tackle the most aggressive kind of tumor and improve the chances of survival.
His wife, Mary, calls the ordeal a nightmare. "Everything seems to be going good, and then your world falls apart," she said.
Despite the odds, her husband emits an optimistic glow. "Life is great," he said.
But his stammering words and choppy sentences, as well as a lengthy scar that shows beneath fine white hair, reveal that something is wrong.
"I like to talk," he said. "I know what to say. I just don't have the words."
And then there is the sparkle that leaves his eyes when he thinks of what he can't do for his grandson. "I can't play with him like before," he said. "That hurts."
During treatment No. 19, Porter lay down on an adjusting table at Greenville Memorial, his black cowboy boots pointed toward the ceiling.
A radiation therapist slid the mask over his head and attached it to the table so he couldn't move. Soothing music plays in the background to calm patients who are claustrophobic.
A radiation generator swung around Porter's head and four red lasers shot from the walls and met at a point on the upper right side of his head.
Neither Porter or his wife know exactly how the elaborate process works. They simply hope those tiny rays are killing the tumor.
"We're willing to do anything that will help him," Mary Porter said.