Can Anti-psychotic Drugs Treat Cancer?

According to an article in Medical News Today, researchers in Australia have found that antipsychotic drugs seem to have the ability to kill cancer cells, especially those found in the lung, brain and breast.

It seems that antipsychotic drugs in general, and especially Orap, or pimozide, an especially objectionable first generation drug — according to those who have taken it — and Zyprexa are particularly good at preventing such cancers, or so it seemed to those studying those schizophrenic persons who have taken them over the years.

This is strange, given that it is well known that those with schizophrenia and other major mental illnesses tend to die a good 25 years before their peers, though who knows how such results may have been skewed by such deadly illnesses as depression and anorexia. This is not to say that individuals with schizophrenia do not die early, by suicide as much as for purely medical reasons, but do we know that they do or do not die of cancer, when they die earlier than the so-called mentally healthy? And if not of cancer, what do they in fact die so early because of?

An interesting question, because if it is of the other usual culprits like heart disease and diabetes, then such drugs as Zyprexa are a double edged sword, protecting one from cancer even as it may induce the same metabolic syndrome of obesity, diabetes, heart disease etc that will kill them instead. Much good that does! For cancer patients, however, who do not have schizophrenia or Bipolar I, and who already suffer from cachexia and lack of appetite, the appetite stimulation of Zyprexa would be a good thing, even as it treats the cancer itself.

Who knows? It would be wonderful — it seems to me — for there to be other uses, perhaps just as important uses for Zyprexa than as an antipsychotic. Then it would not be under the threat — due to Lilly’s admittedly reckless indifference at best, and ruthless manipulating at worst– of being taken off the market which it seems often to be, what with so many lawsuits afflicting the company with regard to it. And what a boon to us who have suffered from the worst of the side effects. If we can manage somehow to solve the weight gain effects of our drugs, perhaps we will eventually outlive those who do not or cannot take them due to the side effects that THEY experience, which we ourselves may not.

Anyhow here is the article itself, should you wish to read it.

Fighting Cancer With Anti-Psychotic Drugs

13 Aug 2009   

The observation that people taking medication for schizophrenia have lower cancer rates than other people has prompted new research revealing that anti-psychotic drugs could help treat some major cancers.

A preliminary finding in the current online issue of the International Journal of Cancer reports that the anti-psychotic drug, pimozide, kills lung, breast and brain cancer cells in in-vitro laboratory experiments.

Several epidemiological studies have noted the low rate of cancer among schizophrenic patients. These studies found, for example, that these patients have lower rates of lung cancer than other people, even though they are more likely to smoke.

Genetic factors and the possibility of reduced cancer detection in patients have been considered and over the past decade anti-psychotic drugs have been suggested as possible mediators of this effect.

In the new study, pimozide was the most lethal of six anti-psychotic drugs tested by a team from UNSW and the University of Queensland. Rapidly-dividing cancer cells require cholesterol and lipids to grow and the researchers suspect that pimozide kills cancer cells by blocking the synthesis or movement of cholesterol and lipid in cancer cells.

Analysis of gene expression in test cancer cells showed that genes involved in the synthesis and uptake of cholesterol and lipids were boosted when pimozide was introduced.

To test the idea that pimozide acts by disrupting cholesterol homeostasis, the researchers combined pimozide with mevastatin, a drug that inhibits cholesterol production in cells. The two drugs were more lethal in combination against cancer cells than when either drug was used alone.

“The combination of pimozide and mevastatin increased cancer cell death,” says UNSW researcher Dr Louise Lutze-Mann, a co-author of the study. “We needed a lower dose of each drug to kill the same amount of cells.”

Although side-effects are associated with the use of high doses of these drugs – such as tremors, muscle spasms and slurred speech – these effects are considered to be tolerable in patients where other treatments have failed and the drugs will only be used short-term. These side-effects would be reduced if the drugs were used in combination with a lipid-lowering drug, such as mevastatin.

