Gene Therapy Trial Paves a Path for Other Diseases

Published: June 25, 2015 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

Today, UNC Health Care announced an innovative, gene transfer-based treatment approach for children with giant axonal neuropathy (GAN). The treatment, developed by researchers led by Steven J. Gray, PhD, is the first of its kind. A clinical trial is now underway at the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke (NINDS) of the National Institutes of Health (NIH).

This is significant news for Taylor’s Tale and the Batten disease community because we’re funding Dr. Gray’s work on infantile Batten disease – work modeled after the GAN research that is now treating children at the NIH. continue reading →

Gene Therapy and a Birthday Party

Published: June 20, 2015 ~ 4

By Laura Edwards

Every time I visit Steve Gray and the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center, I want to run home and immediately write a blog post and email all of my media contacts and friends in the rare disease community and tell them what’s happening in a lab two hours from my hometown. I want to tell them Steve and his team are going to change the world.

But when I get home, I can’t find the right words, and instead I just scroll through my pictures and reread my notes and wonder how I can possibly feel so inspired knowing we’re too late to save my little sister. continue reading →

The Launch of a Trial, and the Light at the End of the Tunnel

Published: February 15, 2015 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

Nearly five years ago, when my sister could still sing and talk and walk and eat ice cream cones on hot summer days, my mother met Steve Gray, a young investigator from the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center, at a conference in Bethesda. Since 2008 he’d been working on giant axonal neuropathy (GAN), an ultra-rare, fatal childhood disease that causes progressive nerve death.

A few months later, we drove to Greensboro to have dinner with him. We weren’t ready to take the leap then, but Mom believed in Steve since the first time she heard him speak about his effort to save children from a monster that turned them into quadriplegics unable to eat or breathe on their own. When I sat across from Steve in our booth that night, I believed in him, too. continue reading →

2013: The Memories

Published: December 29, 2013 ~ 2

By Laura Edwards

As the sun sets on 2013, our seventh full year fighting the war against Batten disease, I know in my heart that in many ways, the story has just begun.

On Jan. 4, we remembered my Grandma Kathryn, an angel in life who earned her wings on Christmas Day 2012. My grandmother, who loved her grandchildren more than she loved her own life, urged us to fight the demon from the moment we got Taylor’s diagnosis in the summer of 2006. She had no way of knowing that she, too, had a tragic neurodegenerative disease lurking inside of her. There was nothing she wanted more than an answer for the disease that dared to steal her granddaughter’s life. I fight for Taylor, but I fight for Grandma Kathryn, too.

On Feb. 28, World Rare Disease Day, Taylor’s Tale announced that we had joined an international coalition to fund gene therapy research at the University of North Carolina. Dr. Steve Gray and his mentor, Dr. Jude Samulski, are not the only talented scientists working on Batten disease. But I believe in them because of 1) what I’ve learned about the science of Batten disease in seven-plus years, 2) what I’ve been told by their respected peers and 3) something in my heart that I can’t describe. And I believe in my heart that if we can continue to fund this project, we’ll have a clinical trial for kids like Taylor in a few short years.

For the fifth consecutive year, music students and teachers held a playathon for Taylor’s Tale in Raleigh, N.C. Their efforts raised thousands of dollars and a great deal of awareness for our fight against Batten disease. I love these kids and their teachers. This event is special.

In April, Taylor’s former classmates at The Fletcher School held their second cardio craze fundraiser with local celebrity Andre Hairston. They turned a school gym into a sea of love and hope.

On June 1, I announced my plan to run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to honor Taylor and support the fight against rare diseases.

Eleven days later, Mom spoke at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) on behalf of Hannah’s Hope Fund. Mom and Lori Sames, founder of Hannah’s Hope, delivered amazing speeches, and Hannah’s Hope gained approval from the Recombinant DNA Advisory Committee (RAC) in its quest to begin a human clinical trial for another childhood neurodegenerative disease called GAN.

This year, Taylor’s Tale also welcomed new board members. Our first- and second-year board members have made an incredible impact on our fight against rare diseases in 2013.

