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.

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Twenty more winks

In Episode One we alerted ourselves to the large amount of evidence saying that a good night’s sleep really is essential if you wish to reduce your chances of a wide variety of medical misfortunes. But what do we know about how molecules respond to sleep disruption to produce such nasty effects?

Molecular Clocks

Life on earth depends on energy sent forth by the sun and, in synchrony with the rotation of our planet, many of the inner workings of mammals fluctuate over each period of roughly 24 hours. This pattern is called the circadian clock, its most obvious manifestation being the sleep-wake cycle. Over the years considerable evidence has accumulated that the link between shift-work and cancer is probably due to circadian rhythm disruption and suppression of nocturnal production of a hormone called melatonin. All living things make melatonin (in mammals in the pineal gland of the brain) and it signals through a variety of protein receptors on cells to regulate the sleep-wake cycle but it also plays a role in protecting DNA from damage.

Melatonin production is regulated by the circadian oscillator, itself controlled by two sets of proteins that control each other’s expression in a feedback loop. Thus one pair, CLOCK and BMAL1, activates Cryptochrome and Period. They in turn repress CLOCK and BMAL1 – the upshot being that the activities of both pairs oscillate over a day-night cycle: as one goes up the other comes down. These central regulators are encoded by evolutionarily ancient genes (two for Cryptochromes and three for Period proteins). In plants and insects CRY1 responds to light but in mammals CRY1 and CRY2 work independently of light to inhibit BMAL1-CLOCK.

Two interlocked feedback loops control clock protein expression

CRY-CLOCK

OUTCOME: ≈ 24 hour cycle expression of PER & CRY

BMAL1 & CLOCK 12 hours out of phase

Alarming the Clock

So having sounded the alarm that just one night’s sleep shortage has obvious effects, what do the genes make of it? Well, the short answer is they get upset. A recent study took blood samples from a group of normal people and found that more than 700 genes (about 3% of our total number) significantly changed their level of expression over 1 week of insufficient sleep (5.7 h) by comparison with 1 week of sufficient sleep (8.5 h). About two-thirds were reduced whilst one-third was up-regulated (made more of their protein product). Unsurprisingly, among those that went down were the major clock regulators. It’s worth noting that the sleep perturbation in this experiment was relatively mild – intended to be similar to that experienced by many individuals. The genes most strongly affected play roles in a wide range of biological processes – DNA structure (hence gene expression), metabolism, stress responses and inflammation. The responses of genes to changes in sleep patterns are not the result of mutation (i.e. changes in the sequence of DNA)  but, at least in part, they’re caused by small changes in the structure of DNA. {These are epigenetic modifications – any modification of DNA, other than in the sequence of bases, that affects how an organism develops or functions. They’re brought about by tacking small chemical groups either on to some of the bases in DNA itself or on to the proteins (histones) that act like cotton reels around which DNA wraps itself}. Thus there is evidence for gene silencing by hyper-methylation of CRY2 (adding methyl groups (CH3) to its DNA) and the converse effect of hypo-methylation (removing methyl groups) of CLOCK occurs in women engaged in long-term shift work and is associated with an increased risk of breast cancer.

Inflaming the Problem

The cells that mediate inflammation and immune responses also have circadian clocks – meaning that normally these processes are rhythmically controlled and clock disruption (for example by sleep loss) affects this pattern. Disabling the clock in mice (by knocking out CRY altogether) switches on the release of pro-inflammatory messengers and knocking out one of the Period genes (PER2) makes mice cancer-prone – reflecting the fact that MYC (the key proliferation driver) is directly controlled by circadian regulators and is consistently elevated in the absence of PER2.

Clock Faces

The mass that comprises a tumour is a mixture of cells – cancer cells and normal cells attracted to the locale – so it’s a quite abnormal environment and in particular there may be regions where the supply of oxygen and nutrients is limited. This is sensed as a stress by the cells, one response being to lower protein production until normal conditions are restored. If this doesn’t happen within a given time the response switches to one leading to cell suicide. One way in which overall protein output can be reduced is by activating an enzyme (IRE1α) that breaks down code-carrying messenger RNAs that direct assembly of new proteins. Remarkably, it has emerged that one of the mRNAs targetted by IRE1α is the core circadian clock gene, PER1. The degradation of PER1 mRNA means that less PER1 protein is made, which in turn disrupts the clock. However, it seems that PER1 has other roles that include helping the cell suicide response – a major anti-cancer defence. All of which suggests that disruption of the IRE1α/ PER1 balance might have serious consequences. Indeed IRE1α mutations have been found in a variety of cancers including brain tumours in which low levels of PER1 are an indicator of poor prognosis. The IRE1α mechanism coincidentally activates the transcription factor XBP1 (as well as PER1 mRNA decay) and one target of XBP1 is the gene encoding a messenger (CXCL3) that makes blood vessels sprout offshoots. Thus this master regulator suppresses cell death, activates proliferation (lowering PER1 deregulates MYC) and promotes new blood vessel formation.

