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Here's why this boy has a kidney that's 3 times older than he is.

"He's a success, even with all his side effects. He's a success, because he's still here."

Here's why this boy has a kidney that's 3 times older than he is.
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Northwestern Mutual

Meet Tony Salerno. He's 13. Well, most of him is 13.

"If someone asks me how old I am, I can tell them, ‘Well, part of me is 50, and the other part of me is 13,'" jokes Tony.

Tony just got a new kidney from his dad, so while he's really a 13-year-old boy, his new kidney's almost four times as old.


He needed a kidney because the treatments that saved his life also did a lot of damage. At 2.5 years old, he was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a type of nerve-based cancer.

Baby Tony in the hospital. Photo courtesy of Karen Salerno.

At the time, the rate of survival for someone Tony's age was about 30%, but, thanks to rigorous treatment, he was pronounced cancer-free at age 3.

However, the intense treatments, which included five rounds of chemotherapy, two stem cell transplants, and total body radiation, did a number on his little body. Though he is still cancer-free 10 years later, Tony is dealing with a number of health problems as a result.

"I have to take a lot of pills at every meal," says Tony. "I have to get nightly injections and a weekly injection."

He has some high-frequency hearing loss from the chemo and cataracts in both eyes. His brain's processing speed is slightly slower than normal, which means he takes more time on tests and assignments. That said, he's no less intelligent than the other kids in his class. "I'm smart," retorts Tony.

His adult teeth have only 20% of the root structure they should. Therefore, eating things like corn on the cob can be tough. He also has only one kidney because the radiation destroyed the other one.

It sounds like a lot for anyone to handle, much less a 13-year-old, but Tony keeps walking tall.

Tony with his Superman T-shirt. Photo courtesy of Karen Salerno.

"I've nicknamed him 'the Mayor' because when he walks into a room, whether it's filled with adults or kids, he acts like he's running for office and wants to talk to everyone," Tony's dad, Tony Sr., writes in an email.

Tony's in Boy Scouts. He is often outside, hanging with friends and learning from nature. When he's inside, he's usually playing video games or watching movies with his family.

One New Year's Eve, they were watching "Back to the Future" and Tony's mom, Karen, remarked on Michael J. Fox's short stature. Tony's also always going to be short because the chemo affected his growth. Seeing someone else who's small be so cool definitely gave him a boost.

In the midst of managing symptoms and living the life of an average 13-year-old, Tony got news that his remaining kidney was failing. He needed a transplant.

Karen was ruled out as a donor candidate because her blood type wasn't compatible, but Tony's dad met the long list of criteria.

Tony's parents. Image via NorthwesternMutual/YouTube.

"My biggest worry next was that they would find something wrong with me," writes Tony Sr. "And I'm not a perfect match, but I'm the best match we found."

In November 2016, Tony's doctors said he'd probably need the transplant within one to three years. However, just a month later, his numbers weren't looking so good, and they decided to schedule the procedure for summer 2017. Tony had his transplant on Aug. 1, and his family is happy to report that it was a success!

Tony felt a little "weird" about getting a part of his dad, but his dad lightens the mood with jokes.

Tony at a Lego exhibit. Photo courtesy of Karen Salerno.

"Mostly I kid him that he better take care of it, because I will be watching, and that he gets to celebrate not only his birthday, but his kidney's birthday on my birthday," writes Tony Sr.

Joking aside, it's not easy for his parents to see Tony struggle, especially when he's just trying to live a normal kid's life.

Tony goofing in a hammock. Photo courtesy of Karen Salerno.

Tony Sr. writes that it's hard to watch him "encounter his limitations alongside his friends and schoolmates." Life after cancer, especially when you're also a growing boy, can be a roller coaster, and sometimes they just feel like they're along for the ride.

But with a son like Tony who has beaten so many odds and, despite his limitations, keeps on truckin', it's not all scary.

Of course, things would not look nearly so bright if it weren't for the extraordinary medical support Tony's had over the years.

Tony with Dr. Michael Hogarty at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. Image via NorthwesternMutual/YouTube.

The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia in particular really impressed Tony's parents.

"From a scientific perspective, the things they can find out about him without having to do invasive, exploratory surgery are amazing," remarks Karen.

In fact, Tony's case was involved in initial immunotherapy work at the hospital — a less invasive treatment that involves boosting disease-fighting cells to enable them to target the cancer better. Much of their research wouldn't be possible without funding from companies like Northwestern Mutual.

In the midst of seeing other kids who aren't as lucky as Tony, these less-brutal treatments give his parents hope.

Tony with the family dog, Spike. Photo courtesy of Karen Salerno.

He's still got a long road ahead of him, but with his family and doctors by his side, Tony has the best possible support.

