Living Proof: In the Hands of One Man
by Angelle Albright
When my good friend and film location scout Elston Howard called me in April to ask if some producers could look at my home for a film shoot, it wasn’t a surprise. These calls from him have been routine since I moved to the northshore 17 years ago. The filmmakers love looking at Southern-style homes on Louisiana’s scenic rivers. Each time they come, we follow the usual protocol, exchange niceties and go on about our way. This meeting, however, turned out to be a little different, slightly remarkable—and what I like to refer to as a “Godincidence.”
As I stood in my backyard with the producer, Bob Wilson, I perfunctorily asked him, “So, what’s this movie about that you’re shooting?”
He politely answered, “Oh, it’s a beautiful story about how one person can change the world. A research doctor at UCLA named Dennis Slamon pioneered a drug that saved the lives of over 300,000 women so far and possibly cured a certain type of breast cancer.”
Stunned, mouth fully ajar, I muttered, “Umm, you … you mean the drug Herceptin?”
“Yes!” he said. “How’d you know the name of it?”
I sharply replied, “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for that drug!”
“I can’t believe I’m getting to meet someone who’s actually taken Herceptin,” he responded. “So many of us are working cheaply, or even free, because we believe in the story and the cause. The crew is going to be happy I got to meet a real survivor.” After thanking me for allowing him to look at my home, he said he’d love for me to read the screenplay. He pulled it out of his bag and handed it to me. I held it in my hands and read the title: “Living Proof.” There I stood, staring at those words, knowing inside that I was “living proof” that something remarkable had happened to me. My hands were shaking with excitement.
He said, “You’ll be amazed at how this all came to be. This one man single-handedly fought for more than 10 years to get Herceptin approved. If it weren’t for him, the research and this miracle drug would have been shelved in 1988. The film confirms the old cliché that one man really can make a difference in this world.” I was beaming with excitement and curiosity. Before their car was out of my driveway, I was already positioned on my couch, script in hand. I read furiously, finishing the entire screenplay in just under two hours. To me, it was 500 times more incredible than Wilson said it was, because it was my story, too.
Faulty Gene
In the early ’80s, Dr. Dennis Slamon and others at the pharmaceutical company Genentech came up with a unique approach in the battle to cure cancer. They felt that if they could identify a gene causing the havoc, they could use that same gene to find a way to combat its devastation. It was a radical way of approaching the disease. Until then, the philosophy of oncology had always been to kill all of the cells in the body though chemotherapy, hoping to rid the body of the bad cells and start anew. The Genentech group identified a gene called HER2.
One out of every four women who develop breast cancer is HER2-positive. HER2 is not the hereditary breast cancer gene. It is simply a phenomenon of random cell mutation that occurs in only 25 percent of breast cancers. The gene makes a protein that gets over-expressed, and the protein causes cells to divide rapidly, making it the most aggressive and fastest-spreading breast cancer. Herceptin blocks the expression of that particular protein, thus preventing the bad cells from dividing and spreading at an unusual rate.
Herceptin was approved by the Food and Drug Administration in 1998 for use in breast cancer. Interestingly, the same phenomenon occurs in other types of cancers, such as lung and ovarian; trials are underway to see if those tumors can respond to the drug as breast cancer did.
HER2+
In 2005, at age 38, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors prudently informed me that I was HER2 positive and that I had the worst type of breast cancer. I was given a 54 percent chance of living five years and a 34 percent chance of living seven years. The news made it seem as if it were just a matter of time. My children were so young—9, 7 and 4. I was petrified. After learning that I would have to undergo eight total treatments of Adriamyacin, Cytoxen and Taxol and 35 treatments of radiation that would collectively make me lose my hair, my eyelashes, my eyebrows, my strength and my dignity, I was devastated. I had no choice but to accept the reality of my grim diagnosis, knowing I was possibly going to die in spite of all of the cell-killing therapy I was about to undergo. It truly seemed like too much to bear.
A Ray of Hope
My doctor, Jay Saux, smiled and offered a spot of sunshine. He said, “Angelle, there is a new drug out there that could change your outcome. It is very new and the studies aren’t clear yet because enough time hasn’t passed, but it is offering some positive results. So far, the women who have taken it are increasing their chance of survival dramatically.” I was skeptical, but happy there was one glimmer of anything positive.
After surviving the perils of chemotherapy for six months, I finally began Herceptin. I was frustrated with the idea of having to take it, because it meant continued trips to the chemo chair to receive the drug through my veins every three weeks. I was also warned that it could cause me to go into heart failure, and I would have to undergo a scan every other treatment to make sure the drug was not damaging my heart. I was hopeful about this new drug, but a bit angry that I had to continue being treated. So many of the other women I shared chemo with were able to resume their lives, and I had to continue on for two years—week after week, month after month—receiving Herceptin, not really knowing what it was doing for me. Walking through the parking lot of the cancer center when it seemed the rest of the world was at play was a very lonely thing. Instead of realizing the blessing I was receiving, I was simply feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t realize or appreciate that the life-saving drug I was taking almost didn’t come to be. It wasn’t until I read the script and uncovered the miracle story that I realized how fortunate I was to get it.
