At the end of my last post, I posed the question of what to do about my Revlimid dose, which is providing stable disease at 10 mg per day.
Do I accept that as the end point and maybe even step it back a bit if stable disease can be maintained at a lower dose? (After all, we really don't know what Revlimid is doing to my body, and what its long-term effects will be.)
Or do I increase the dose in the hope that the more drug I take, the more effective it will be? (After all, we are dealing with CLL here, and knocking it back is worth the risk, which may turn out to be small given Revlimid's history in CLL so far.)
Run this question by one of the leading experts on CLL and Revlimid and the answer is: Bump it up.
And so, for almost two weeks now, I've been on 15 mg of the stuff.
I have a friend who is in a clinical trial at New York's Roswell Park Cancer Institute, where Dr. Asher Chanan-Khan is the principal investigator, and where the clinical nurses also know more than a thing or two about Revlimid and CLL. Chanan-Khan and his staff have been doing Revlimid (aka lenalidomide) trials for several years and probably know more about its effects on CLLers than anyone else. This fellow patient kindly agreed to run my case by the powers that be.
The patient is in a trial for untreated patients, in which participants are stepped up to 25 mg at two week intervals, starting with 5 mg. Optimally, patients will then stay on 25 mg for six months, which is the level at which the best results have been seen. After that, patients will go into a lower dose Revlimid maintenance program. One patient has been in treatment for 52 months.
Some patients can't tolerate the drug, of course, and have to drop out. Others get good results at lower doses than 25 mg, so they are never bumped up all the way. There's a certain finessing that goes along with determining Revlimid dosages. Ironically, the higher the dose, the easier the drug seems to be on most patients. Nurses report more problems in the beginning, with smaller doses, as the body gets used to the drug. My friend, who is now at 25 mg, reports that his experience bears this out.
Much to my surprise given my rocky Revlimid history of tumor flare and rash, my experience is bearing it out also. The only ripple is that I have experienced more tumor flare -- the usual, non-dramatic kind, nothing like I had in the beginning. This is understandable given the increase in dosage. Tumor flare is a good sign, according to Dr. Chanan-Khan, who says it means the drug is working.
Chanan-Khan also thinks the Revlimid is doing most of the work in the protocol I'm on, which also involves periodic infusions of the anti-CD20 monoclonal antibody Arzerra (ofatumumab).
I discussed all this with my oncologist, and she agreed that bumping up the dose at two week intervals was worth a try so long as I can tolerate the drug. We'll continue with the Arzerra for the time being. So the original OL protocol has now been modified to reflect higher doses of Revlimid. One of the advantages of following a clinical trial from afar is that you can modify it if necessary since you aren't locked into a search for empirical data. Your primary concern is clinical results.
My friend also has 11q-deleted CLL and has noticed progress with his lymph nodes as time has gone on and dosages have increased. At 5 mg and 10 mg some of his nodes became soft and squishy and at 25 mg he notices node masses separating. Since nodes are my biggest challenge, I'm hoping for tangible progress as time goes on. I had some beginning in May, when a big node mass under my right armpit separated, but things appear to have found a plateau since then.
It's important to remember that Revlimid is an immunomodulator, not a traditional chemo drug, so progress will be slower and less complete -- but I hope significant enough in the course of time to keep the disease down without taking on the risks associated with fludarabine, cyclophosphamide, and the like.
It was six months ago to this day that I first downed a Revlimid capsule. Cheers! Salud! L'chayim!
I was embarking on the pill half of my latest CLL treatment protocol: Arzerra (aka ofatumumab), the anti-CD20 monoclonal antibody; and Revlimid (aka lenalidomide), an immunomodulator. I call it the OL protocol.
As readers of this blog know, I had my challenges with the Revlimid: tumor flare, rash, fatigue. It's not a fun drug. My body got used to it, but I'm not sure I have.
I'm just about to end a week-long, doctor-approved Revlimid treatment holiday. The OL protocol has me slogging through 10 mg of the stuff every day. In myeloma protocols, and in at least one CLL clinical trial that I know of, patients get three weeks on and one week off. During this week off I have slowly seen the drug-induced fatigue and dullness leave my body. I have more energy again and I'm mentally sharper. Revlimid subtly but surely detracts from certain aspects of quality of life. So the results had better be worth it.
Are they?
The results so far have been mixed, a combination of disappointment and relief, and might technically be considered to be "Stable disease Plus."
The disappointment has been in the lymph nodes, where most of my 11q-deleted disease resides. Back in May I thought I was finally having some luck in that department. But rather than presaging progress to come, it turns out May's results were an anomaly. Further treatment has not yielded any more progress. The nodes are pretty much where they were when I began.
Which is to say they appear to be (with the naked eye and roving hands, as opposed to an abdominal CT scan) stable. While I was hoping for more, I have learned after seven years of fighting this thing to be content with treading water. It beats drowning.