The researchers have also investigated the effects of olazapine , a “second-generation” antipsychotic drug, and found that it also kills cancer cells but has a better side-effect profile. When administered to patients, it accumulates in the lung, which suggests that it may prove to be most useful in treating lung cancer.

The researchers are now testing these drugs on tumour cells from brain cancers since these tumours are extremely difficult to treat and are frequently associated with poor patient prognosis. Patients diagnosed with glioblastoma, for example, survive less than one year.

The results are very promising as these drugs are greater than 50-fold more effective at killing glioblastoma cells than the chemotherapeutic drug currently in use. The researchers are also investigating the effects of these drugs on cells derived from drug-resistant childhood cancers where current chemotherapy has failed.

Another hopeful prospect is an investigation of another group of drugs, called SERMs, which are similar in structure to the antipsychotic drugs but have far fewer side-effects associated with them.

Source:
Dr. Louise Lutze-Mann
University of New South Wales


Article URL: http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/160600.php

Main News Category: Schizophrenia

Also Appears In:  Breast Cancer,  Cancer / Oncology,  Lung Cancer,


Mary Neal Tells Her Story

I am going to try to embed the youtube videos of Mary Neal telling the story of what happened to her severely mentally ill (but non-violent) brother Larry M Neal in Shelby County Jail, TN, but I am not sure if it will embed or not. Here goes nothing! Ah! It did work, So the top one is first and the second one is last. PLEASE WATCH. and then go to the website mentioned in the post below this one and see more details of what is going on. This never ought to happen in the United States, it is evil, but it does, and it happens far too often. I think Johnnie Cochran would turn over in his grave if he knew what had happened to and within his firm after his death…

Thanks, everyone!

Incarcerated and Mentally Ill: Larry Neal’s Story

Larry Neal might have been just another chronically mentally ill man living in Shelby County, Tennessee, perhaps not living very well, because he didn’t take his meds so he was often disruptive and committed petty crimes like loitering and panhandling and even “theft” — if you call pilfering supermarket grapes in plain sight of the clerks “theft.” He had been in the hospital, he had been in the hospital a looong time, from the age of 9 through age 28 or more because of mumps-induced case of schizophrenia, which is to say, known brain damage. But we all know what happened to the large state mental hospitals in the 60s and 70s: they dumped most of their patients onto the streets, unprepared  to deal with the world, and the world quite unprepared to deal with them. For many it made for a more than merely difficult situation and for some it was literally the beginning of the end of their lives.

This was the case for Larry, though of course no one close to him knew it at the time. When it happened, and indeed precisely what happened to him, no one in his family or his circle of relatives and friends knows today. All they know is that in 2003 he was picked up by the police for another of his petty infractions and instead of being dropped off at home, he was taken to the local jail where he was held, unbeknownst to anyone, and despite their many inquiries about his whereabouts, for 18 days. Despite the family’s putting out Missing Persons alerts, no one told them that he was in police custody, not until the 18th day, when the police admitted that Larry had died while detained — because deprived of his heart meds, his psych meds, bad treatment, abuse?  No one would say.

The very fact that no one would tell them anything forms a big part of this story and why it continues to haunt Larry’s family today. There seemed to be a cover-up and a potent conspiracy against their knowing anything about what happened from the very first.

I could tell you the rest of this very disturbing story, but I think it is much better told by Larry’s sister, Mary Neal, who knows all the details and relates it with better accuracy than I ever could. That said, I am going to refer you to her website and encourage you to read the entire thing, lengthy though it is. Mary is and was Larry’s champion and she continues to advocate for all the mentally who are incarcerated and against the practice of incarcerating those with psychiatric disabilities at all. Her website is truly worth reading, even though it is upsetting because of the profound injustices perpetrated on both Larry as well as his survivors.

