Secret Army: More Manoeuvres Revealed

 

I don’t know about you but I find it difficult to grasp the idea that there are more bugs in my body than there are ‘me’ cells. That is, microorganisms (mostly bacteria) outnumber the aggregate of liver, skin and what-have-you cells. They’re attracted, of course, to the warm, damp surfaces of the cavities in our bodies that are covered by a sticky, mucous membrane, e.g., the mouth, nose and especially the intestines (the gastrointestinal tract).

The story so far

Over the last few years it’s become clear that these co-residents — collectively called the microbiota — are not just free-loaders. They’re critical to our well-being in helping to fight infection by other microrganisms (as we noted in Our Inner Self), they influence our immune system and in the gut they extract the last scraps of nutrients from our diet. So maybe it makes them easier to live with if we keep in mind that we need them every bit as much as they depend on us.

We now know that there are about 2000 different species of bacteria in the human gut (yes, that really is 2,000 different types of bug) and, with all that diversity, it’s not surprising that the total number of genes they carry far exceeds our own complement (by several million to about 20,000). In it’s a small world we noted that obesity causes a switch in the proportions of two major sub-families of bacteria, resulting in a decrease in the number of bug genes. The flip side is that a more diverse bug population (microbiome) is associated with a healthy status. What’s more, shifts of this sort in the microbiota balance can influence cancer development. Even more remarkably, we saw in Hitchhiker Or Driver? That the microbiome may also play a role in the spread of tumours to secondary sites (metastasis).

Time for a deep breath

If all this is going on in the intestines you might well ask “What about the lungs?” — because, and if you didn’t know you might guess, their job of extracting oxygen from the air we inhale means that they are covered with the largest surface area of mucosal tissue in the body. They are literally an open invitation to passing microorganisms — as we all know from the ease with which we pick up infections.

In view of what we know about gut bugs a rather obvious question is “Could the bug community play a role in lung cancer?” It’s a particularly pressing question because not only is lung cancer the major global cause of cancer death but 70% lung cancer patients have bacterial infections and these markedly influence tumour development and patient survival. Tyler Jacks, Chengcheng Jin and colleagues at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology approached this using a mouse model for lung cancer (in which two mutated genes, Kras and P53 drive tumour formation).

In short they found that germ-free mice (or mice treated with antibiotics) were significantly protected from lung cancer in this model system.

How bacteria can drive lung cancer in mice. Left: scheme of a lung with low levels of bacteria and normal levels of immune system cells. Right: increased levels of bacteria accelerate tumour growth by stimulating the release of chemicals from blood cells that in turn activate cells of the immune system to release other effector molecules that promote tumour growth. The mice were genetically altered to promote lung tumour growth (by mutation of the Kras and P53 genes). In more detail the steps are that the bacteria cause macrophages to release interleukins (IL-1 & IL-23) that stick to a sub-set of T cells (γδ T cells): these in turn release factors that drive tumour cell proliferation, including IL-22. From Jin et al. 2019.

As lung tumours grow in this mouse model the total bacterial load increases. This abnormal regulation of the local bug community stimulates white blood cells (T cells present in the lung) to make and release small proteins (cytokines, in particular interleukin 17) that signal to neutrophils and tumour cells to promote growth.

This new finding reveals that cross-talk between the local microbiota and the immune system can drive lung tumour development. The extent of lung tumour growth correlated with the levels of bacteria in the airway but not with those in the intestinal tract — so this is an effect specific to the lung bugs.

Indeed, rather than the players prominent in the intestines (Bs & Fs) that we met in Hitchhiker Or Driver?, the most common members of the lung microbiome are Staphylococcus, Streptococcus and Lactobacillus.

In a final twist Jin & Co. took bacteria from late-stage tumours and inoculated them into the lungs of mice with early tumours that then grew faster.

These experiments have revealed a hitherto unknown role for bacteria in cancer and, of course, the molecular signals identified join the ever-expanding list of potential targets for drug intervention.

References

Jin, C. et al. (2019). Commensal Microbiota Promote Lung Cancer Development via γδ T Cells. Cell 176, 998-1013.e16.

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Fantastic Stuff

 

It certainly is for Judy Perkins, a lady from Florida, who is the subject of a research paper published last week in the journal Nature Medicine by Nikolaos Zacharakis, Steven Rosenberg and their colleagues at the National Cancer Institute in Bethesda, Maryland. Having reached a point where she was enduring pain and facing death from metastatic breast cancer, the paper notes that she has undergone “complete durable regression … now ongoing for over 22 months.”  Wow! Hard to even begin to imagine how she must feel — or, for that matter, the team that engineered this outcome.

How was it done?

Well, it’s a very good example of what I do tend to go on about in these pages — namely that science is almost never about ‘ground-breaking breakthroughs’ or ‘Eureka’ moments. It creeps along in tiny steps, sideways, backwards and sometimes even forwards.

You may recall that in Self Help – Part 2, talking about ‘personalized medicine’, we described how in one version of cancer immunotherapy a sample of a patient’s white blood cells (T lymphocytes) is grown in the lab. This is a way of either getting more immune cells that can target the patient’s tumour or of being able to modify the cells by genetic engineering. One approach is to engineer cells to make receptors on their surface that target them to the tumour cell surface. Put these cells back into the patient and, with luck, you get better tumour cell killing.

An extra step (Gosh! Wonderful GOSH) enabled novel genes to be engineered into the white cells.

The Shape of Things to Come? took a further small step when DNA sequencing was used to identify mutations that gave rise to new proteins in tumour cells (called tumour-associated antigens or ‘neoantigens’ — molecular flags on the cell surface that can provoke an immune response – i.e., the host makes antibody proteins that react with (stick to) the antigens). Charlie Swanton and his colleagues from University College London and Cancer Research UK used this method for two samples of lung cancer, growing them in the lab to expand the population and testing how good these tumour-infiltrating cells were at recognizing the abnormal proteins (neo-antigens) on cancer cells.

Now Zacharakis & Friends followed this lead: they sequenced DNA from the tumour tissue to pinpoint the main mutations and screened the immune cells they’d grown in the lab to find which sub-populations were best at attacking the tumour cells. Expand those cells, infuse into the patient and keep your fingers crossed.

Adoptive cell transfer. This is the scheme from Self Help – Part 2 with the extra step (A) of sequencing the breast tumour. Four mutant proteins were found and tumour-infiltrating lymphocytes reactive against these mutant versions were identified, expanded in culture and infused into the patient.

 

What’s next?

The last step with the fingers was important because there’s almost always an element of luck in these things. For example, a patient may not make enough T lymphocytes to obtain an effective inoculum. But, regardless of the limitations, it’s what scientists call ‘proof-of-principle’. If it works once it’ll work again. It’s just a matter of slogging away at the fine details.