Nodes, like facts, are stubborn things, at least in my case. The only thing that will really blast them -- and I'm not at all confident that it would get rid of them completely -- is heavy-duty chemo. Steroids provide a nice reduction, but it is fleeting. The addition of cyclophosphamide provides a longer reduction, but not that long. FCR would probably do better, as would R-CHOP or the like. But the results would last how long? It's best not to take that sort of step unless I really have no other choice, and unless I'm prepared to roll the dice on a transplant afterward. But it is also best not to let the nodes get any worse, which means that keeping them stable, while not optimal, is important.
An area where the protocol has worked has been in the peripheral blood. My absolute lymphocyte count has been "normal" for months now, dropping from 11.8 on Feb. 23, the day before the protocol began with my first Arzerra infusion, to 3.2 as of last week. In clinical terms this means absolutely nothing. The blood is not where the disease is congregating.
I have also been spared the neutropenia and thrombocytopenia that can accompany the protocol. My platelets, which have slowly dropped over the years, landing in the 120s a couple of years ago, have remained stable.
The really good news -- and the "relief" I mentioned above -- is that there has been no sign of autoimmune hemolytic anemia (AIHA) since I began the OL protocol. On the quality-of-life scale, dealing with sudden bouts of severe hemolysis of red cells has been the bane of my existence since the first incident occurred in early 2007. Over the course of time I became refractory to more and more AIHA treatments, including steroids and Rituxan. It was even getting to the point that the RCD protocol (Rituxan, cyclophosphamide, and dexamethasone) was only holding me for three months.
Here I am, six months later, with normalized red counts, hemoglobin testing in the 13s and 14s, and no signs of orange pee or pounding in my ear. I can't leap tall buildings in a single bound, but I can at least climb the stairs with ease.
I am thinking that the Revlimid, doing its immunomodulating thing, is probably responsible, or primarily so. I had already become refractory to Rituxan, and Arzerra is a cousin of that drug. Dr. Chanan-Khan, the CLL Revlimid research guru, told me that he knows of two actively hemolysing patients whose situations were turned around when they were given Revlimid.
The take-home message to all of you fellow AIHA-ers is: Consider Revlimid.
This is the big "Plus" in "Stable disease Plus" and -- along with maintaining evident stability of the nodes -- is a big reason why I will continue to take the drug and work with the protocol. My doctor and I are discussing ways to tweak it or change it, given that it appears I will have no more progress with the nodes the way things are. The question is: What is the minimum dosage I need to maintain stable disease and keep the AIHA in its box? And another question: To what degree is the Arzerra contributing to this stability? And of course: Will upping the dose of Revlimid give better results on the nodes?
There are always more questions than answers in CLL.
February 2014 in Sedona, AZ, slimmed down to 144 lbs.
My name is David Arenson and I have chronic lymphocytic leukemia. It may kill me. Then again, it may not. Life is full of surprises, although I must admit that this is not the sort of cliffhanger that I had in mind for my 50s.
Until a few years ago, like most people, I had assumed death and disease were the province of old age, not the prime of life. I was just an average person health-wise, and feeling rather fine, thank you. I passed by the occasional wheelchair-bound person or bald-headed chemotherapy patient and didn't think that sort of thing would ever apply to me. The odds were against it, after all. Then, after a blood test at age 46, I became one of those people.
And so, my life has changed. I still enjoy the same things I always have – my beautiful and wonderful soulmate, Marilyn, and music, and walks in the woods, and cheap Asian food at strip malls, and movies in which a giant reptile threatens an entire city.
But I also have a new reality that intrudes, one where mutant B lymphocytes threaten my entire body, and one which requires becoming accustomed to unfamiliar and intimidating territory. My spleen and lymph nodes are swollen and my neck sometimes looks like that of a chipmunk storing too many nuts; bothersome nodes in my left pelvic area are a constant reminder that something is wrong with my body. Over time my immunity has been degraded and I have had to rely more on antibiotics to shake infections that once gave me no pause. I have also experienced the joys of autoimmune hemolytic anemia, of which there are none, which is a scary condition in which the body destroys its own red blood cells, and which leads to fatigue.
My CLL has had more than a physical impact. It has been quite an education -- both in terms of what I have learned about my ability to cope with what once was unthinkable, and in terms of navigating the almost freakishly contradictory world of CLL management and treatment. Needless to say, only a fool treads there without getting the lay of the land; too many local doctors are simply clueless, and even the experts can disagree. I do not claim to have it all figured out, and I expect that I never will, but I am doing my best, and I hope some of my thoughts can be of use to you.
So, if sharing my journey helps you along the way, it will have been my pleasure, something green and growing in this hard, new landscape. We help each other as we can, and this is why we have a vibrant CLL community of websites, forums, and blogs (see links below). The end of the circle is the start of the circle. What goes around comes around.