I hope as many of you as possible will also want to sign Mary’s petition and write your congressional representatives about getting better treatment for incarcerated psychiatric patients.

http://www.WrongfulDeathofLarryNeal.com

Finally, last but far from least, here is a powerful poem Mary shared with me in the comments section in this blog recently. Alas, it is buried so far back that you might not see it. Because of this I asked if I might post it here. I think it is terribly a propos of this story but also of just how poorly those with a chronic psychiatric condition are treated compared to, say, Michael VIcks’ dogs… This is not to say that the dogs should not be rescued and treated well, only that Larry Neal and people with mental illness ought to be given at a minimum equal compassion.

DOG JUSTICE

by Mary Neal

Too bad you weren’t a dog, my Brother
In my heart, I cried
Many more people would care about you
And wonder why you died

You had no spots or floppy ears
You never fetched a ball
Instead, you were a human being
But poor, black, and flawed

You died in jail for mental illness
I know down in my heart
Your death would be investigated
If only you could bark

Dog deaths get swift justice
Their abusers are sent to jail
Poor Mama would have closure now
If you’d had a wagging tail

But you were made in God’s image
And some day, I have no doubt
The mentally ill and American dogs
Will have at least equal clout

(All rights reserved.)  Mary Neal

You can contact her at : Marylovesjustice@gmail.com

Vision Therapy, Art and Wonder

The following may repeat some of what I have written before, though expressed rather differently. I “purloined” it from a letter I wrote to someone I once knew, who I hope will forgive me if he ever visits this blog and recognizes it here.

____________________________

Life continues to present many challenges, which both the poetry book and Mary’s introduction to WE MAD CLIMB SHAKY LADDERS illuminate , I suppose, in some detail. But among the thrills and wonders of these last few years of recovery are two that are related to one another but which I would never have dreamed of in relation to me.

I speak of vision, one — of depth perception —  and two, of art. I don’t know if you have heard of the recent science memoir by Sue Barry called, Fixing My Gaze, in which she describes her strabismus  and her work in vision therapy. Apparently the book has become quite popular, at least around here, after a review in the Hartford Courant (Barry lives not far from Northampton, MA). Strangely enough, I have been writing for the past year about, among other things, my own experience in vision therapy trying to achieve stereopsis .  I believe I must have had “3-D vision” at some point, since I did not have strabismus as a child. At least not to the same extent as Barry, and I think I did when very young “see” what others said they saw through those Viewmaster toys (you must remember those binocular viewers with the “3-D” slides?). My later lack of 3-D vision never bothered me, apparently, and I never knew that I was missing anything, until I developed frank double vision about four or five years ago. My optometrist told me I probably had had unrecognized intermittent exotropia since childhood, but that my eye muscles had been somewhat stronger then and so my vision had stayed single. She could not say however if it had indeed been binocular, that is to say that I had used both eyes in seeing.. In any event, it was only when I was given prism glasses in 2008 and in February suddenly experienced brief, brief flashes of stereopsis that I understood what most people see, what I had in  fact  gone for so long without seeing. The world was suddenly, achingly more beautiful than — well, than anyone else seemed to recognize:

The first time on the Broad Street Green I passed the huge tree with its bark “sticking out” I was stunned, stopping dead in my tracks to stare at the reddish burnt sienna ridges that had suddenly leapt out at me. Stark, knifelike and jagged, the crusty surface was backlit by an early setting sun in such a way that  it all seemed limned with light. A gentle roughness edged the troughs and depressions. Spawned from the cortex wood, the bark strained and stretched. I could scarcely believe how the air gently touched and tasted each indentation and projection of bark — as if saying, “I love you, I love every inch of you and my kisses, my airy bearhug proves it.” Just as surely as I knew the air loved that bark, I knew that space, the “emptiness” that cups and holds everything in its place safely,  adores matter. This struck me as neither bizarre nor even uncommon, only obvious. What was strange and unfortunate to me was the fact that no one I spoke to about this experience seemed to know what I was talking about…