For Judy Perkins, of course, it’s about getting on with a life she’d prepared to leave — and perhaps, once in while, glancing in awe at a Nature Medicine paper that does not mention her by name but secures her own little niche in the history of cancer therapy.

References

McGranahan et al. (2016). Clonal neoantigens elicit T cell immunoreactivity and sensitivity to immune checkpoint blockade. Science 10.1126/science.aaf490 (2016).

Zacharakis, N. et al. (2018). Immune recognition of somatic mutations leading to complete durable regression in metastatic breast cancer. Nature Medicine 04 June 2018.

The Shocking Effect of Boiled Bugs

There’s never a dull moment in science – well, not many – and at the moment no field is fizzing more than immunotherapy. Just the other day in Outsourcing the Immune Response we talked about the astonishing finding that cells from healthy people could be used to boost the immune response – a variant on the idea of taking from patients cells that attack cancers, growing them in the lab and using genetic engineering to increase potency (generally called adoptive cell therapy).

A general prod

Just when you thought that was as smart as it could get, along comes Angus Dalgleish and chums from various centres in the UK and Spain with yet another way to give the immune system a shock. They used microorganisms (i.e. bugs) as a tweaker. The idea is that bacteria (that have been heat-killed) are injected, they interact with the host’s immune system and, by altering the proteins expressed on immune cells (macrophages, natural killer cells and T cells) can boost the immune response. That in turn can act to kill tumour cells. It’s a general ‘immunomodulatory’ effect. Dalgleish describes it as “rather like depth-charging the immune system which has been sent to sleep”. Well, giving it a prod at least.

bugs-pic

Inactivating bugs (bacteria) and waking up the immune system.

And a promising effect

The Anglo-Spanish effort used IMM-101 (a heat-killed suspension of a bacterium called Mycobacterium obuense) injected under the skin, which has no significant side-effects. The trial was carried out in patients with advanced pancreatic cancer, a disease with dismal prognosis, and IMM-101 immunotherapy was combined with the standard chemotherapy drug (gemcitabine). IMM-101increased survival from a median of 4.4 months to 7 months with some patients living for more than a year and one for nearly three years.

Although the trial numbers are small as yet, this is a very exciting advance because it looks as though immunotherapy may be able to control one of the most serious of cancers in which its incidence nearly matches its mortality.

References

Dalgleish, A. et al. (2016). Randomised, open-label, phase II study of gemcitabine with and without IMM-101 for advanced pancreatic cancer. British Journal of Cancer doi: 10.1038/bjc.2016.271.

 

Outsourcing the Immune Response

We’re very trendy in these pages, for no other reason than that the idea is to keep up to date with exciting events in cancer biology. Accordingly, we have recently talked quite a lot about the emerging field of cancer immunotherapy – the notion that our in-built immune system will try to kill cancer cells as they emerge, because it ‘sees’ them as being to some extent ‘foreign’, but that when tumours make their presence known it has not been able to do the job completely. The idea of immunotherapy is to give our in-house system a helping hand and we’ve seen some of the approaches in Self Help – Part 2 and Gosh! Wonderful GOSH.

The immune see-saw

Our immune system walks a tight-rope: on the one hand it should attack and eliminate any ‘foreign’ cells it sees (so that we aren’t killed by infections) but, on the other, if it’s too efficient it will start destroying out own cells (which is what happens in auto-immune diseases such as Graves disease (overactive thyroid gland) and rheumatoid arthritis.

Like much of our biology, then, it’s a tug-of-war: to kill or to ignore? And, like the cell cycle that determines whether a cell should grow and divide to make two cells, it’s controlled by the balance between ‘accelerators’ and ‘brakes’. The main targets for anti-tumour immune activity are mutated proteins that appear on the surface of cancer cells – called neo-antigens (see The Shape of Things to Come?)

The aim of immunotherapy then is to boost tumour responses by disabling the ‘brakes’. And it’s had some startling successes with patients going into long-term remission. So the basic idea works but there’s a problem: generally immunotherapy doesn’t work and, so far, in only about one in ten of patients have there been significant effects.

Sub-contracting to soup-up detection

Until now it’s seemed that only a very small fraction of expressed neo-antigens (less than 1%) can turn on an immune response in cancer patients. In an exciting new take on this problem, a team of researchers from the universities of Oslo and Copenhagen have asked: “if someone’s immune cells aren’t up to recognizing and fighting their tumours (i.e. ‘seeing’ neo-antigens), could someone else’s help?” It turns out that many more than 1 in 100 neo-antigens are able to cause an immune response. Even more exciting (and surprising), immune cells (T cells) from healthy donors can react to these neo-antigens and, in vitro at least (i.e. in cells grown in the laboratory), can kill tumour cells.

118. pic

Genetic modification of blood lymphocytes

T cells are isolated from a blood sample and novel genes inserted into their DNA. The engineered T cells are expanded and then infused into the patient. In the latest development T cells from healthy donors are screened for reactivity against neo-antigens expressed in a patient’s melanoma. T cell receptors that  recognise neo-antigens are sequenced and then transferred to the patient’s T cells.

How does that work?

T cells (lymphocytes) circulating in the blood act, in effect, as scouts, scanning the surface of all cells, including cancer cells, for the presence of any protein fragments on their surface that should not be there. The first contact with such foreign protein fragments switches on a process called priming that ultimately enables T cells to kill the aberrant cells (see Invisible Army Rouses Home Guard).

What the Scandinavian group did was to screen healthy individuals for tissue compatibility with a group of cancer patients. They then identified a set of 57 neo-antigens from three melanoma patients and showed that 11 of the 57 could stimulate responses in T cells from the healthy donors (T cells from the patients only reacted to two neo-antigens). Indeed the neo-antigen-specific T cells from healthy donors could kill melanoma cells carrying the corresponding mutated protein.

What can possibly go wrong?

The obvious question is, of course, how come cells from healthy folk have a broader reactivity to neo-antigens than do the cells of melanoma patients? The answer isn’t clear but presumably either cancers can make T cell priming inefficient or T cells become tolerant to tumours (i.e. they see them as ‘self’ rather than ‘non-self’).

And the future?

The more critical question is whether the problem can be short-circuited and Erlend Strønen and friends set about this by showing that T cell receptors in donor cells that recognize neo-antigens can be sequenced and expressed in the T cells of patients. This offers the possibility of a further type of adoptive cell transfer immunotherapy to the one we described in Gosh! Wonderful GOSH.

https://cancerforall.wordpress.com/2015/11/19/gosh-wonderful-gosh/

As one of the authors, Ton Schumacher, put it “Our findings show that the immune response in cancer patients can be strengthened; there is more on the cancer cells that makes them foreign that we can exploit. One way we consider doing this is finding the right donor T cells to match these neo-antigens. The receptor that is used by these donor T-cells can then be used to genetically modify the patient’s own T cells so these will be able to detect the cancer cells.”