A Tip for Snoozing

If you’re still wide awake it just goes to prove the utter fascination of biology – but today’s story says that you have to find ways of, if not falling asleep, at least courting insensibility (as Christopher Fry put it). If it’s a real problem for you may I make a really radical suggestion? Turn to our physicist friends and select from their recent literary avalanche. A ‘brief history of …’ something or other will do fine. It’s a knock-out! Sweet dreams!!

References

Möller-Levet, C.S., Archer, S.N., Bucca, G., Laing, E.E., Slak, A., Kabiljo, R., Lo, J.C.Y., Santhi, N., von Schantz, M., Smith, C.P. and Dijk, D.-J. (2013). Effects of insufficient sleep on circadian rhythmicity and expression amplitude of the human blood transcriptome. PNAS 110, E1132-E1141.

Fu, L.N. et al. (2002). The circadian gene Period2 plays an important role in tumor suppression and DNA damage response in vivo. Cell 111, 41-50.

Zhu, Y. et al. (2011). Epigenetic impact of long-term shiftwork: pilot evidence from circadian genes and whole-genome methylation analysis. Chronobiol Int, 28, 852–861.

Pluquet, O. et al. (2013). Posttranscriptional Regulation of PER1 Underlies the Oncogenic Function of IREα. Cancer Res., 73, 4732-4743.

Cooperative Cancer Groupies

Few words carry more impact than the gentle syllables of cancer. Transform it into any language, its effect is unchanged: cancer, cancro, Krebs, рак … Always that inner tightening as we prepare ourselves for something we’d prefer not to hear. And yet, and yet … like so much of life there is an obverse – more than one in fact. Down the years few things have revealed more of the greatness of the human spirit – the fortitude, resilience and compassion of which mankind is capable. And it’s also a wonderful thing because, whatever its downsides, without cancer we would know far less about the amazing flexibility and adaptability of nature. Endless beautiful examples have been teased from its mysteries by inquisitive, curious and sometimes plain lucky scientific detectives.

Of late a particularly fertile facet has been what one might call the supporting cast: not tumour cells themselves but families that have moved in next door. If the idea that both normal and abnormal may play a role seems a bit strange, recall that, as well as being wonderful, cancer’s also funny – peculiar, that is – in being generated within ourselves: something goes wrong with cells that are perfectly normal and the result is something unusual. A new growth. A neoplasm. And our body reacts as it almost always does when something odd happens: it sends reporters along to find out what’s happening and put a stop to it. These roving sleuths are cells of the immune system – collectively white cells.

As with almost any unusual event – a new kid in school, a spotted celeb, a traffic accident – a crowd has started to gather round. In the body it’s called inflammation and it’s the first sign that our immune response is being switched on. The cellular groupies that turn up at the earliest signs of a tumour are a motley lot: all the broadsheets and tabloids are there, so to speak. But they differ from human onlookers in that each has a job to do. The first response is that some of the groupies release chemical signals that can target tumour cells for destruction by other groupies. The tumour is seen as ‘foreign’, just like an infection, and the response is ‘get rid of it’. We have no idea how efficient this kind of tumour elimination is but we might guess it’s not bad as most cancers don’t appear until we’ve been around for over 60 years.

When a tumour does manage to grow to a detectable size, that protection has clearly been overcome. But astonishingly, when this happens it’s not merely that the anti-tumour armoury has failed. It’s worse than not having enough fire-power: it’s actually been subverted, perverted if you wish, ‘turned’ as John le Carré might say, so that the immune cells that set out as assassins have become genuine groupies. Now the chemical signals they throw onto the tumour stage support growth and protect the cancer cells from destruction. Normal cells, recruited to the scene of cellular abnormality, have become in effect part of the tumour, essential for its survival and continued growth.