I cannot tell you (or anyone else for that matter, except perhaps Sue Barry, or Oliver Sacks) how much “space loves us” and everything it touches. Space is what gives us as a gift to ourselves..And when I saw it, saw space for the first time I fell in love with matter, and with the hollows and shapeliness of everything. I wanted to do nothing but gaze upon the world without touching it or or talking for at least a week…I wanted to walk around in silent solitude, experiencing space without interruption, to see without the interposing of frivolous conversation how incredible it was that you write words with pens held above the paper; that when you see a sign or a billboard, there is — and you are as certain of this as of any delusion —the knowledge that there is  flatness to it, and that “more space” lies beyond it…Someone’s nose which reaches out in space is far more interesting than their voice, and the way a hand extends outward can be the most lovely thing seen…Indeed, I would tell people quite spontaneously how beautiful they looked, the way their noses projected from their faces, or their hands suddenly coming out at me…

Oh, it is so impossible to convey the sheer — well, even now there are no words for this, no words beyond that single inadequate word, beauty, for which there seems to be no useful synonym. All I can say is that while I felt no better about myself, I certainly fell in love with the substance of the world! Who can say, What is the matter with the world? Seriously? All is the world is the matter, and that matter is more exquisitely lovely and worthy of being preserved than even many principles — Free trade, capitalism, rugged individualism above socialism in any and all forms etc —  Americans feel they have  a right to hold so dear…
As for Art? In my cooler moments I reduce it to “medicine”, to symptomatology…thinking perhaps this amazing talent, so unexpected and newfound, has merely to do with the Temporal Lobe Epilepsy or seizure disorder with which I was diagnosed after having ECT about 3-5 years ago. I don’t know. (I read in SEIZED by Eve La Plante that not only are there personality changes but one can acquire sudden artistic abilities and interests, almost full-blown after developing TLE..so who knows?) Perhaps not. In any event, (I should mention that this is my theory little mentioned to anyone at all…Not sure to whom I should talk…) starting in 2007 I took up lifesize papier mache sculpture in a serious way, and just a week ago suddenly, VERY suddenly, discovered that I could paint portraits, just like that…I had never done a portrait before, rarely even tried to draw, had always said I couldn’t draw or paint for beans. Then one instant I felt drawn to paint (with which I had always decorated my papier mache, with swirls and colors but not true representational painting) and to doing “real art”. I “decided” I would paint a young man, and then went ahead and fearlessly did so (see first attachment)…Since then I have done one portrait a day. Some imaginary, some from photos…And I have no idea, had no idea I could do so at all! Frankly, ditto the sculpture, though I am getting used to that ability now that I have several to my name…(see two other attachments for examples of earliest pieces).
I hope you won’t mind all this “Wow is me” stuff…I’m not usually so impressed with myself, I assure you. However, while I am at it, I want to send you three newer poems. I actually dislike most of the illness poems in the book, and want you to see what I have been doing more recently,  since the DIVIDED MINDS book was finished in 2003. I hope these poems speak for themselves. The “Epithalamion” one got a lot of chuckles, and ought to, when read properly (best out loud). I read it at my twin’s wedding. “To the Reader” will be the first poem in my second book, the opener, though perhaps not as “welcoming” as “How to read a Poem”.  And the vision therapy one is about what I have been doing in order to regain stereopsis. Which by the way really works, vision therapy that is, despite the skepticism of most ophthalmologists, who never bother to try it out, just condemn and contemn it out of hand, because it is done by ODs not MDs….VT has to be continually practiced though or like me you can lose the ground you gained after a while. Now I struggle to gain it back. I vow to  keep practicing. I do not think I can go without the exercises not after having gotten my eyes to do what they should do. It is so discouraging now to be back at nearly square one, I must admit…

Compulsive Eating and Zyprexa (updated)