During the five and a half months that I trained to run 13.1 miles blindfolded, I learned more about my sister’s dark world, and myself, than I could have ever imagined. And race day, Nov. 16, is an experience I’ll never forget. No words of mine can describe what happened at the Thunder Road Half Marathon for the fight against rare diseases.

In many ways, 2013 has been the most successful year for Taylor’s Tale since my mom and I founded it with a small but determined group of volunteers in a Charlotte living room seven years ago. We connected with members of Congress and developed contacts with other key individuals. We partnered with a leading patient advocacy organization called the Global Genes Project and were adopted by a wonderful, local philanthropic organization called Playing for Others. We’ve raised more money in other years, but we’ve never extended our reach in such a big way, or had this much excitement surrounding a funded project, or harnessed the power of a great story the way we did with the run…until now.

But while 2013 has been an incredible year for Taylor’s Tale, it has been a difficult year for Taylor in every way. When we founded Taylor’s Tale, my sister was an animated, spunky, running, playing, talking, singing 8-year-old with most of her vision. But Batten disease is a demon. Taylor has a beautiful singing voice, but she can no longer talk. Her two 5K finishes inspired my blindfolded half marathon, but she can no longer walk without assistance, and her wheelchair is on order. My sister taught herself to read before kindergarten and learned Braille after she went blind, but she can’t read or write anymore. My sister can’t use a fork and spoon, because Batten disease stole her fine motor coordination. I can see the sadness in her eyes, even though her eyes can’t see me.

Batten disease has won every battle.

But it will NOT win this war.

Today, We Win

Published: June 12, 2013 ~ 1

By Laura Edwards

Today, I tuned into a live webcast of the Recombinant DNA Advisory Committee (RAC) ‘s discussion of gene therapy for giant axonal neuropathy (GAN) on the NIH campus in Washington. The RAC meeting was a big step in the approval process for the GAN work funded by our friends at Hannah’s Hope Fund to make it to human clinical trial later this year; it’s also very important for the Batten disease work Taylor’s Tale is co-funding at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center, because our project is based on the GAN studies.

On that webcast, I watched two amazing scientists explain the science behind their work, answer tough questions and make a strong case for moving forward. I’ve met a lot of experts in the near-seven years since we started this fight, but I know without a doubt that people with GAN and infantile and late infantile Batten disease have two of the best working for them at UNC. Dr . Jude Samulski and Dr. Steven Gray are fantastic scientists, and they understand the world of families like mine. Kids like Hannah and Taylor are in their minds when they’re in the lab, and I think that’s part of what drives them to be so good at what they do.

I also watched two women who are incredible advocates, fundraisers and, yes – mothers – deliver speeches I will never forget. I’ve met a lot of mothers, but I don’t think a rare disease has ever met a tougher opponent than Lori Sames or Sharon King. Though my mom and Lori, Hannah’s mom and founder of Hannah’s Hope Fund, are different in many ways, they are similar in that they looked their child’s rare disease with no known treatment in the face and said, “You will NOT defeat me. I will NOT sit back and let you take my child without a fight.” They refused to “live everyday with the knowledge that the consequence of doing nothing is sure and certain death.” And because of the choice they made, people like Hannah and Taylor have a light at the end of the tunnel.

…live everyday with the knowledge that the consequence of doing nothing is sure and certain death.

I feel honored and privileged to know and work with all of these amazing people. Big things are in store because of their wisdom, dedication and courage. I am saddened by the reality of my own sister’s decline but inspired by the possibilities for the future and our potential to help build a better world for people with genetic diseases. Today, the RAC committee granted our friends approval to march forward in their quest to launch the first human clinical trial for GAN later this year. You can be sure that we’ll be working to make certain Batten disease is not far behind.

I believe!

When the Eruption is Over

Published: May 23, 2013 ~ 4

By Laura Edwards

It is not easy to paint a picture of Batten disease for people who have never seen it before. If you wish to paint with a large brush, you can tell them that children born with Batten disease never survive it; that it is total destruction; like a molten wave of lava and volcanic rock and ash.