A stunning example of the tumour cooperative happens in chronic lymphocytic leukaemia. The leukaemia cells are a typical tumour in that their metabolism is abnormal. One upshot of this is that they make a lot of very reactive things called free radicals that are toxic – that is, will kill the leukemia cells unless they can make a neutralizing chemical called A. But to make A they need a building block B. B needs a carrier to get across the outer membrane into cells and the leukemia cells don’t make that carrier. But one of the ‘groupies’ does: it takes up lots of B, turns it into C and then pumps that out so that the tumour cells are bathed in C – which they can take up. The leukemia cells convert C into B, then make A, which knocks out their free radicals – so they survive and the tumour grows. If you can describe a thriving tumour as wonderful, it’s jaw-droppingly clever. And it’s not all bad news because blocking the transfer of C offers a new drug target for treating the most common adult leukemia in the Western world.

Reference

Zhang, W. et al., (2012). Stromal control of cystine metabolism promotes cancer cell survival in chronic lymphocytic leukaemia. Nature Cell Biology 14, 276-286.

Obesity and Cancer

Science, you could say, comes in two sorts. There’s the stuff we more or less understand – and there’s the rest. We’re pretty secure with the earth being round and orbiting the sun, the heart being a pump connected to a network of tubes that keeps us alive, DNA carrying the genetic code – and a few other things. But human beings are curious souls and we tend to be fascinated by what we don’t know and can’t see – why the Dance of the Seven Veils caught on, I guess.

Scientists are, of course, the extreme example – they spend their lives pursuing the unknown (and, as Fred Hoyle gloomily remarked, they’re always wrong and yet they always go on). But in this media era they pay a public price for their doggedness because they get asked the pressing questions of the moment. Is global warning going to finish us off soon, why is British sport generally so poor and – today’s teaser – does being fat make you more likely to get cancer?

A few facts go a long way

The major cancers have become familiar because the numbers afflicted are so staggering – but the one good thing is that the epidemiology can tell us something about the disease. Thus for cancers of the bowel, endometrium, kidney, oesophagus and pancreas and also for postmenopausal breast cancer there is clear evidence that being overweight or obese makes you more susceptible. In other words, if you compare large groups with those cancers to equally large numbers without, the disease groups contain significantly more people who are fat. We should add that the above list is conservative. A number of other cancers are almost certainly more common in those who are overweight (brain, thyroid, liver, ovary, prostate and stomach tumours as well as multiple myeloma, leukaemia, non-Hodgkin lymphoma and malignant melanoma in men).

Sizing up the problem

The usual measure is Body Mass Index (BMI) – your weight (in kilograms) divided by the square of your height (in metres). A BMI of 25 to 29.9 and you’re overweight; over 30 is obese. In England in 2009 just over 61% of adults and 28% of children (aged 2-10) were overweight or obese and of these, 23% of adults and 14% of children were obese. And every year these figures get bigger.

How big is the risk?

Impossible to say exactly – for one thing we don’t know how long you need to be exposed to the risk (i.e. being overweight) for cancer to develop but in 2010 just over 5% of the total of new cancer cases in the UK was due to excess weight. That’s another conservative estimate, but it means at least 17,000 out of 309,000 cases, with bowel and breast cancers being the major sites.

What’s going on?

Showing an association is a good start but the important thing is to find out which molecules make that link. For obesity and cancer detail remains obscure but broad outlines are emerging, summarised in the sketch. In obesity fat (adipose) cells increase in both number and size (so it’s a double problem: more cells – and the fat cells themselves are fatter). As this happens other cells are recruited to adipose tissue and, from this cellular cooperative, signalling proteins are released that have the potential to drive tumours. This picture is similar to that of the microenvironment of tumours themselves, where many types of cell infiltrate the new growth. Initially this inflammatory and immune response aims to kill the tumour but if it fails the balance of signalling shifts so that it actually helps the tumour grow. In addition to signals from fat cells themselves, obesity is usually associated with increased levels of circulating growth hormones (e.g., insulin) and of lipids, both of which may also promote tumour development.

Thus many signals with cancerous potential arise in obese individuals. In principle these could initiate tumour growth or they could accelerate it in cancers that have started to develop independently of obesity. So it is complicated – but at least as new signalling strands emerge they offer new targets for drug therapy.

In obesity abnormal signals from fatty tissue can combine with others arising from perturbed metabolism to help cancers develop

Reference

World Cancer Research Fund (WCRF) Panel on Food, Nutrition, Physical Activity, and the Prevention of Cancer (WCRF, 2007).