The polio vaccine trial

I lived in Pittsburgh, PA in the 1950s. I remember a summer when we were not allowed to leave the yard. I remember standing in line for the first mass inoculation with the Salk the polio vaccine. My parents knew my brother, sister, and I might get polio from it. They took that risk.

…our most important resource…

Today, polio is a nearly dead disease in this country–and in much of the world. It is dead because people were willing to spend the money to find a solution to it–and others were willing to put their lives–and their children’s lives–on the line to prove that solution worked.

One man’s trial

That drive started because one man decided to do something about it. He wasn’t a scientist. But he knew first-hand about polio because he’d survived it and it’s aftermath. He could not stand without braces. He spent most of his remaining life confined to a wheel chair.

They took that risk.

He started a little charity he called The March of Dimes because all he wanted was one dime from every American for polio treatments and research. He did a lot of other things in his life. He guided the United States through the worst years of the Great Depression and World War II.

A personal trial

Laying the groundwork for the end of polio is something we forget about Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He died years before Jonas Salk developed his vaccine. He died years before I stood in a line waiting to be injected with an experimental fluid designed to protect me from the disease.

He wasn’t a scientist…

What I remember most vividly was how big the needle looked–and how scared I was of it. I didn’t know what polio was. I had never known anyone who had it. But I knew my parents had kept us all in the yard for weeks one summer because some people in town had caught it.

The first time my universe changed

Years later, I met a man who had  polio in his youth in the days before the vaccine. He walked with the aid of a cane and a crutch. His one good leg dragged the other up the stairs and down the hall to his classroom every day.

I didn’t know what polio was…

The universe changed for me and many others because of a single trial of a single drug in a time I can barely remember. That trial meant I would never get polio–and that no friend of mine would ever get it. It’s why I never hesitate when someone asks me to get involved with a scientific trial–even when it puts my life or health at some kind of risk.

Jane’s personal trial

Jane shared that attitude for reasons of her own. She knew she was in serious trouble when she heard the diagnosis. She quickly learned she had cancer so advanced she was not likely to live long. There were no trials she qualified for.

That trial meant I would never get polio…

So she told her doctors to learn everything they could from her in every way that they could. She made sure I understood precisely what she meant by that. She wanted to beat NET cancer–but if she couldn’t do that and live, she wanted to make sure her death would help others with the disease–and help researchers find a way to beat NET cancer once and for all.

Our most valuable resources

There are lots of things we need to beat NET cancer: We need more doctors, researchers and lab techs; we need more labs doing both basic research and the translational research that turns that basic research into new drugs and new treatments; we need greater awareness among both doctors and the general public; and we need the cold hard cash that pays for those things.

She wanted to beat NET cancer…

But we need more than scientists and donors. We need patients and caregivers who are active participants in both treatment and awareness building; we need people willing to tell their stories beyond patient forums and support groups; we need blood and tissue samples; and we need people willing to take the same risks my parents took with the lives of their children–and their own.

The power of one trial

My wife killed her NET cancer the only way anyone with an advanced form of the disease ever has: she died and took it with her. But the way she died created new knowledge that has extended and improved the lives of other NET cancer patients. Some of you reading this are the unknowing beneficiaries of that knowledge.

…we need more than scientists and donors.

If we are going to kill NET cancer, none of us can sit on the sidelines, whether we are patients or caregivers. Awareness won’t happen by itself. Cures won’t happen without people willing to take part in trials. In the fight against NET cancer, our most important resource–fair or not–is each other.