Among the more colorful writers, orators and pundits in the later part of the 20th Century and the early part of the 21st was Christopher Hitchens. Born in England in 1949, he moved to the United States where he became famous for his deeply held political views. An outspoken critic of injustice, he called it as he saw it. While his political leanings were mostly liberal, he was willing to take on the establishment on both sides of the political isle when he saw injustice and political hypocrisy.
Christopher Hitchens died at age 62 from cancer of the esophagus. Although unapologetic for his use of alcoholic beverages and tobacco products, his lifestyle may have contributed to his diagnosis. What saddens me most is the possibility that he could have done better. And didn’t.
Like so many celebrities when they are diagnosed with cancer, Hitchens entered a realm that I call, “social medicine.” Not to be confused with socialized medicine and related political issues, social medicine is the process whereby the rich and famous receive care from the “right” doctors. These luminaries, through their channels and connections, are hand carried to the most famous physicians in the country. Their prominent and widely published ivory tower investigators then provide the best care money can buy. Yet, more often than not it is exactly the same therapy that they would have received from their home-town oncologists, who read the same journals, attend the same meetings and adhere to the same NCCN guidelines as the “best and the brightest” academics. We then conveniently chalk these patient’s failures up to the biology of the disease and the patient’s drug resistance rather than examining the more discomforting reality that protocol therapy doesn’t work for famous patients any better than it does is for anyone else.
But what if these patients just got the wrong treatment? What if the drugs these doctors chose were the very best for many, but not right for them? What if the right treatment was just right around the corner, but these prominent academics couldn’t see it? What if these patients had submitted a tumor sample for an EVA-PCD® assay and knew which drug or combinations would kill their cancer cells?
It isn’t that Christopher Hitchens or Steven Jobs are more important than any other patient. Their collective suffering and the losses to their families are no greater than any other cancer patient who confronts this illness. It’s just that they are famous and we know about it from the beginning to the end. We watch as these patients suffer through the toxicities and side effects of randomly administered therapies. And, in the case of Hitchens we are provided a blow-by-blow description in his writings. Unlike other patients who seek their care outside of the limelight, these celebrities are above the fray, protected by their handlers, PR agents and managers – they are unapproachable. With Jobs or Hitchens I would have relished the opportunity to offer any assistance possible, and through contacts at Apple I actually tried, but to no avail.
These individuals suffer and die in the public eye. Like salt in a wound, investigators like my colleagues and myself who are engaged in the pursuit of better, more intelligently delivered therapies, suffer with them. No, they are not more important, but it just seems so when you watch it every day on television, online, or in the print media, you clearly see an “in your face” example of a failing paradigm of cancer therapeutics.