ALL EYES ARE UPON US
ALL EYES ARE UPON US

This is my ALL EYES ARE UPON US papier mache sculpture head — It should easily be finished by the time I am having a poetry reading and exhibit in Mystic on November 15th. I would like to exhibit it with the others if possible. It is the newest of my work and therefore the one I am most proud of. I am not completely clear just where I am going with it, but I do know not to worry, that inspiration will come to me eventually. Indeed, some already has; I am starting to place a tri-folded American flag underneath her ( yes it is a woman…) arms, as if she is hugging it for dear life…Why? not sure, but I believe my subconscious has a message for me there…I will decipher it and rest of it later, when I am through. However, my thoghts on the “meaning” is never the last word on it. I expect my viewers to do the same, that is, interpret the sculpture according to their own lights, according to the vicissitudes, or the longstanding truths of their own lives, not mine. It should mean whatever they want it to mean, according to their own life experiences. All of which is to say, There is no right answer, no real meaning here, only the sculpture’s evocative power to suggest this to one person and that to another.

Now regarding this post’s title, Compulsive Eating and Zyprexa: I had a rough week two weeks ago, during which I did something self-destructive though along too familiar lines with a “fagot” of cigarettes tied together with thread and simultaneously lighted. There was talk of the hospital to “keep me safe” if nothing else, but I saw no point, and indeed there was none. No hospital had ever proven they coud truly keep me safe: I have attempted and successfully hurt myself sometimes seriously almost everywhere I’ve been sent to, including breaking a carefully supervised mirror in a make-up compact and slicing my wrist open. My visitng nurse knew and agreed but made me agree to take a PRN of Zyprexa for a while. I didn’t really fight this. As  you, Readers, know, Zyprexa is a drug abut which I am extraordinarily ambivalent. It is both the single most helpful and effective drug I have ever taken, nearly a miracle medication, if not precisely that, but also the absolute pits in terms of a side effect I hate more than any.  I have not yet figured out how to tolerate this love/hate relationship I have with the drug. For instance, despite hating the single worst side effect, I very much appreciate being able to read, read, read, to concentrate and pay attention and remember..

Oh, perhaps it feels subtle the effect that Zyprexa produces, the therapeutic one, the helpful effect . In actuality, though, the change in my behavior is immense, not to mention on some very fundamental thought patterns. I don’t actually recognize at first that all of it is drug-induced: I just sit down and decide to pick up a book — that all by itself is unusual for all that it feels natural. But so too is the astonishing fact that I feel interested instead of listless and fearful that I won’t “get” it, that I wont be able to attend,  and upon opening the book, the fact that every word seems to flow,  my mind fluid and absorbent and the words just pour, the words and the sense and the meaning, well, if I weren’t so absorbed in it, I would be amazed… But I think, Why haven’t I read before now? Why,  when it is so easy, have I not been doing this all along? ( I have forgotten that it was NOT this easy until I took the Zyprexa…). But the difference between then — not reading, and now — being able to attend and absorb and read — is not subtle at all. It is marked and significant. I finish books and articles, instead of merely dabbling in them. And I remember what I read, instead of most of the content flying in one ear and out the other.

But the same effect that brings about the therapeutic effect, unfortunately and seemingly by the same mechanism, induces the unwanted and horrid side effect of an insatiable appetite. Just as subtle and my being able to read, I scarcely notice at first that i want to eat more than usual. I simply feel increased desire for food, and think nothing of it, since wanting food is normal, right? It is only when I recognize, when I realize that it is constant, and occurs immediately after I have just finished a full dinner plate that I  begin to associate it to the new medication. My weight quicky increases, but because the food desire feels like me, as if it is simply native to me, I cannot justify it as purely drug induced, but am ashamed of my new lack of self-discipline and my also new tendency to compulsive overeating. Even when I know for certain it is all “chemistry” –and begin to tie ALL obesity therefore to chemistry to the effect of body chemistry that is out of whack, either congenitally or induced by the environment, perhaps by  igesting the wrong foods themselves. What if eating high fructose corn syrup, already associated (the reasons are still unclear) with obesity, changes one’s chemistry to produce a malignant positive feedback that only induces more obesity ad infinitum as long as one continues ingesting it? Even when I know for certain that my increased and uncontrollable appetite is pure “chemistry” it doesn’t fully relieve either my shame or my latent anger at what ‘I have done to myself.”

