Tag: healthcare

creativity

The latest cancer treatment is in your medicine cabinet right now

Christa Avampato
Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash

Open up your medicine cabinet and have a look around. You may have the latest cancer treatment front and center—aspirin. Yep. Good ole regular aspirin that costs ~$0.05 per tablet.

The discovery of aspirin’s nature roots dates back to ancient civilizations. Sumerians, Egyptians, and Greeks used willow bark as a pain reliever. The 18th- and 19th-century ushered in a host of developments that led to modern day aspirin. In 1763, English clergyman Edward Stone observed willow bark reduced fevers. In 1828, German chemist Joseph Buchner isolated salicin as the active chemical in willow bark. In 1853, French chemist Charles Gerhardt synthesized salicylic acid, a derivative of salicin. In 1897, German chemist Felix Hoffmann, working for the Bayer company, synthesized acetylsalicylic acid (ASA), a more stable and less irritating form of salicylic acid. He named the new compound “aspirin,” a combination of the words “acetyl” and “spiraea,” a plant related to willow. Bayer patented aspirin on March 6, 1899, and began marketing it as a pain reliever and fever reducer. 

Fast forward 126 years, almost exactly to the day. Scientists have now uncovered how aspirin works to stop some cancers such as breast, bowel, and prostate from spreading (known as metastasis.) Metastasis, the spread of cancer cells from primary tumors to distant organs, is the cause of 90% of cancer deaths globally.

When cancer first spreads, there’s a window of opportunity for treatment when cancer cells are particularly vulnerable. By stimulating the immune system during this window of time, aspirin could prevent spread and recurrence in patients with early cancer. The study, published on March 5, 2025 in the journal, Nature, will support ongoing clinical trials in humans, to work out who is most likely to benefit based on the many different aspects of tumors (known as biomarkers.) It’s also important to note that aspirin is known to increase bleeding risk and can cause extreme stomach upset and toxicity so this treatment must only be done under the recommendation and supervision of a medical team.

Professor Rahul Roychoudhuri in the Department of Pathology at the University of Cambridge, who led the work, said, “Despite advances in cancer treatment, many patients with early stage cancers receive treatments, such as surgical removal of the tumor, which have the potential to be curative, but later relapse due to the eventual growth of micro metastases–cancer cells that have seeded other parts of the body but remain in a latent state.

“Most immunotherapies are developed to treat patients with established metastatic cancer, but when cancer first spreads there’s a unique therapeutic window of opportunity when cancer cells are particularly vulnerable to immune attack. We hope that therapies that target this window of vulnerability will have tremendous scope in preventing recurrence in patients with early cancer at risk of recurrence.”

Aspirin is less expensive than antibody-based therapies, so more accessible globally. It also has fewer side effects than many cancer treatments and could therefore be better tolerated by patients to protect and preserve quality of life without compromising other aspects of a person’s health.

I have a long day of medical appointments with my oncology team at NYU’s Perlmutter Cancer Center next week on March 25th. (These are my regular check-ups and include the administration of some of my medications that I have to have done by my medical team.) I’ll absolutely discuss with them the potential of aspirin to help keep me cancer-free, and keep you updated on their response. I love to participate in research studies – not only does it help me, but it also helps me pay forward all of the benefits I’ve received from others who participated in research that make my treatments possible. Curing cancer takes a village, and maybe someday, a daily dose of aspirin.

creativity

NIH funding freeze endangers American lives and the US economy

Christa Avampato
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash. Chanelle Case Borden, Ph.D., a postdoctoral fellow in the National Cancer Institute’s Experimental Immunology Branch, pipetting DNA samples into a tube for polymerase chain reaction, or PCR, a laboratory technique used to make multiple copies of a segment of DNA.

Earlier this week, I wrote in my Togetherhood newsletter about the history and scientific research of Gila monster venom that led to Novo Nordicks’s medications Ozempic and Wegovy. This research began at the National Institutes of Health and led to some of the most profitable and promising drugs. These types of advances are now in danger because the Trump administration has frozen much of the $47 billion the US spends annually on biomedical research like this through 60,000 NIH grants.