Writing has been in my blood longer than CLL. I am a former newspaper reporter and editor and co-author with Marilyn of two humor-trivia books, Disco Nixon and Rambo Reagan. Marilyn and I met at the University of California at Santa Cruz and now live in the red rock country of Northern Arizona . . . CLL Diary has been featured in CR, the magazine of the American Association for Cancer Research, and in Family Practice Management, a publication of the American Academy of Family Physicians. Besides writing about CLL, I helped establish CLL Forum, one of the largest discussion groups for patients and caregivers.
As we patients eventually learn, CLL is not a one-size-fits-all disease. Some cases are indolent, some progressive, some quite aggressive. Prognostic tests can give us a much better idea of what type of CLL we are dealing with. Knowledge is power, and I believe patients should have these tests and know what they mean. They do not provide a complete picture, and sometimes clinical symptoms tell a different story than one might expect from the results, but they are important tools that can help determine the when and what of treatment.
Here are the tests: IgVH mutational status, FISH, ZAP-70 (as done at a research institution such as UC San Diego, not a commercial lab), and CD38.
My tests indicate a progressing disease. I am IgVH unmutated and ZAP-70 positive, as measured at UCSD. I developed an 11q deletion per FISH in 2006, which disappeared in 2012 for some mysterious reason, giving way to a 13q deletion. I am CD38 positive now, despite having been CD38 negative for years.
Given my tender age, I will always be navigating treatment options if I want to have any hope of living a normal life span. Knowing my test results helps me plan ahead, and knowing the possible end point in my battle with CLL helps me plan what treatments make the most sense, and in what order. Like many CLLers, I am encouraged by the progress being made by new drugs such Ibrutinib and ABT-199; not to mention the news that T-cells can be supercharged to wipe out the CLL -- in much the same ferocious way that macrophages went after my red cells during hemolysis with AIHA.
The "when and what" of treatment is a subject of great debate among CLL experts as well as patients and local doctors. I tend to take a conservative approach, ever aware of the fact that overall survival in CLL depends not just on the effectiveness of your first treatment. What you do for an encore -- your ability to respond to treatment again, and then again -- may determine how long you get to stand on the stage. The late CLL expert Dr. Terry Hamblin once wrote that CLL is a war of attrition, and I am ever mindful that such wars are won, if they can be won, slowly.
Whether my decisions ultimately are proved wise will be written in these pages. I began using single-agent rituximab (Rituxan) in 2004, adding the steroid methylprednisolone in March 2007 to combat AIHA. In October 2007, after a severe AIHA relapse that left me steroid refractory, I was treated with Rituxan + cyclophosphamide, vincristine, and prednsione (R-CVP). In January 2009, when AIHA and hemolysis of red blood cells returned, I had Rituxan + cyclophosphamide and dexamethasone (R-CD). I used this a few times to control the condition, with shorter and shorter periods until AIHA relapse. Starting in February 2010 I used Arzerra (ofatumumab) and Revlimid (lenalidomide), and then for a year and a half maintained control of the disease -- and the AIHA -- with Revlimid alone. Alas, the Revlimid came at a high price in terms of blood clotting issues, and as of 2012 I was treated with bendamustine and rituximab, which gave me a CR in the marrow and blood, leaving some swollen lymph nodes behind.
2013 is turning out to be my most challenging year yet, with the arrival of Richter's Transformation in April. Up to 10% of CLL patients can expect to develop Richter's, in which some of the CLL clones mutate into a more dangerous B cell lymphoma. Richter's is fatal in some 50% of cases, but it also can be beaten with chemotherapy and stem cell transplant. Read my latest posts for updates on my experience.
My best advice to patients is to gather all the facts you can about your CLL and then think ahead and plan ahead. Develop a long-term strategy, but expect to have to roll with the punches. And don't be rushed by doctors, family, or anyone else into a decision you are not comfortable with: Treating CLL is almost never an emergency. Take the time to learn and reflect, and then go with your intuition.
There are no guarantees that your choices will work out, of course, but at least you can rest assured that you put your heart and soul into making them. That sort of effort is the effort that can, with luck, beat cancer.
It's a peace sign, or a V for victory, not sure which
Quotes I Like
"The thing in life is not to know all the answers but rather to ask the right questions." -- Anonymous
"Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out." -- Vaclav Havel
"The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind." -- Blake
"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -- E.M. Forster
"Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy." -- Anne Frank
“Panic is a projection that is not real. We are not just our fears. Our fears do not necessarily determine our future. This is significant.” -- Greg Anderson, lung cancer survivor
"I had a choice to make when they said I was going to die. I could chose to live the rest of my life dying, or I could chose to live life until I die. And I chose to live life'. -- Anonymous cancer patient
"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." -- Soren Kierkegaard
"It's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another." -- Roseanne Rosannadanna
Either way, we'll be remembered...
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I am not a doctor and I do not play one on the internet. If you take something I say as medical advice and die as a result, perhaps in your next life you will not believe everything you read on the internet.
Copyright 2005-2014 by David Arenson. All rights reserved. Material is for the personal use of CLL patients and caregivers and may not be used or reproduced for commercial purposes.