And Johanna Olweus commented that “Our study shows that the principle of outsourcing cancer immunity to a donor is sound. However, more work needs to be done before patients can benefit from this discovery. Thus, we need to find ways to enhance the throughput. We are currently exploring high-throughput methods to identify the neo-antigens that the T cells can “see” on the cancer and isolate the responding cells. But the results showing that we can obtain cancer-specific immunity from the blood of healthy individuals are already very promising.”

References

Strønen, M. Toebes, S. Kelderman, M. M. van Buuren, W. Yang, N. van Rooij, M. Donia, M.-L. Boschen, F. Lund-Johansen, J. Olweus, T. N. Schumacher. Targeting of cancer neoantigens with donor-derived T cell receptor repertoires. Science, 2016.

“Fighting cancer with the help of someone else’s immune cells.” ScienceDaily. ScienceDaily, 19 May 2016.

The Shape of Things to Come?

One of the problems of trying to keep up with cancer – and indeed helping others to do so – is that you (i.e. ‘I’) get really irritated with the gentlemen and ladies of the press for going over the top in their efforts to cover science. I have therefore been forced to have a few rants about this in the past – actually, when I came to take stock, even I was a bit shocked at how many. Heading the field were Not Another Great Cancer Breakthough, Put A Cap On It and Gentlemen… For Goodness Sake. And not all of these were provoked by The Daily Telegraph!

If any of the responsible reporters read this blog they probably write me off as auditioning for the Grumpy Old Men tv series. But at least one authoritative voice says I’m really very sane and balanced (OK, it’s mine). Evidence? The other day I spotted the dreaded G word (groundbreaking) closely juxtaposed to poor old Achilles’ heel – and yes, it was in the Telegraph – but, when I got round to reading the paper, I had to admit that the work referred to was pretty stunning. Although, let’s be clear, such verbiage should still be banned.

A Tumour Tour de Force

The paper concerned was published in the leading journal Science by Nicholas McGranahan, Charles Swanton and colleagues from University College London and Cancer Research UK. It described a remarkable concentration of current molecular fire-power to dissect the fine detail of what’s going on in solid tumours. They focused on lung cancers and the key steps used to paint the picture were as follows:

1. DNA sequencing to identify mutations that produced new proteins in tumour cells (called tumour-associated antigens or ‘neoantigens’ – meaning molecular flags on the cell surface that can provoke an immune response – i.e. the host makes antibody proteins that react with (stick to) the antigens). Typically they found just over 300 of these ‘neoantigens’ per tumour – a reflection of the genetic mayhem that occurs in cancer.

2 tumoursVariation in neoantigen profile between two multi-region sequenced non-small cell lung tumours. There were approximately 400 (left) and 300 (right) neoantigens/tumour

  • Blue: proportion of clonal neoantigens found in every tumour region.
  • Yellow: subclonal neoantigens shared in multiple but not all tumour regions.
  • Red: subclonal (‘private’) neoantigens found in only one tumour region.
  • The left hand tumour (mostly blue, thus highly clonal) responded well to immunotherapy (from McGranahan et al. 2016).

2. Screening the set of genes that regulate the immune system – that is, make proteins that detect which cells belong to our body and which are ‘foreign.’ This is the human leukocyte antigen (HLA) system that is used to match donors for transplants – called HLA typing.

3. Isolating specialised immune cells (T lymphocytes) from samples of two patients with lung cancer, growing them in the lab to expand the population and testing how good these tumour-infiltrating cells were at recognizing the abnormal proteins (neo-antigens) on cancer cells.

4. Detecting proteins released by different types of infiltrating T cells that regulate the immune response. These include so-called immune checkpoint molecules that limit the extent of the immune response. This showed that T cell subsets that were very good at recognizing neo-antigens – and thus killing cancer cells (they’re CD8+ T cells or ‘killer’ T cells) also made high levels of proteins that restrain the immune response (e.g., PD-1).

5. Showing that immunotherapy (using the antibody pembrolizumab that reacts with PD-1) could significantly extend survival of patients with advanced non-small cell lung cancer. We’ve already met this approach in Self-help Part 1.

The critical finding was that the complexity of the tumour (called the clonal architecture) determines the outcome. Durable benefit from this immunotherapy requires a high level of mutation but a restricted range of neo-antigens. Put another way, tumours that are highly clonal respond best because they have common molecular flags present on every tumour cell.

6. Using the same methods on some skin cancers (melanomas) with similar results.

What did this astonishing assembly of results tell us?

It’s the most detailed picture yet of what’s going on in individual cancers. As one of the authors, Charles Swanton, remarked “This is exciting. This opens up a way to look at individual patients’ tumours and profile all the antigen variations to figure out the best ways for treatments to work. This takes personalised medicine to its absolute limit where each patient would have a unique, bespoke treatment.”

He might have added that it’s going to take a bit of time and a lot of money. But as a demonstration of 21st century medical science it’s an absolute cracker!

References

McGranahan et al. Clonal neoantigens elicit T cell immunoreactivity and sensitivity to immune checkpoint blockade. Science 10.1126/science.aaf490 (2016).

 

Mutating into Gold

It’s probably just as well that few us are aware that the bodies we live in are a battlefield – the cells and molecules that make us are in constant strife to ensure our survival. The lid is lifted from time to time – when we get a cold or pick up some other infection and our immune response sorts it out but not without giving us a headache or a runny nose, just to let us know it’s on the job. By and large though, we plough our furrow in glorious ignorance.

Saving our cells

Perhaps the most important of all the running battles is to save our DNA – that is, to repair the damage continuously suffered by our genetic material so we can carry on. It’s an uphill struggle. The DNA in one of our cells can take up to a million hits every day – and the bombardment comes from every direction: from radiation, air pollution and carcinogens in some of the food we eat. And, of course, we don’t need to mention cigarette smoke.

Damaged chromosomes (blue arrows)

Damaged chromosomes    (blue arrows)

On top of all that cells have to make a new DNA copy every time they reproduce – and we do a lot of that: recall that you set sail on the journey of life as one single, fertilized egg cell and now look at you: a clump of ten trillion (1013) cells that, just to stay as you are, has to make one million new cells every second. What’s more some of your cells deliberately break their own DNA in a process called ‘gene shuffling’ that goes to make the finished product of your aforementioned immune system. The biochemical machinery that does these jobs is mighty efficient but nobody’s perfect – except, of course, for John Eales, Australia’s most successful rugby union captain, nicknamed “Nobody” because “Nobody’s perfect”. When the three thousand million base-pairs of DNA are stuck together for a new cell there’s a mistake about once in every million units added – but a kind of quality control check (mismatch repair) then fixes most of these, so that the overall error is about one in a thousand million. That’s one example of the nifty ways evolution has come up with to fix the damage suffered by our genetic material from all this replicating, assaulting and constructing.