The US houses the world’s leading medical labs that research cancer, dementia and Alzheimer’s, heart disease, child health, and diabetes to name just a few. NIH grants provide significant funding to these labs. To make sure the grants are used efficiently and ethically, there’s an extensive review process of grant applications. When the Trump administration froze the funding, they stopped all these review processes. These frozen funds also caused many research labs and universities that house them to halt hiring and PhD and post-doc admissions. Even if they released the funding today, it would take weeks or months to restart all these processes.

Additionally, freezing these funds is negatively impacting the economy and US competitiveness on the world stage. Every $1 of NIH spending generates more than $2 dollars in US economic activity. Healthcare is the biggest industry in the US. Without the foundation of NIH-funded research, the industry is in crisis. The US produces more influential health science research than the next 10 leading countries, combined. Every day that goes by, lives and livelihoods of Americans are in jeopardy. Please call your reps today and tell them to fight to restore NIH funding. Your life and the lives of those you love depend on it.

creativity

Taking the lighted path one step at a time

Christa Avampato
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

I want to tell you a story about darkness and light. When I was diagnosed with cancer, and when almost died from cancer treatment (twice), it was often difficult to see beyond the darkness. I was standing in the crucible. At one point a lethal, unknown allergy to a chemo drug shattered my lungs and I was suffocating. We were deep in the pandemic in New York City before vaccines. The attending physician wanted to intubate me in the ICU, surrounded by COVID patients. At that time, being intubated was almost certainly a death sentence.

The ICU nurse insisted we try two more types of bedside respirators. “You have 10 minutes,” yelled the attending physician. “If her oxygen number doesn’t go up, I’m taking her to the ICU.” I had 10 minutes to save my life.

The nurse smiled at me. She tried the first machine. We waited. It didn’t work.

The nurse’s smile shrank. We tried the second machine. We waited. I looked at the ceiling. I called my ancestors. They were there. Not to intervene, only to catch me if it was my time to crossover. In that moment, all I wanted was my dog and the people I love. Love was all that mattered. Love was the secret to living, and it took possible death to teach me that.

I looked at the attending’s face. Her eyes grew wider. Her mouth fell open. I looked at the nurse; her smile had returned.

“Holy sh*t,” said the attending. 

My numbers were climbing. The attending left the room.

“I’ll be back to check on you throughout the night and we’ll be monitoring you from the desk just outside the door,” the nurse said as she placed the call button in my hand. “If you need anything, press this button.” 

I nodded. The nurse left the room. My ancestors smiled and walked back over a hill. 

“Not today, Death,” I thought. “Not today.”

When we’re deep in the darkness, we can only see our way forward if we raise our light and take one step at a time. Maybe that’s where you are right now. Things look dark. You can’t find a lamp. It turns out the light isn’t out there; it’s in you and the people around you. We are lights to each other. We can’t see the whole path, and that’s okay. Step by step, we’ll get there, together.

In the days ahead, I want you to hang on to that image of raising our light and being on the path together the way I hang on to what happened to me in 2020 in that hospital room when I was 10 minutes from death. Call your ancestors, friends, therapist, neighbors, religious leaders, and anyone in your community who is a light. We have a lot of challenges ahead to work on together and meeting them is going to take all of us being at our best. Take care of yourself now so we can take are of each other tomorrow. You got this, and I’ve got you. More tomorrow…

creativity

What I’ve learned in the 4 years since my bilateral mastectomy after breast cancer

Christa Avampato
Me today — 4 years post-surgery — outside of Perlmutter Cancer Center in New York City

Sunday marked 4 years since the bilateral mastectomy that removed cancer from my body and saved my life. I dropped off my absentee ballot for the election on October 26th, 2020 during early voting and in the depths of the pandemic before vaccines. The next day I went to NYU Langone Medical Center. The surgery was long and difficult. The recovery was painful. The many months of treatment and two additional surgeries, life-threatening setbacks, and healing were even worse. I didn’t know about any of that when I arrived at the hospital that day. All I knew then was I wanted to live, and I might not. My only goal was to wake up from that surgery and see the sunrise. And I did. Step 1, done.