Batten disease is not easy for most people to understand, but everyone can see that Taylor is blind. The destruction reached her eyes first. They are still beautiful and rare, the color of the caramel inside a Milky Way bar and framed by impossibly long lashes. But they lost their sparkle long ago.

Five years ago this past January, a clinical trial coordinator brought my sister’s honey blonde hair to us in a Ziploc bag as we waited in a chilly waiting room in Oregon, thousands of miles from our home on the East Coast. Down the hall, a surgeon drilled eight holes into my sister’s skull and gave her hope. Not life, but hope.

For the next several years, my parents and Taylor made frequent return trips to Oregon. Once, they rented a car and drove south to Crater Lake, one of our country’s pristine natural wonders.

More than half a century ago, Freeman Tilden, said to be the grandfather of park interpretation, wrote a text, “Interpreting our Heritage,” that is still used to educate rangers today. One of the essays holds special meaning for us.

The essay, “That Elderly Schoolma’am Nature,” tells the story of a park naturalist meeting a man just inside the rim of Crater Lake. The naturalist can sense that something is different about the visitor from the moment he sees him but only comes to the determination that he is blind after noticing the man’s very dark glasses and putting all of the clues together.

And then, the visitor asks the naturalist to describe the lake to him. But how do you describe one of the world’s most stunning lakes to a man who cannot see?

The naturalist asks the man to take off his gloves, so that he can take his hands and move them around the crater model and describe its shape and depth and skyline and the curious, cone-shaped island in the middle. But how do you describe the blue of its water – a blue that has no equal – to someone who has not seen blue in many long years?

The visitor remembers the blue of the sky from his childhood. The blue of Crater Lake is nothing like the blue of the sky. But in his mind and his heart, he experiences the wonders of Crater Lake more fully than the naturalist could have ever imagined. And as he walks away, the naturalist realizes that the visitor “had extended his power of seeing – which was an achievement beyond price,” and that “We are all of us somewhat blind, even those who believe their eyesight is faultless.”

I love so many things about this story. My dad, who shares my love of national parks, gave a copy of it to Mom and me several years ago, and I’ve held onto it ever since. And my wise mother, who now leads Taylor’s Tale into an exciting future of new partnerships and boundless possibilities, shared Tilden’s essay with me again this week, urging me to apply the story toward our journey in our fight against Batten disease.

“We are all of us somewhat blind, even those who believe their eyesight is faultless.”

Because, as Mom reminded me, we embarked on this journey with our eyes focused directly on beating Batten disease. Our experience, though, has afforded us peripheral vision. We now understand the connection between all rare diseases – so many of which do not have a single approved treatment – and the millions battling for their lives. And just as the park naturalist and the blind man learned from one another, we, as fellow fighters and advocates, can learn from each other and support each other – and by doing so, we can become more efficient and effective. We will never reach our goals if we fight our battles in our own disease silos.

There is a very rare disorder called giant axonal neuropathy, or GAN. It is an inherited, recessive disease that first appears in early childhood. It results in nerve death and quadriplegia, and it is always fatal. The incidence is unknown, but it probably affects fewer than 100 people in the world.

Undeterred by these odds, the family of a little girl named Hannah decided to fight GAN head-on. In 2008, Lori and Matt Sames founded Hannah’s Hope Fund in their daughter’s honor. That same year, Hannah’s Hope began funding gene therapy for GAN at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center under Dr. Steven Gray. The clinical trial is expected to begin later this year.

Two months ago, Taylor’s Tale and five partners announced funding for gene therapy for infantile and late infantile Batten disease at UNC, also under Dr. Gray. Our project is following in the footsteps of the GAN work that is on the brink of clinical trial. And Lori’s fight for her daughter could very well help lead to a treatment for kids like my sister. Dr. Gray plans to use the same gene vector and methods to treat Batten disease. And if the GAN trial is successful, we will, in Lori’s words, “move like wildfire to apply this to the lives of children with Batten.”