Keeping the show on the road

The overall upshot of the repair machinery is that less than one mutation per day becomes fixed in our genomes – and thus passed on to succeeding generations of cells. The range of things that can damage DNA – and hence the different forms that damage can take – tells you that there must be several different repair systems and indeed we now know that about 200 genes and their protein products have a hand in some repair process or another. There’s so much to know that DNA damage and repair has its own data-base called, inevitably, REPAIRtoire. Much of what we know is, to a considerable extent, thanks to the labours of Tomas Lindahl, Paul Modrich and Aziz Sancar who have just been jointly awarded this year’s Nobel Prize in Chemistry. Because damage to DNA – aka mutations – drives the development of cancers you might suppose that in these pages we will have met these gentlemen before – and indeed we have, if not by name.

Tomas Lindahl Paul Modrich Aziz Sancar

Tomas Lindahl                      Paul Modrich                       Aziz Sancar

Winners of the 2015 Nobel Prize in Chemistry

Forty odd years ago much of the above would have bewildered cell biologists. Thirty years before then, in 1944, Oswald Avery, Colin MacLeod and Maclyn McCarty had shown for the first time that genes are composed of DNA, a finding confirmed in 1952 by Alfred Hershey and Martha Chase in a classic experiment using a virus that infects and replicates within a bacterium. But with the acceptance that, however improbable, our genetic material was indeed made of DNA there came the assumption that it must be very stable. After all, if it carried our most valuable possession then surely it had to be made of molecular granite, absolutely resistant to any kind of chemical change or degradation. Had the bewildered boffins been told that in the twenty-first century we would be sequencing woolly mammoth DNA from samples that are millions of years old they would have been confirmed in their view.

It was Tomas Lindahl in the early 1970s who demonstrated that, although DNA is indeed more stable than its close rello RNA (the intermediate in making proteins) it nevertheless decays quite rapidly under normal conditions – it’s only when sealed in permafrost or blobs of amber that it becomes frozen in time. Lindahl realized that for life based on DNA to have evolved there had to be repair systems that could sustain our genetic material in a functional state and he went on to resolve how one of these did it. Aziz Sancar has worked particularly on the circadian clock (discovering that CRY is a clock protein) and how cells repair ultraviolet radiation damage to DNA: people born with defects in this system develop skin cancer if they are exposed to sunlight. Paul Modrich has contributed mainly to our knowledge of mismatch repair.

Lindahl, Modrich, Sancar and their colleagues over many years haven’t come up with the philosopher’s stone – the chemists still can’t transmute base metals into gold without the aid of a particle accelerator. But what they have done is much more useful for mankind. Revealing the detail of how genome maintenance works has already lead to new cancer treatments and from this beginning will come greater benefits as time goes by. They should enjoy the proceeds of turning molecular knowledge if not to gold then into Swedish kronor (8 million of them) – for the rest of the world it’s a bargain.

References

Lindahl, T. (1993). Instability and decay of the primary structure of DNA. Nature 362, 709-715.

Yang YG, Lindahl T, Barnes DE. (2007). Trex1 exonuclease degrades ssDNA to prevent chronic checkpoint activation and autoimmune disease. Cell 131, 873-886.

Shao, H, Baitinger, C, Soderblom, EJ, Burdett, V, and Modrich, P. (2014). Hydrolytic function of Exo1 in mammalian mismatch repair. Nucleic Acids Research 42, 7104-7112.

Tan C, Liu Z, Li J, Guo X, Wang L, Sancar A, Zhong D. (2015). The molecular origin of high DNA-repair efficiency by photolyase. Nat Commun. 6, 7302.

Blowing Up Cancer

To adapt the saying of the sometime British Prime Minister Harold Wilson, a month is a long time in cancer research. {I know, you’ve forgotten – as well you might. He was PM from 1964 to 1970 and again from 1974 to 1976. His actual words were “A week is a long time in politics”}. When I started to write the foregoing Self Helps (Parts 1 & 2) I had absolutely no intention of mentioning the subject of today’s sermon – viral immunotherapy. But how times change and a recent report has hit the headlines – so here goes.

The reason for my reticence is that this is not a new field – far from it. Folk have been trying to target tumour cells with active viruses for twenty years but efforts have foundered to the extent that the new report is the first time in the western world that a phase III trial (when a drug or treatment is first tested on large groups of people) of cancer “virotherapy” has definitively shown benefit for patients with cancer, although a virus (H101) made by the Shanghai Sunway Biotech Co. was licensed in China in 2005 for the treatment of a range of cancers.

Hard bit already done

I appreciate that getting the hang of immunotherapy in the two Self Helps wasn’t a total doddle – but it was worth it, wasn’t it, bearing in mind we’re dealing with life and death here. My friend and correspondent Rachel Bown had to resort to her GCSE biology notes (since she met me I think she keeps them on the coffee table) but is now up to speed.

Fortunately this bit is pretty easy to follow – it’s just an extension of the viral jiggery-pokery we met in Self Help Part 2. There we saw that using ‘disabled’ viruses is a neat way of getting new genetic material into cells. The viruses have key bits of their genome (genetic material) knocked out – so they don’t have any nasty effects and don’t replicate (make more of themselves) once inside cells. Inserting new bits of DNA carrying a therapeutic gene turns them into a molecular delivery service.

Going viral

In virotherapy there’s one extra wrinkle: the viruses, though ‘disabled’, still retain the capacity to replicate – and this has two effects. First, more and more virus particles (virions) are made in an infected cell until eventually it can hold no more and it bursts. The cell is done for – but a secondary effect is that the newly-made virions spill out and drift off to infect other cells. This amplifies the effect of the initial injection of virus and, in principle, will continue as long as there are cells to infect.

A new tool

The virus used is herpes simplex (HSV-1) of the relatively harmless type that causes cold sores and, increasingly frequently, genital herpes. The reason for this choice is that sometimes, not very often, science gets lucky and Mother Nature comes up with a helping hand. For HSV-1 it was the completely unexpected discovery that when you knock out one of its genes the virus becomes much more effective at replicating in tumour cells than in normal cells. That’s a megagalactic plus because, in effect, it means the virus targets tumour cells, thereby overcoming one of the great barriers to cancer therapy. In this study another viral gene was also deleted, which increases the immune response against infected tumour cells.