After I woke up from anesthesia, I watched Harry Potter on my iPad, trying to invoke some kind of magic of my own. My angel nurse, Esther, ran all over the hospital to find me a sandwich since meal service had ended. To this day, that ordinary turkey sandwich was the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten. Then she showed me how to care for the 4 drains coming out of my body, a necessary evil after an extensive surgery.

When Dr. Schnabel, my surgeon, came to visit me, I thanked her for saving my life. Neither of us could see each other’s smiles because we were both double-masked. I remember her eyes looking deep into mine. “I’m just part of the team. Everyone in this hospital has one goal — to get you up and over the mountain. It won’t always feel like this. Someday you’re going to be very grateful you chose to take the hard road today.”

My friend, Marita, picked me up at the hospital and gave me the gentlest of hugs. I had a giant bag of meds. “How do you feel?” she asked me once I was settled into her car. I said, “I don’t know.”

Marita drove me home and handed me off to my sister, who dropped her whole life in Florida to take care of me (and my dog). My next goal was to be able to walk around my neighborhood by Halloween with my dog dressed as a pumpkin and my sister to see all the decorations and find some joy in my favorite season. Step 2, done.

My next goals — stay alive, restore my health, and thrive. Steps 3, 4, and 5, done, done, and a daily process.

I went for my annual check-up with my surgeon this morning. All clear! It happened to fall on the anniversary of that conversation we had about the choice to take the hard road. As I walked to the subway to head home in the sunshine, I thought about how right she was — she’s always right. I don’t feel the way I felt 4 years ago. Today, I’m hopeful and thankful for all of it, even cancer. We got up and over that mountain. There are so many people who made this trek possible. I was never alone in it. There were angels, guides, and teachers everywhere. There still are. The journey continues, and I’m very grateful for that.

Below: images from four years ago pre- and post-surgery.

creativity

New data shows Europe has more cancer incidence and mortality than the U.S.

Christa Avampato
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash. “KRAS Protein Structure. RAS genes are mutated in approximately one-third of all human cancers.”

Did you know cancer incidence and cancer mortality rates are higher in Europe than the U.S.? I was shocked to learn this since I often hear the exact opposite. The World Health Organization’s International Agency for Research on Cancer compiled a study of 2022 data and the disparities cross the world are stark. Considering men and women, and all types of cancer, Europe had 4,471,422 cases in 2022 (22.4% of global cancer cases) and the U.S. had 1,832,550 cases (9.8%). When looking at mortality from cancer, the picture is even more disparate: Europe 1,972,982 (20.4%) and the U.S. 600,970 (6.2%). This ranking holds even when standardized for age. 

As a cancer survivor and advocate, I spend a lot of time poring through statistics. Lately I’ve been reading a lot of about cancer disparity between countries. I was prompted to investigate this after a cancer survivor in Canada told me one of the medications I took to prevent recurrence (Verzenio) is only available in Canada to those who have much more advanced cases than I had. 

Why are there global disparities between Europe and the U.S.? 3 main reasons: 

1.) U.S. Medicare covers cancer screening and treatments more generously
Once Americans hit age 65, they receive Medicare benefits. Since cancer afflicts more people over 65, they have access to benefits like cancer screening and treatments such as immunotherapy and clinical trials through Medicare. These Medicare benefits in the U.S. are more generous than those in Europe. This means cancer is caught earlier and there are many more options for treatments in the U.S. Both of these factors help detect and treat cancer more effectively.

Is Medicare perfect? No. It can and must be improved. In the case of cancer, it’s actually doing well when compared to care and coverage in Europe.

Smoking rates
We’ve heard it for decades now: smoking increases the risk of many types of cancer. In Europe, 26% of the population aged 15 and over smokes daily. In the U.S., 11.5% smoke either daily or some days. 