What's more, thanks to the research that's been done on his case, many other sick kids may have an easier time recovering. That's a major win for all families going through this. It's also why Tony's dad believes this simple truth with all his heart:

"He's a success, even with all his side effects. He's a success, because he's still here."

via ABC and Bee Gees / YouTube

A year ago a woman in Pearland, Texas helped save her husband's life because of her quick thinking and the sweet, four-on-the-floor disco beat of the Bee Gees.

After finishing a two-mile run with her husband Quan, Ganesa Collins watched him fall to the ground. "We sat on the bench, and he was in front of me," Collins told ABC. "I was standing behind and stretching, and he just went face forward. His head hit the dirt."

She quickly called 911 and the operator said he was having a heart attack.

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via ABC and Bee Gees / YouTube

A year ago a woman in Pearland, Texas helped save her husband's life because of her quick thinking and the sweet, four-on-the-floor disco beat of the Bee Gees.

After finishing a two-mile run with her husband Quan, Ganesa Collins watched him fall to the ground. "We sat on the bench, and he was in front of me," Collins told ABC. "I was standing behind and stretching, and he just went face forward. His head hit the dirt."

She quickly called 911 and the operator said he was having a heart attack.

Keep Reading Show less
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Each year, an estimated 1.8 million people in the United States are affected by cancer — most commonly cancers of the breast, lung, prostate, and blood cancers such as leukemia. While not everyone overcomes the disease, thanks to science, more people are surviving — and for longer — than ever before in history.

We asked three people whose lives have been impacted by cancer to share their stories – how their lives were changed by the disease, and how they're using that experience to change the future of cancer treatments with the hope that ultimately, in the fight against cancer, science will win. Here's what they had to say.

Celine Ryan, 55, engineer database programmer and mother of five from Detroit, MI

Photo courtesy of Celine Ryan

In September 2013, Celine Ryan woke up from a colonoscopy to some traumatic news. Her gastroenterologist showed her a picture of the cancerous mass they found during the procedure.

Ryan and her husband, Patrick, had scheduled a colonoscopy after discovering some unusual bleeding, so the suspicion she could have cancer was already there. Neither of them, however, were quite prepared for the results to be positive -- or for the treatment to begin so soon. Just two days after learning the news, Ryan had surgery to remove the tumor, part of her bladder, and 17 cancerous lymph nodes. Chemotherapy and radiation soon followed.

Ryan's treatment was rigorous – but in December 2014, she got the devastating news that the cancer, once confined to her colon, had spread to her lungs. Her prognosis, they said, was likely terminal.

But rather than give up hope, Ryan sought support from online research, fellow cancer patients and survivors, and her medical team. When she brought up immunotherapy to her oncologist, he quickly agreed it was the best course of action. Ryan's cancer, like a majority of colon and pancreatic cancers, had been caused by a defect on the gene KRAS, which can result in a very aggressive cancer that is virtually "undruggable." According to the medical literature, the relatively smooth protein structure of the KRAS gene meant that designing inhibitors to bind to surface grooves and treat the cancer has been historically difficult. Through her support systems, Ryan discovered an experimental immunotherapy trial at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda, MD., and called them immediately to see if she was eligible. After months of trying to determine whether she was a suitable candidate for the experimental treatment, Ryan was finally accepted.

The treatment, known as tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte therapy, or TIL, is a testament to how far modern science has evolved. With this therapy, doctors remove a tumor and harvest special immune cells that are found naturally in the tumor. Doctors then grow the cells in a lab over the next several weeks with a protein that promotes rapid TIL growth – and once the cells number into the billions, they are infused back into the patient's body to fight the cancer. On April 1, 2015, Ryan had her tumor removed at the NIH. Two months later, she went inpatient for four weeks to have the team "wash out" her immune system with chemotherapy and infuse the cells – all 148 billion of them – back into her body.

Six weeks after the infusion, Ryan and Patrick went back for a follow-up appointment – and the news they got was stunning: Not only had no new tumors developed, but the six existing tumors in her lungs had shrunk significantly. Less than a year after her cell infusion, in April 2016, the doctors told Ryan news that would have been impossible just a decade earlier: Thanks to the cell infusion, Ryan was now considered NED – no evaluable disease. Her body was cancer-free.

Ryan is still NED today and continuing annual follow-up appointments at the NIH, experiencing things she never dreamed she'd be able to live to see, such as her children's high school and college graduations. She's also donating her blood and cells to the NIH to help them research other potential cancer treatments. "It was an honor to do so," Ryan said of her experience. "I'm just thrilled, and I hope my experience can help a lot more people."