All this cutting and pasting (aka genetic engineering) is explained in entertaining detail in Betrayed by Nature but for now all that matters is that you end up with a virus that:

  1. Gets into tumour cells much more efficiently than into normal cells,
  2. Makes the protein encoded by the therapeutic gene, and
  3. Replicates in the cells that take it up until eventually they are so full of new viruses they go pop.

The finished product, if you can get your tongue round it, goes by the name of talimogene laherparepvec, mercifully shortened by the authors to T-VEC (made by Amgen). So T-VEC mounts a two-pronged attack – what the military would call a pincer movement. Infected tumour cells are killed (they’re ‘lysed’ by viral overload) and the inserted gene makes a protein that soups up the immune response – called GM-CSF (granulocyte macrophage colony-stimulating factor). The name doesn’t matter: what’s important is that it’s a human signaling molecule that stimulates the immune system, the overall result being production of tumour-specific T cells.

Fig. 1 Viral Therapy

Virotherapy. Model of a virus (top). The knobs represent proteins that enable the virus to stick to cells. Below: sequence of injecting viruses that are taken up by tumour cells that eventually burst to release new virions that diffuse to infect other tumour cells.

And the results?

The phase III trial, led by Robert Andtbacka, Howard Kaufman and colleagues from Rutgers Cancer Institute of New Jersey, involved 64 research centres worldwide and 436 patients with aggressive, inoperable malignant melanoma who received either an injection of T-VEC or a control immunotherapy. Just over 16% of the T-VEC group showed a durable response of more than six months, compared with 2% given the control treatment. About 10% of the patients treated had “complete remission”, with no detectable cancer remaining – considered a cure if the patient is still cancer-free five years after diagnosis.

Maybe this time?

We started with Harold Wilson and it was in between his two spells in Number 10 that President Nixon declared his celebrated ‘War on Cancer’, aimed at bringing the major forms of the disease under control within a decade or two. It didn’t happen, as we might have guessed. Back in 1957 in The Black Cloud the astrophysicist Sir Fred Hoyle has the line ‘I cannot understand what makes scientists tick. They are always wrong and they always go on.’ To be fair, it was a science fiction novel and the statement clearly is only partly true. But it’s not far off and in cancer there’s been rather few of the media’s beloved ‘breakthroughs’ and a great deal of random shuffling together with, overall, some progress in specific areas. Along the bumpy highway there have, of course, been moments of high excitement when some development or other has briefly looked like the answer to a maiden’s prayer. But with time all of these have fallen, if not by the wayside, at least into their due place as yet another small step for man. The nearest to a “giant leap for mankind” has probably been coming up with the means to sequence DNA on an industrial scale that is now having a massive impact on the cancer game.

When Liza Minnelli (as Sally Bowles in Cabaret) sings Maybe this time your heart goes out to the poor thing, though your head knows it’ll all end in tears. But this time, maybe, just maybe, the advent of cancer immunotherapy in its various forms will turn out to be a new era. Let us fervently hope so but, even if it does, the results of this Phase III trial show that a long struggle lies ahead before treatments arrive that have most patients responding.

We began Self Help – Part 1 with the wonderful William Coley and there’s no better way to pause in this story than with his words – reminding us of a bygone age when the scientist’s hand could brandish an artistic pen and space-saving editors hadn’t been invented:

“While the results have not been as satisfactory as one who is seeking perfection could wish, … when it comes to the consideration of a new method of treatment for malignant tumours, we must not wonder that a profession with memories overburdened with a thousand and one much-vaunted remedies that have been tried and failed takes little interest in any new method and shows less inclination to examine into its merits. Cold indifference is all it can expect, and rightly too, until it has something beside novelty to offer in its favour.”

References

Mohr, I. and Gluzman, Y. (1996). A herpesvirus genetic element which affects translation in the absence of the viral GADD34 function. The EMBO Journal 15, 4759–66.

Andtbacka, R.H.I. et al. (2015). Talimogene Laherparepvec Improves Durable Response Rate in Patients With Advanced Melanoma. 10.1200/JCO.2014.58.3377

A Refresher from the BBC

Regular readers will probably feel they know all this stuff but if you’re interested in a spirited and wide-ranging conversation about cancer with the wonderful Jeremy Vine on his BBC Radio 2 show yesterday you can find it at:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03yn0jd about 1 hour 10 min from the beginning.

BBC Radio 4As ever, any arising thoughts, questions or comments appreciated – apart, of course, from the below the belt: “Judging by the photo it’s a good job it was radio not t.v.”

 

Scattering the Bad Seed

Cancers are very peculiar diseases. One of their fairly well-known oddities is that, by and large, it’s not the initial tumour that does the damage – rather that the vast majority of fatalities arise from its offshoots, secondary growths formed by cells escaping from the primary and spreading around the body, a diaspora called metastasis. That ‘vast majority’ is actually over 90% – so you might suppose most research effort would be focussed on how cells disseminate and what can be done to stop them in their tracks, whilst leaving the surgeons to deal with the primaries. But like many other things in life, logic plays a limited part in research strategy and to a great extent the boffins do what they fancy – or, to make it sound a bit more rigorous, what they feel is possible given the available tools. Which is perfectly reasonable: launching a project to build a radio would have been a bit perverse before Michael Faraday discovered electricity. In short, scientific research is all about practicalities – it’s what that great science communicator (and Nobel Prize winner) Peter Medawar called The Art of the Soluble.

Metastasis on the move

We recently recounted the emergence of the notion that cancers could spread around the body and how, by the end of the 19th century, this had led to the idea of ‘seed and soil’ – that cells cast off from primary tumours could drift around the circulation until they found somewhere congenial to drop anchor and set up a new home. That was in Keeping Cancer Catatonic and it was prompted by the fact that for rather more than 100 years metastasis seemed so difficult to get at, so impossible to model, there was virtually no progress and it is only now in the last few years that this critical cancer niche is once again on the move. The really exciting, and surprising, finding has been that, in mouse models, primary tumours dispatch chemical messengers into the blood stream long before any cells set sail. These protein news-bearers essentially tag a landing site within the circulatory system for the tumour cells to follow. And which sites are tagged depends on the type of tumour – consistent with the fact that human cancers show different preferences in metastatic targets.

A further twist is that even if tumour cells manage to follow this complicated guidance system and seed a new site, it’s not a disaster because their growth is suppressed by proteins released from nearby blood vessels. This presumably reflects the fact that tissues have systems to maintain the normal balance – to ensure that unusual things don’t happen – which means that everything is fine until that control is overwhelmed. When that happens other signals convert the dormant tumour into an expanding metastasis.