The U.S. market and government structure prompts cancer research and treatment development
Cancer research and treatment development requires significant financial investment because only 13.8% of medications make it through the first phase of clinical trials. To get the scale they need to conduct and fund cancer research, European countries need to collaborate. 

However, each country maintains its own regulatory policies, procedures, and data collection and analysis processes for cancer treatment. To collaborate they need to agree on these policies, procedures, and processes, and they must agree to share data, which has proven difficult. This causes delays and the scrapping of research projects. 

The U.S. regulatory system grinds slowly as well. Still, it needs only to contend with itself, not with another country’s issues. 

A global vision for cancer detection and treatment
As a cancer survivor, it’s been challenging and emotional for me to consider all of this global data. I’m privileged that I live in New York City, I had insurance through the Affordable Care Act when I went through my cancer diagnosis and active treatment, and have access to the best cancer care in the world. Had I lived anywhere else, my cancer likely would have gone undetected until a later stage. I may not have had access to the many treatments I’ve had (and will continue to have for another 7 years). 

There is a lot of hope and promise in the Biden Cancer Moonshot, started by Dr. Jill Biden and President Joe Biden. While the initial focus is domestic, there are already global efforts underway to expand access to screening and treatments to every corner of the world. 

We may never be able to completely prevent cancer from happening. We can vastly diminish its power, transforming it from the “Big C” into something that happens that we can manage and cure. That will take a global effort, and I know I want to be a part of that journey. 

creativity

The inspiring resilience of water bears

Christa Avampato
Tardigrades in space (and everywhere on Earth!) https://youtu.be/TV7qAsp6x3w

Water bears look like works of science fiction. The microscopic, 8-legged 1,300 species of water bears (tardigrades) are alive and well. Their remarkable abilities to survive and thrive in harsh conditions make them seem even more improbable. They’re one of the most resilient lifeforms that’s ever lived.

When I had 6 weeks of daily radiation to treat cancer, I thought a lot about the perseverance of water bears. The technicians would position me on the table, then close the heavy door behind them as they left the room to protect themselves from the radiation. Click. Through a small window, they’d watched me, alone, unmoving, exposed on a table with no protection from the radiation blasting my body. I imagined myself as a tardigrade, opening to the light and radiation, absorbing it to kill any microscopic cancer cells floating around my body. I would think of Rumi’s quote, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”

By the end of week six, I had a painful burn the size of a baseball in the middle of my chest. “What would a tardigrade do with a burn like this?”, I wondered. They’d tend to what needed tending. So, that’s what I did. I changed dressings and applied the medication twice a day. I meditated on my wound, imagining it closing and healing. It was painful and frightening to have a wound like that, but like so much along my cancer journey, it passed. To my amazement and my doctors’, it healed in 2 weeks. Today it’s only a few freckles and the tattoo that marks the focus of the radiation beam, the place where the light entered me and healed me.

My healing is nothing compared to tardigrades. I bow in deep humility to them. Devastating drought? A sprinkle of water revives them from completely dried out to fully functioning. Deep freeze of outer space? They thaw and don’t know they’ve been away from Earth. Crushing pressure? They flatten and bounce back. Blast of radiation 1,400 times stronger than what would kill humans? They repair their shattered DNA and go about their day.

Tardigrades instill awe, wonder, and confusion in scientists. How do they survive everywhere under such extremes? Why have they evolved to do this?

They’re ubiquitous, found from the top of the Himalayas to Antarctic depths, at temperatures from -328°F (-200°C) to 304°F (151°C). We know they repair damaged DNA rapidly and completely. It’s not that they aren’t impacted by their environment. They take the destruction around them, then they pick up the pieces, build back, and carry on.

As we consider how to create a world resilient to climate change impacts, again I’m thinking of tardigrades. How can we withstand hardship, quickly and completely fixing what breaks? How can we endure? Nature-based solutions to our most dire challenges are found all around us if only we look, listen, and seek to understand. In a world where we constantly navigate change and manage difficulty, I want to be a tardigrade — repairing myself, my ecosystem, and all beings with whom I share it.

creativity

How I endured 2 years taking Verzenio

Christa Avampato
My last dose of Verzenio. Photo by Christa Avampato.