“…move like wildfire to apply this to the lives of children with Batten.”

Together, we can reach our goals. There are so many of us in the rare disease community, and there is strength in numbers. That is an advantage, but it is also the saddest thing of all. There are TOO MANY of us. We’ll change that when we play to our strength by finding treatments for people like Hannah and Taylor.

I think about how the landscape in central Oregon must have looked on the day of the volcanic eruption that created the most beautiful lake in the world. I know that many dedicated people, from the team at UNC to those working to ensure that their science is supported, will move like wildfire to outrun the death and destruction of diseases like Batten and GAN.

And every night, when another day’s work is done, I dream about how beautiful the lake can be when the eruption is over.

We are the “They”

Published: June 20, 2012 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

Today’s edition of the Boston Globe features a story about patients’ and patient advocates’ growing impact on drug development as pharmaceutical companies and the FDA respond to demands.

Every paragraph spoke to me. Every reference contained some connection to our own battle with Batten disease. Every word said, this is your story.

A Texas energy executive and a New York financial services executive, both fathers of sons with hemophilia, launched a biotechnology firm focused on a cure for the bleeding disorder because they grew frustrated with the lack of options for their children.

In 2008, 100 yards from my parents’ house, near the end of an hour-long walk fueled by passion for a treatment we could reach out and touch in our dreams but couldn’t fathom in real life, my mom and I made the decision to turn our steering committee with a couple of successful fundraisers, a website, a blog and a small group of dedicated volunteers into the non-profit organization known today as Taylor’s Tale, because we wanted more for children like my little sister.

The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research – mentioned a few paragraphs later in the Globe article – served as inspiration at a recent meeting of the board of directors of Taylor’s Tale – still fighting for kids like Taylor in 2012.

In the mid-1990s, Pat Furlong lost her two sons to Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Not long after their diagnosis, she borrowed $100,000 to finance research, posed as a doctor to get face time with Duchenne muscular dystrophy experts and pleaded her case with drug company execs.

Pat Furlong and my mom, Sharon, have a lot in common. They share the same vision. They have the same fearlessness. The same bulldog mentality. In the past several years, my mom has turned to Furlong more than once for advice.

One of the drug companies mentioned in the article, Genzyme, developed a drug ignited by a father who wanted desperately to save his children from Pompe disease – and would stop at nothing to succeed. The father is John Crowley; his story is chronicled by former Globe writer Geeta Anand in the book “The Cure” and, later, the movie “Extraordinary Measures.” At the first meeting of the steering committee that eventually became Taylor’s Tale, my mom gave a copy of “The Cure” to each of the women seated around the room. She gave us two assignments that day: to read the book, and to fight with her, no matter how tough the road might seem; because she believed, she hoped we could believe, too.

I posted a link to another interesting article – this from the Chicago Tribune – on our Facebook page last month. This story focused on parents of children with giant axonal neuropathy (GAN) who hired researchers to develop a treatment. Like Batten disease, GAN is a neurodegenerative disease – though it is far more rare (only 25-30 known cases worldwide, compared with at least 500 known cases of Batten disease in the United States alone). And yet these parents succeeded in raising enough money to put researchers on track for human clinical trial in the near future.

The Tribune article contained a quote from one of the GAN parents that has stayed with me since the moment I read it. In the six years since Taylor’s diagnosis, I’ve never heard anyone describe the existence of the close family member of someone with a rare disease so well:

“After Ethan was diagnosed, people would say to us, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll find a cure,'” Tkalec said. “And I’d say, ‘You don’t understand … there is no ‘they.’ We are the ‘they.'”

She’s right – we are the “they.” For as grateful as I am for the support we’ve received over the years – from building our non-profit organization to supporting it to offering friendship and, on rough days, a shoulder to cry on – I know that ultimately, this fight is ours to fight; that if we don’t fight, no one will. That the minute we stop fighting – the minute we stop believing – that’s when the mountain will become insurmountable.