Patrice Lee, PhD, VP of Pharmacology, Toxicology and Exploratory Development at Pfizer

Photo courtesy of Patrice Lee

Patrice Lee got into scientific research in an unconventional way – through the late ocean explorer Jacques Cousteau.

Lee never met Cousteau but her dreams of working with him one day led her to pursue a career in science. Initially, Lee completed an undergraduate degree in marine biology; eventually, her interests changed and she decided to get a dual doctoral degree in physiology and toxicology at Duke University. She now works at Pfizer's R&D site in Boulder, CO (formerly Array BioPharma), leading a group of scientists who determine the safety and efficacy of new oncology drugs.

"Scientists focused on drug discovery and development in the pharmaceutical industry are deeply committed to inventing new therapies to meet unmet needs," Lee says, describing her field of work. "We're driven to achieve new medicines and vaccines as quickly as possible without sacrificing safety."

Among the drugs Lee has helped develop during her career, including cancer therapies, she says around a dozen are currently in development, while nine have received FDA approval — an incredible accomplishment as many scientists spend their careers without seeing their drug make it to market. Lee's team is particularly interested in therapies for brain metastases — something that Lee says is a largely unmet need in cancer research, and something her team is working on from a variety of angles. "Now that we've had rapid success with mRNA vaccine technology, we hope to explore what the future holds when applying this technology to cancers," Lee says.

But while evaluating potential cancer therapies is a professional passion of Lee's, it's also a mission that's deeply personal. "I'm also a breast cancer survivor," she says. "So I've been on the other side of things and have participated in a clinical trial."

However, seeing how melanoma therapies that she helped develop have affected other real-life cancer patients, she says, has been a highlight of her career. "We had one therapy that was approved for patients with BRAF-mutant metastatic melanoma," Lee recalls. "Our team in Boulder was graced by a visit from a patient that had benefited from these drugs that we developed. It was a very special moment for the entire team."

None of these therapies would be available, Lee says without rigorous science behind it: "Facts come from good science. Facts will drive the development of new drugs, and that's what will help patients."

Chiuying "Cynthia" Kuk (they/them) MS, 34, third-year medical student at Michigan State University College of Human Medicine

Photo courtesy of Cynthia Kuk

Cynthia Kuk was just 10 years old when they had a conversation that would change their life forever.

"My mother, who worked as a translator for the government at the time, had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and after her chemotherapy treatments she would get really sick," Kuk, who uses they/them pronouns, recalls. "When I asked my dad why mom was puking so much, he said it was because of the medicine she was taking that would help her get better."

Kuk's response was immediate: "That's so stupid! Why would a medicine make you feel worse instead of better? When I'm older, I want to create medicine that won't make people sick like that."

Nine years later, Kuk traveled from their native Hong Kong to the United States to do exactly that. Kuk enrolled in a small, liberal arts college for their Bachelor's degree, and then four years later started a PhD program in cancer research. Although Kuk's mother was in remission from her cancer at the time, Kuk's goal was the same as it had been as a 10-year-old watching her suffer through chemotherapy: to design a better cancer treatment, and change the landscape of cancer research forever.

Since then, Kuk's mission has changed slightly.

"My mom's cancer relapsed in 2008, and she ended up passing away about five years after that," Kuk says. "After my mom died, I started having this sense of urgency. Cancer research is such that you work for twenty years, and at the end of it you might have a fancy medication that could help people, but I wanted to help people now." With their mother still at the forefront of their mind, Kuk decided to quit their PhD program and enter medical school.

Now, Kuk plans to pursue a career in emergency medicine – not only because they are drawn to the excitement of the emergency room, but because the ER is a place where the most marginalized people tend to seek care.

"I have a special interest in the LGBTQ+ population, as I identify as queer and nonbinary," says Kuk. "A lot of people in this community and other marginalized communities access care through the ER and also tend to avoid medical care since there is a history of mistreatment and judgement from healthcare workers. How you carry yourself as a doctor, your compassion, that can make a huge difference in someone's care."

In addition to making a difference in the lives of LGBTQ+ patients, Kuk wants to make a difference in the lives of patients with cancer as well, like their mother had.

"We've diagnosed patients in the Emergency Department with cancer before," Kuk says. "I can't make cancer good news but how you deliver bad news and the compassion you show could make a world of difference to that patient and their family."

During their training, Kuk advocates for patients by delivering compassionate and inclusive care, whether they happen to have cancer or not. In addition to emphasizing their patient's pronouns and chosen names, they ask for inclusive social and sexual histories as well as using gender neutral language. In doing this, they hope to make medicine as a whole more accessible for people who have been historically pushed aside.

"I'm just one person, and I can't force everyone to respect you, if you're marginalized," Kuk says. "But I do want to push for a culture where people appreciate others who are different from them."