These very recent discoveries show that, at long last, our ignorance of how tumours spread is beginning to be chipped away and, because metastasis is the critical issue in cancer, this is a timely moment to do one of our crystal clear, simple summaries of what we know – which is relatively easy and will take much less time than if we reviewed our ignorance.

BOOKMARKING copy

Bookmarking cancer: Primary tumours mark sites around the body to which they will spread (metastasize) by sending out chemical signals that create sticky ‘landing sites’ (red protein A) on target cells. Cells released from the bone marrow carry proteins B and C. B attaches to A and tumour cells ‘land’ on C. Cells may remain quiescent in a new site for years or decades, their growth suppressed by signals (e.g., TSP-1) released from nearby blood vessels. Only when appropriate activating signals dominate (e.g., TGF beta) is secondary tumour growth switched on (see Keeping Cancer Catatonic for more details).

So what do we know?

Tumours arise from the accumulation of (essentially) random mutations and these drive the expansion of a family of cells to the point where they make their presence felt. From that, if the bearer is unlucky, emerges a sub-set of cells with the wanderlust. Cells in which the mutational hand they have acquired confer the ability to escape from the family bosom, chew through surrounding tissue, burrow into nearby blood vessels and thus voyage to distant places around the body. Some of these adventurous fellows may find landing sites where they can stick and, in effect, reverse their escape routine by squeezing through the vessel wall and chomping their way to a new niche in which to set up home. This process is sometimes called ‘colonization’ and it’s a pretty vivid description, evoking images of brave chaps taking on the elements to find a new world in which to prosper. The upshot is a malignant tumour.

I’m sorry for pulling a sciency trick back there by inserting ‘essentially’ – in brackets to persuade you to skim over it as if it was a mild hallucination. We’ll come back to the rivetting explanation of why I’d feel uncomfortable about just saying ‘random mutations’ another day but for the moment just stick with the idea that changes in DNA make cancers.

Tumour cells are not very bright

This sequence is so convoluted that it sounds like the product of some devilish mastermind but in fact we know that the metastatic cell is incapable of thought because otherwise it would have stayed at home. Metastasis is a process so inefficient that it’s almost always fatal for the cell that tries it. Tumour cells that get into the circulation may be damaged in the rush-hour scrum that is cellular life in the bloodstream and be gobbled up by scavenger cells. Even if they do finally squeeze through a space in the wall – feeling they’ve made it – they may have suffered so much stress they’re just not up to producing a family in a new environment that mayn’t be entirely welcoming. So even after reaching a new home they may not survive any longer or just manage to form a small cluster of cells that hang on as a ‘dormant’ tumour – an indolent little outpost that represents no threat to the carrier, even though it may persist for decades. So, despite metastasis being the most life-threatening facet of cancer, the odds are strongly weighted against escaping tumour cells: even after they’ve made it into the circulation, only about one in every ten thousand makes it to a compatible site where it forms an embryonic colony.

How does it kick off?

Given that tumours are products of evolution – albeit on the hugely accelerated time-scale of an individual lifetime rather than the geological frame within which new species emerge – you might suppose that metastases are merely a potent end-product. A tumour cell continues to pick up mutations until eventually it has the required toolkit to burrow and squeeze, float and drift, touch down  on sticky patches, squeeze and burrow again and eventually thrive in a new home. In the best traditions of cancer, however, it turns out not to be like that – at least, as far as is known, no set of mutations defines cells as having acquired the tools of the spreading trade. In short, there’s no ‘genetic signature’ that uniquely marks a metastatic cell. Nevertheless, they are different: only a fraction of primary tumour cells acquire the ability to spread – so if it isn’t simply by picking up an escape kit of changes in DNA, how do they do it?

Making an escape kit

One of the things that does mark metastatic cells is a change in the genes expressed compared to their relatives in the rest of the tumour. That is they alter the pattern of proteins that they make. This switch reorganises the cell’s shape and helps it to move and, most notably, includes enzymes released into the environment that cut a path for the cell to invade its local surroundings en route to the circulation.  As you might guess, this switch in protein production appears to be reversed once a cell has found a new niche. But if this transition into an invasive (i.e. malignant) cell isn’t driven by specific mutations, how does it come about?

The answer seems to lie in a subtle fine-tuning of cell behaviour, rather than dramatic changes caused by mutations in DNA. In other words, cells emerge from the morass of mutations within a tumour with critical signal systems that are just that little bit more active than those of their companions. It’s less a tall poppy syndrome than the odd blade of grass that’s missed the mower and can see a wider world. If this still seems a bit far-fetched, recall that every cell is unique: however identical two cells may be, there will be tiny differences in the signals that control their level of response.  The minuscule edge that can give one cell over another is enough. Given time, it will reproduce to make a clone with the gymnastic ability and stamina required to embark on the fraught experience of founding a metastatic colony.

Spreading variety

One of the fascinating things about cancer is that there seems to be no absolute rules. For every generalization there’s a renegade – a piece of molecular or cellular jiggery-pokery that does it in a different way, often in a breath-taking example of Nature’s flexibility. So it is with metastasis in that, as we noted, different cancers show widely variable behaviour.  Some major types have usually spread by the time they are detected (lung, pancreatic) whereas generally breast and prostate tumours have not. Some forms of brain tumour usually invade locally and are rarely found at distant sites whilst others often metastasize. Sometimes secondary growths are found when the primary source can’t de detected at all – so they’re ‘cancers of unknown primary’ and they’re not uncommon, coming in the top 10% of diagnoses.

Equally bemusing is the range of favoured targets for dissemination. Prostate cancer cells commonly home in on bone whereas bone and muscle tumours often spread to the lungs. Others, however, are much more promiscuous and go for multiple sites (e.g., triple-negative breast cancer, skin melanoma and tumours originating in the lung and kidney). We have little idea what’s behind this variability though it may be a combination of different circulation patterns, capacity to slip through vessel walls and how well-equipped the cell is to survive in new terrain.

Making friends with the neighbours

In Cooperative Cancer Groupies we talked about one of the most recent evolutions in cancer thinking – the notion that tumours are not just made up of clumps of abnormal cells but that their locale becomes flooded with a variety of normal cells as the host mounts first an inflammatory response and then attempts to kill off the intruder through its immune system. When this defence fails and the tumour begins to develop it has succeeded in corrupting the groupies in the microenvironment so that now they send out signals that actively promote tumour growth. This type of local support is similarly critical in determining whether metastases take root, so to speak. Moreover, variation in the precise signals from normal cells between different tissues contributes to target preference for malignant cells.

Not like you see on t.v.