A little over two years ago, I wrote an article about my decision to take Verzenio to prevent breast cancer recurrence. On April 14th, I took my last dose of the medication and now I feel like a new person. Taking Verzenio at the maximum dose for two years was one of the most challenging parts of cancer treatment. Still, I’m glad I took it as part of doing everything I possibly can to stay healthy. I’m beyond grateful that the medication was delivered to my door every month free of charge to me because my health insurance paid the entire cost – $14,000 per month for a grand total of $336,000.

The indignities of cancer treatment are many, and I’ve experienced most of them. Verzenio certainly caused me a lot of anguish. Every day I had at least a low-grade stomach ache, and often much worse. I carried medication to deal with these issues everywhere I went, and often had to use it. Alcohol and grapefruit were off limits. I worried about everything I ate because anything could make me sick at any time. I had to constantly manage fatigue that sleep couldn’t fix, insomnia, depression, hair thinning, dry and sensitive skin, weight gain and aching joints, decreasing bone density, and the possibilities of developing liver and lung issues, being immunocompromised, and having anemia. Mercifully, my blood work was always normal when it was checked by my oncologist every three months – partly from my constant management of my diet and partly because I was very lucky.

Despite all that, that were bright spots, too, when I would discover something that helped, at least for some amount of time. Probiotics lessened the stomach issues, and I stopped drinking coffee, paired everything with carbs, upped my protein intake, and limited spicy, acidic, adventurous food. Audiobooks, an eye mask, and meditating helped me sleep, or at least rest. When I couldn’t sleep, I would often imagine myself traveling over coral reefs in the company of my dog, Phin, with a whale tour guide whom my imagination named Blue. Creativity was a great help on sleepless nights.

Shampoo and conditioner bars from Kitsch slowed the hair thinning. The dryness of my skin was eased by products from Good Molecules, Cetaphil, and HyaloGyn. Daily exercise and fish oil supplements eased my aching joints. The Zometa infusions I get every six months are helping me regrow the bone density I’ve lost. I kept anemia at bay with daily protein shakes. I bought a digital scale to monitor my weight every day, and experimented with recipes that were high nutrition, low-calorie, economical, and not too complicated to make.

Managing depression required a daily recalibration. My dog, Phineas, was my biggest support in that effort. Losing him in January of this year was a devastating loss and the grief at times felt unbearable. Verzenio made his passing even worse. To keep my head up, I did something every day that brought me joy – I spent time with friends, listened to music, watched movies, read books, visited museums, and did things I loved to do – writing, learning from and about nature, running, taking long walks, making art, and studying for my master’s program in sustainability. Joy was one of my saviors during active treatment and it helped with Verzenio, too. Though sometimes I had no choice but to just let myself feel sad, frustrated, and depressed. I cried a lot. Knowing the depression was driven by the medication helped. Knowing this was my now and not my forever encouraged me to keep going, to keep moving.

If all this sounds exhausting, I can assure you it was. Now that I’ve been off the medication for nearly a month, I can see how much effort it took to be on it. In the moment, I tried my best not to acknowledge that. I’ve spent most of the past four years since my diagnosis with my head down, focused on getting to this finish line.

Now that I feel better and lighter, I’m lifting my gaze. Right now, the field of my future is wide open. That’s equal parts exciting, and scary. I don’t know what lies ahead. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff. And that’s okay because even on the cliff, I’m dancing, fully alive. I’m just glad to be here, and to be healthy. Verzenio was a part of making that possible.