Reading the Script
It was a surreal thing to find out that one man alone was responsible for saving my life and the lives of an untold number of other women. As I read the story, it was impossible not to subconsciously weave my life with the unfolding story of how Herceptin made its way to the public. I imagined my childhood and the dreams I had for my life, and how they would have died along with me if Dr. Slamon had given up. I was surprised to find out that the HER2 gene was discovered in my sophomore year of high school and how much had to happen over 15 years to make Herceptin a reality. I wondered, “What if the gene had been discovered only recently? Herceptin would not have been available to me when I got sick.” It was a frightening thought. As I read on, I learned that Dr. Slamon worked with Genentech for six years until the company decided to halt the research on Herceptin for financial reasons. The board of directors slammed the door on his work the year I was graduating from college. Then his real battle began.
“What if he had just said ‘yes’ to giving up on it?” I wondered. His angst and frustration made their way to the ears of his good friend Lilly Tartikoff, the wife of former NBC executive Brandon Tartikoff. A Hollywood housewife, she decided to make Dr. Slamon’s dream her pet project, because he had been a good friend to Brandon while he was suffering from cancer. Again, I pondered my life and thought about my years working at the ABC affiliate in New Orleans. I was a little stunned to read that Brandon Tartikoff played a role in this story, because it instantly reminded me of my time in the news business. I remembered what a big deal it was that Tartikoff lived in New Orleans for six months while being treated for the cancer that Dr. Slamon helped him through. It all seemed too familiar.
Lilly Tartikoff asked Ron Perelman, the head of Revlon, to donate money, and he did. He gave Dr. Slamon’s research a two-million-dollar endowment, but Genentech did not initially go forward. Dr. Slamon was resilient in convincing them that he was on the verge of something significant that could change cancer treatment. Reluctantly, Genentech agreed to allow him to continue.
There were still many roadblocks to come during the next 10 years. As the Phase I trials began, the board appointed another researcher to head up the trials. Dr. Slamon fought back and demanded to be allowed to run the trials, because he was the one who understood the science. As I read this, I thought back about my wedding and how things could’ve gone awry. As Phase II went on, the FDA slowed things down as they often do when making sure a drug is safe. Because he couldn’t give the drug to everybody, Dr. Slamon had to watch women die, knowing in his heart it might have saved them. It was a grueling and emotional battle, but he continued to fight, not knowing if his dream would become a reality. A woman with stage IV metastatic cancer who had just months to live survived two years because of one dose of Herceptin. Her mother begged Dr. Slamon for more, but his hands were tied.
As the subsequent phases continued, I saw myself having my first child and thought again about my future and my dreams. Again, I contemplated, “What if?” Dr. Slamon ran into many more battles with Phase III of the trials but forged on. I shuddered at the thought that if Dr. Slamon had given up anywhere along the way, I wouldn’t be alive right now. It was humbling to read that all of the work he did for two decades was at the expense of being there for his own wife and children. Reading the script made me realize how much I took my Herceptin treatment for granted. I was left dumbfounded, grateful, and silent …
Living Proof
Shooting in New Orleans wrapped up in June for “Living Proof,” which is scheduled to appear on the Lifetime television channel in October. After reading the script, Renée Zellweger wanted to take on the cause and decided to produce the film. She recruited Harry Connick Jr. while filming a romantic comedy with him. He agreed. Fighting cancer has been his favorite charity since he lost several of his loved ones to the disease. Many others involved in the project, such as the director and the cinematographer, came on board for the same reason.
Bob Wilson, who gave me the script that day, is among them. He invited me—and my friend Susan Bopp, another lucky Herceptin recipient—to visit the set while the closing scene of the film was shot. The day was amazing. We were extras in the last scene, and we met everyone involved in the project, including Connick. Many of the people told me they took my chance meeting with Wilson as a sign, as they were all from California and had wanted to film somewhere cooler. Connick convinced them to shoot in New Orleans to help the economy. Meeting a Herceptin survivor by chance during the scouting phase convinced them they were doing the right thing and made everything they had been doing seem worthwhile. We felt very humble and small, but nonetheless pleased.
The final scene was shot in Tad Gormley Stadium. Dr. Slamon was a runner. In the closing scene, he, played by Connick, is running in the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. As he’s jogging through the empty stadium, women start appearing in the stands one at a time until it is filled completely with cheering Herceptin survivors. The fantasy scene illustrates the number of women who are saved by the miracle discovery every two years. Susan and I will be somewhere in that crowd in the film, but the important thing is that we are in that crowd in real life.
We have been invited to the late September premiere, when the crew will return. I was told that Dr. Slamon is expected to attend, and we will have the opportunity to meet the Nobel Prize candidate in person. If that happens, I am certain I will look upon him with awe and gratitude—and even more certain that I will give him a hug instead of shaking his hand.