In the currently popular Danish political drama television series called Borgen there’s a scene in which a tabloid newspaper editor is offered a piece by a reputable journalist about the European Union that he rejects. “Don’t try to give me a story about the EU: it’s not sexy and it’s too complicated for our readers to understand.” We will have no truck with such patronising here, despite the fact that nobody ever accused metastasis of being sexy. Moreover, as no one ‘understands’ it, we take the view that we’re all in this together and, because it’s infinitely more important and fascinating than political stories, we have belaboured you with the foregoing! Just to make sure that the little we do know is clear, let us summarise in nine (more or less) one-liners:

  1. Tumor cells signal to potential secondary sites.
  2. They escape, burrow, circulate, lodge at landing sites and colonize.
  3. They change the pattern of proteins they make to permit escape.
  4. They change the pattern again when they colonize.
  5. No genetic signature (set of mutations) is known that indicates capacity to metastasize.
  6. The process is very inefficient – i.e. most tumor cells never form a colony.
  7. Despite the low success rate, metastasis is responsible for >90% of cancer deaths.
  8. Once colonization starts at secondary site, tumor cells recruit help from adjacent normal cells (as they do in primary tumors).
  9. Normal cells can also colonize – that is, non-tumour cells injected into the bloodstream of mice have been shown to form colonies in the lungs. 

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This beautiful picture taken by Bettina Weigelin and Peter Friedl, UMC St Radboud Nijmegen, shows the remarkable plasticity of cells. The tumour cells (green) are invading normal mouse skin (orange) that also contains nerve fibers (blue) and collagen (grey). Cells may invade singly or as clusters. Their flexibility in wiggling through skin is similar to what happens when they cross the walls of blood vessels. http://www.cell.com/Cell_Picture_Show

Perhaps the most surprising item is the one we slipped in at Number 9 – that metastasis, or at least the capacity to colonize secondary sites, is not an exclusively property of some tumour cells but that normal cells can do it too. For sure we assume tumour cells are better at it – not least because they can send out advance signals giving them a better chance of a happy landing. And, of course, once a colony has been founded, tumour cells already carry mutated genes that can act as ‘drivers’ for further expansion of the secondary growth. Even so, the fact that normal cells can pass from the blood to a niche in lung tissue shows that colony foundation is not a unique property of tumour cells. Lung colonization by normal cells may be down to mechanics. Your lungs, which of course fit inside your chest, resemble a sponge – a mass of fine tubes linked to 300 million air sacs (called alveoli): spread them out and they’d cover a tennis court. The alveoli are surrounded by the most intricate network of blood vessels (called capillaries) and it is here that oxygen is transferred to blood. The fine capillaries may simply be a very effective trap – cells may become stuck without the requirement for any specific markers.

And the outlook?

We have therefore a dim picture of what is involved in metastasis but the presumption is that it may rapidly brighten. It’s not hard to see why metastasis is the culprit in the overwhelming majority of cancer deaths. By spreading to new sites cancers increase enormously the difficulty of detecting them, they become almost impossible to treat by surgery and the only strategy remaining is to use drugs (chemotherapy). Currently there are hardly any treatment options available for tumours that have metastasized and even when drugs do work their effects are short lived and tumours recur. The unveiling of every new facet of the amazing puzzle that is metastasis refines our thinking about the problem and carries with it the possibility of new targets and strategies for its blockade. The end is nowhere in sight but we are, at long last, making a significant beginning.

References

Ghajar, C.M. et al. (2013). The perivascular niche regulates breast tumour dormancy. Nature Cell Biology 15, 807–817.

Brabletz, T., Lyden, D., Steeg, P.S. and Werb, Z. (2013). Roadblocks to translational advances on metastasis research. Nature Medicine 19, 1104-1109.

Keeping Cancer Catatonic

Over a century ago there lived in London an astute physician by the name of Stephen Paget. He was one of those who may or may not be envied in being part of a super-talented family. His Dad, Sir James Paget, was pals with Charles Darwin and, together with Rudolph Virchow, laid the foundations of modern pathology, though today medical students usually encounter his infinitesimal immortality through several diseases that bear his name. These include a rare condition, Paget’s disease of the breast, in which malignant cells form in the skin of the nipple creating an itchy rash, usually treatable by surgery. His Uncle George had been Regius Professor of Physic at Cambridge and he had several brothers, two of whom became bishops. Fortunately Stephen continued the medical thread of the family and Paget’s passion became breast cancer.

A Key Question

Paget had that invaluable scientific gift of being able to pinpoint a key question – in his case ‘What is it that allows tumour cells to spread around the body?’ – and it was such a good question that to this day we don’t have a complete answer. That it happens had been known long before the appearance of Paget Junior. René-Théophile-Hyacinthe Laënnec, French of course, in the early years of the 19th century described how skin cancer could spread to the lungs before he went on to invent the stethoscope in 1816. The mother of this invention was a young lady whom he described as having a ‘great degree of fatness’ that made her heartbeat inaudible by the then conventional method of placing ear to chest. Using a piece of paper rolled into a tube as a bridge, Laënnec was somewhat taken aback that the beat was more distinct than he’d ever heard before. Needless to say, medicine being a somewhat reactionary profession, not all its practitioners had ears tuned to receive this advance with glee but in the end, of course, it caught on and we can therefore award Laënnec first prize in reducing human cumulative embarrassment. It was another French surgeon, Joseph Récamier, who subsequently coined the term metastasis, (to be precise ‘métastase’) to describe the formation of secondary growths derived from a primary tumour.

Early Ideas about Metastasis

The notion that primary tumours could give rise to a diaspora gradually took root but it was not until 1840 that the Munich-born surgeon Karl Thiersch showed that it was actually cells – malignant cells – that wandered off and found new homes. Rudolf Virchow had come up with the idea that spreading was via a ‘juice’ released by primaries that somehow converted normal cells at other sites into tumours. As Virchow was jolly famous, having not only made the study of disease into a science but also discovered leukemia, it took a while for Thiersch to triumph, notwithstanding the evidence of Laënnec and others. Funnily enough, and as quite often happens in scientific arguments, it now looks as though both were right if for ‘juice’ you substitute ‘messengers’ – that is, chemicals dispatched by tumour cells – as we shall see.