So, if I had it to do over again, would I take Verzenio? Absolutely, unequivocally, yes. This is a life worth fighting for.

creativity

The benefits of Zometa for early-stage breast cancer survivors

Christa Avampato
Me getting my recent Zometa infusion at Perlmutter Cancer Center

This is me at Perlmutter Cancer Center this week getting an infusion of Zometa, my own version of the Harry Potter Skele-Gro potion. The medications I take to prevent cancer recurrence have the unfortunate side-effect of decreasing my bone density. Zometa has the dual benefit of regrowing bone and reducing the risk of breast cancer recurrence. Isn’t that cool? The hope is I’ll only need 4 infusions (once every 6 months) so I’m halfway there! I also got all my annual bloodwork done and it’s perfect.

I get this infusion once every 6 months in the same chemo ward I went to during those dark days of active treatment in the midst of the pandemic before vaccines. I remember how sick and scared I was, how my dreams were on hold, and maybe out of reach. I’d flip through pictures of University of Cambridge and University of Oxford having put my graduate school applications to study environmental sustainability on hold, hoping I’d live to pursue those dreams.

Now I’m 3 months from finishing my degree at Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership. The dream came true. It was a dream delayed but not a dream denied, thanks to the incredible care I received and the many people who made it possible for me to heal. Science and medicine are incredible. Better living through chemistry.

Managing through ongoing care can be exhausting. I’m also extraordinarily lucky to have access to the best medical care in the world. There are so many who don’t. And if this is what it takes to maintain my health and live the life I imagine, that’s fine with me. There is so much I’m learning on the journey, and I’m grateful to be able to use it to help others.

creativity

The Rising—Scenes from the Roe vs. Wade Protest in NYC

Christa Avampato
My friend, Ashley, in NYC. Photo by Christa Avampato.

Yesterday we witnessed a horrific historic moment in the U.S. A majority of the SCOTUS decided guns and zygotes have more rights than women.

We lose 68,000 women every year to abortions that have been forced underground for those who have no access to safe clinics and hospitals.

My friend, Ashley, dressed as a handmaid for the protests at Washington Square Park and Union Square here in New York City. People were amused. They shouldn’t be. This is not a joke. This is not a drill.

Thousands of people flooded New York City’s streets to demand justice for women. My friend Kelly and I were both proud and devastated to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with our neighbors.

We are now at the point of revolution. We must be. This attack on women cannot stand. Not now. Not ever. We will be as relentless as those who mean to send us back into the shadows.

This is not the end. This is The Rising.

Scenes from the New York City protests on June 24, 2022. All photos taken by Christa Avampato.

creativity

A Year of Yes: A near-death experience this week changed my life

Christa Avampato

I’m posting these embarrassing selfies for your benefit:

Sunday afternoon
Monday night

I got off a plane from vacation in Vancouver. It was a fantastic trip—more on that later. This post is about you. Well, it’s about you via a story about me. I’ll be brief. My eye started to hurt on the plane. Nothing big; just noticeable. I got home, picked up my dog from boarding, and decided to take a nap. I woke up with my eye crusted shut. My doctor, via video call, thought it was a case of pink eye and prescribed antibiotics. 24 hours later, the swelling, redness, and oozing got much worse, and then spread to my second eye. I got on a video call with my doctor again, and she was alarmed to see how much my condition had deteriorated. She sent me to the emergency room.

I didn’t have pink eye. I had a condition known as periorbital cellulitis. It’s an extremely dangerous infection if left untreated, and can be lethal by causing sepsis or meningitis. It’s usually caused by an insect bite or another similar kind of trauma. I’m immensely lucky that I have access to great, timely medical care. Again, my gut instinct to get help saved me, and I’m incredibly grateful for that.

Now the bit about you:

1.) If you’re sick, please, please, please get medical help quickly. Don’t worry that you’re being a hypochondriac. If you think something is wrong, it’s much better to get it checked.

2.) Do what you love. Please. What you’re passionate about, what lights you up, what makes you curious to learn more and more. Create beautiful art. Write. See your friends. Help people. Share what you have. Fall in love. Adopt a dog. Live. If you’re in a job or a relationship you don’t love, go. Quickly. Don’t waste your time. You never know how much of it you have. Your life can turn on a dime, from something as insignificant as an insect bite. So wear bug repellent and sunscreen because you might as well give yourself your best shot at your best life.