I have been off Zyprexa for many months now, and have rarely needed or taken a PRN, but thought it makes a noticeable and positive difference, it is the already evident weight gain I cannot/WILL not tolerate  (Truth is, it showed no sign of ending even at 160 pounds the last time I took it). My friend Joe who has taken it for years developed another very common “side effect” of this drug, diabetes, on top of ALS… So I am between the Scylla of “negative” and/or cognitive symptoms — poor concentration and inability to pay attention, the lack of a certain spark in my life AND Charybdis  — the whirlpool of an uncontrollable urge to eat up everything in my refrigerator right after I have already had a full meal, the wild animal panic if I cannot, and the lack of concentration induced in its place because all my mind can focus on is “What can I eat now???” It is a panic I feel in my hands, especially along the backs of them, more than anywhere. I certainly do not eat out of even imagined hunger. I know that. I feel FULL, in most cases because when I am hungry I usually will eat sensibly… But when smitten by the drug-induced food-seeking behavior after a  full meal, I can even tell myself out loud, “You aren’t hungry, you don’t need to eat”…this piece of bread, or cheese, or fruit, whatever is in my hand. I listen too, I put the food back at once, and wash my hands, and go back to the living room to read or do my art or whatever I was occupied in doing before I was seized by this compulsion. But literally no more than 10 or 20 seconds later, another food impulse will propel me from my seat to the refrigerator, and if not consciously thwarted I will eat. And eat, and eat. Not like a bulimic, mind you. No, I take one piece of fruit or bread or cheese (I did not last as a vegan, alas, because I felt sick and dizzy living on fruit and green and colored veggies) and a knife and a plate, and sit in a chair, and cut it up and eat it reasonably slowly while I read. But soon I am finished and ready to read again “solo.” That is when the tension starts building to another threshold over which I feel it is impossible to climb in safety.

What I do instead, is follow this ritual, with another just like it a couple of minutes later, and then a couple of minutes after finishing the second and ditto the third and fourth and… Before you know it I have eaten so many calories up to a certain point, a set point if you will, where finally the switch flips off and my “hunger” goes off, and so does the food-seeking…I can now settle down and get something done. but until the threshold is reached and surpassed, I cam think of nothing but eating. The cure for it, the only remedy, is that I must be sure to short circuit the cycle by taking Xyrem and forcing myself to go to bed after supper. And I must NOT eat all day and evening except for coffee and diet soda (luckily the Zyprexa induces food-seeking behavior and not real hunger, so I am not tortured as long as I do not break my fast), until right before bed I allow myself to take a few bites. If I do not eat at all, I do not feel like eating and the cravings do not even begin. It is when I do take the first bite, just like an alcoholic, that all bets are off and all the control gates to hold back the flood open.

I still think that Zyprexa induced eating and 15 mg of Abilify-induced lack of appetite would be a great way to study the science of appetite, what causes compulsive eating and what breaks that cycle and stops appetite and interest or uncontrollable interest altogether. I would agree to be that guinea pig but I’d aso say that plenty of people could do so…I don’t see why others would not react as I do, especially a plenty of people have had the same weight gain reaction as I.

I will try to continue my discussion of this topic soon, as I want to research it a bit and I have some further thoughts on the subject. However, at the moment I needs must get other work done…

TTFN

Oh yeah, by the way, Li and I had a decent discussion abut TLE during one of my recent visits and it made me feel better about him, for the time being. At least he is going to consider it, though he told me it never rules out schizophrenia as there are always a percentage of those with TLE that concomitantly have schizophrenia as well.