Paget’s attention had been drawn to this subject through his observations on breast cancer, and he’d taking as a starting point the most obvious question: ‘How do tumour cells know where to stick?’ Or, as he elegantly phrased it in a landmark paper of 1889: ‘What is it that decides what organs shall suffer in a case of disseminated cancer?’ The simplest answer would be that it just depends on anatomy: when cells leave a tumour and get into the circulation they stick to the first tissue they meet. But in looking at over 700 cases he’d found this just didn’t happen and that secondary growths often appeared in the lungs, kidneys, spleen and bone. Paget acknowledged the uncommonly prescient suggestion a few years earlier by Ernst Fuchs that certain organs may be ‘predisposed’ for secondary cancer and concluded that ‘the distribution of secondary growths was not a matter of chance.’ This led him to a botanical analogy for tumour metastasis: ‘When a plant goes to seed, its seeds are carried in all directions; but they can only live and grow if they fall on congenial soil.’ From this, then, emerged the ‘seed and soil’ theory of metastasis, its great strength being the image of interplay between tumour cells and normal cells, their actions collectively determining the outcome. Rather charmingly, Paget concluded his paper with: ‘The best work in the pathology of cancer is now done by those who are studying the nature of the seed. They are like scientific botanists; and he who turns over the records of cases of cancer is only a ploughman, but his observation of the properties of the soil may also be useful.’

BOOKMARKING

Bookmarking cancer: Primary tumours mark sites around the body to which they will spread (metastasize) by sending out chemical signals that create sticky ‘landing sites’ (red protein A) on target cells. Cells released from the bone marrow carry proteins B and C. B attaches to A and tumour cells ‘land’ on C. Cells may remain quiescent in a new site for years or decades, their growth suppressed by signals (e.g., TSP-1) released from nearby blood vessels. Only when appropriate activating signals dominate (e.g., TGFbeta) is secondary tumour growth switched on.

Finding a Landing Strip

For well over a century Paget’s aphorism of  ‘seed and soil’ pretty well summed up our knowledge of metastasis. It’s obvious that before any rational therapy can be designed we need to unravel the molecular detail but we’ve had to wait until the twenty-first century for any further significant insight into the process. As so often in science, the hold-up has been largely due to waiting for the appropriate combination of methods to be developed – in this case fluorescently tagged antibodies to detect specific proteins in cells and tissues and genetically modified mice.

In the forefront of this pursuit has been David Lyden and his colleagues at Weill Cornell Medical College and other centers and their most extraordinary finding is that cells in the primary tumour release proteins into the circulation and these, in effect, tag what will become landing points for wandering cells. Extraordinary because it means that these sites are determined before any tumour cells actually set foot outside the confines of the primary tumour. These are chemical messengers rather equivalent to Virchow’s ‘juice’: they don’t change normal cells into tumour cells but they do direct operations. However, it’s a bit more complicated because, in addition to sending out a target marker, tumours also release proteins that signal to the bone marrow. This is the place where the cells that circulate in our bodies (red cells, white cells, etc.) are made from stem cells. The arrival of signals from the tumour causes some cells to be released into the circulation; these carry two protein markers on their surface: one sticks to the pre-marked landing site, the other to tumour cells once they appear in the circulation. It’s a double-tagging process: the first messenger makes a sticky patch for bone marrow cells that appear courtesy of another messenger, and they become the tumour cell target. It’s molecular Velcro: David Lyden calls it ‘cellular bookmarking.’

Controlling Metastatic Takeoff

Tumour cells that find a new home in this way, after they’ve burrowed out of the circulation, could in principle then take off, growing and expanding as a ‘secondary.’ However, and perhaps surprisingly, generally they do the exact opposite: they go into a state of hibernation, remaining dormant for months or years until some trigger finally sets them off. The same group has now modeled this ‘pre-metastatic niche’ for human breast cancer cells, showing that the switch between dormancy and take-off is controlled by proteins released by nearby blood vessels. The critical protein that locks tumour cells into hibernation appears to be TSP-1 (thrombospondin-1). As long as TSP-1 is made by the blood vessel cells metastatic growth is suppressed. This effect is overridden by stimuli that turn on new vessel growth and in so doing switch secretion from TSP-1 to TGFB (transforming growth factor beta). Now proliferation of the disseminated tumour cells is activated and the micro-metastasis becomes fully malignant. It should be said that this is a model system and may possibly bear little relation to what goes on in real tumours. However, the fact that specific proteins that are, moreover, highly plausible candidates, can control such a switch strongly suggests its relevance and also highlights potential targets for therapeutic manipulation.

Stranger Than Fiction

The system for directing tumour cells to a target seems extraordinarily elaborate. Given that tumour cells cannot evolve in the sense of getting better at being metastatic – they just have to go with what they’ve got – how on earth might it have come about? We don’t know, but the most likely explanation is that they are taking advantage of natural defense mechanisms. Although tumours start from normal cells, the first reaction of the body is to see them as ‘foreign’ – much as it does bugs that get into a cut – and the response is to switch on inflammation and an immune response to eliminate the ‘invader.’

Perhaps what is happening in these mouse models is that the proteins released by the tumour cells are just a by-product of the genetic disruption in cancer cells. Nevertheless, they may signal ‘damage somewhere in the body’. That at least would explain why the bone marrow decides to release cells that are, in effect, a response to the tumour. The second question is trickier: Why should tumours release proteins that mark specific sites? We’ve known since Dr. P’s studies that cells from different tumours do indeed head for different places and it may just be that the messengers arising in the genetic mayhem happen to reflect the tissue of origin. The mouse models, encouragingly, show that the target changes with tumour type (e.g., swap from breast to skin and the cells go somewhere else). In other words, tumours send out their own protein messengers that set up sticky landing strips in different places around the circulation.

As for take-off, it may be that newly arrived tumour cells simply adapt to the style of their neighborhood. By and large, the blood vessels are pretty static structures: they don’t go in for cell proliferation unless told to do so by specific signals, as happens when you get injured and need to repair the damage. TSP-1 appears to be a ‘quiescence’ signal, telling cells to sit tight. The switch to proliferation comes when that signal is overcome by TGFB, activating both blood vessels and tumour. All of which would delight Paget: not only is our expanding picture consistent with ‘seed and soil’ but the control by local signals over what happens next makes his rider that ‘observation of the properties of the soil may also be useful’ spot on.

References

Kaplan, R.N., Riba, R.D., Zacharoulis, S., Bramley, A.H., Vincent, L., Costa, C., MacDonald, D.D., Jin, D.K., Shido, K., Kerns, S.A., Zhu, Z., Hicklin, D., Wu, Y., Port, J.L., Altork, N., Port, E.R., Ruggero, D., Shmelkov, S.V., Jensen, K.K., Rafii, S. and Lyden, D. (2005). VEGFR1-positive haematopoietic bone marrow progenitors initiate the pre-metastatic niche. Nature 438, 820-827.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/16341007

Ghajar, C.M. et al. (2013). The perivascular niche regulates breast tumour dormancy. Nature Cell Biology 15, 807–817.

http://www.readcube.com/articles/10.1038/ncb2767