From the Desk of Dr. Louis M. Weiner

I cannot wait until I can retire the temporary name of this blog. I certainly am tired of living in the time of coronavirus. However, as there is only a single, far less attractive alternative at this moment, I choose life. That means that nothing much has changed. It’s becoming increasingly clear that the vaccine rollout will be agonizingly slow for those who are waiting. Until then, we all wait, masked and physically distant.

I am lucky, because my work remains fulfilling and distracting. I have basically finalized a new R01 submission, which focuses on exploiting the anti-tumor properties of NK cells in pancreatic cancer. We’ve published a number of relevant articles over the past few months, including a review of fibroblast activation protein (Allison Fitzgerald), another review led by Allison on 3D cellular cultures for cancer research, a new review led by Zoe Malchiodi on the interactions of NK cells with pancreatic stellate cells and an upcoming article in Cancer Immunology Research, led by former grad student Reham Ajina, on mechanisms of pancreatic cancer resistance to immune attack. The grant builds on these themes. My next step is to build some multi-PI initiatives around pancreatic cancer.

Needless to say, the research sits atop a large mound of additional cancer center-related work. My days have never seemed so full. I have taken to walking into work on my clinic afternoon when the weather permits; it is a nice break and adds 2.8 miles to my usual exercise regimen.

Perhaps most importantly, I do all of this in a country that is reeling from the pandemic, roiled by political differences, deeply troubled by inequality, and still in the throes of economic crisis. Yet, it all seems so… normal. There is a sense of equanimity, almost serenity as we confront these very real crises. Leadership really matters, it seems. I had almost forgotten.

Keep those masks on your face — even after you have been vaccinated. Stay safe, and be well.

Lou

The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and not necessarily to the author’s employer, organization, committee or other group or individual.

About 10 years ago, Harriet and I attended the Georgetown University-sponsored event observing Martin Luther King Jr. Day at the Kennedy Center. The air tingled with electricity. We were subjected to unusually tight security at access points. It could mean only one thing — the president of the United States would be in the audience. Wow. The country was beginning to emerge from a fiscal calamity. We gathered to celebrate the life and legacy of a moral giant, who surely would smile to know that the president was a man of African descent; surely the moral arc of the universe had bent toward justice. The glow of that evening was all-encompassing. Hope and change.

Here we are, 10 years later. Hope changed into chaos and conflict, and we find ourselves unable to gather together today to celebrate the legacy of a great man who pointed us toward our better selves. Racial justice somehow remains controversial — in the 21st century! Smiles are memories, hidden by masks, as SARS-CoV-2 cuts its deadly swath throughout the country, with a national response crippled by the toxic politicization of a public health crisis. Our nation struggles with starkly differing views of what it means to be the United States, and a radical fringe element aims to overturn elections through violence. Yet, I feel hopeful. Why?

Simply stated, change is coming, and not a moment too soon. A good man will be inaugurated on Wednesday, and the new vice president will be not only an historic figure, but a worthy leader in her own right. I predict that this coming year will see effective distribution of coronavirus vaccines, a receding pandemic, a reversing recession and a resumption of American engagement on the world scene. We’ll start getting back to our new normal. Our national nightmare will begin to recede into the mists of memory, though we will be forever changed by the events of 2020, of the last four years and the last four weeks. We will have rediscovered the empowerment of political engagement, the importance of our communities, our urgent need to stay connected, our patriotism and our reverence for facts and science as fundamental bases of human progress. None of this will be easy, but we will get back to work, and cancer will be waiting for us. We’ll be ready.

Change is coming. Something wicked that way goes.

Good.

Stay safe and be well.

Lou

The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and not necessarily to the author’s employer, organization, committee or other group or individual.

Better days are ahead.

I still remember a magical moment a few years ago when I stood alone on a balcony of the Capitol, facing the setting sun, after attending a GU alumni event. Standing there, I thought of a little kid, growing up in a garden apartment just outside Philadelphia, the son of a hidden child during the Holocaust, now standing on this sacred spot, awed, humbled and deeply grateful for the gifts of liberty, opportunity and greatness of this country. We cannot let this slip away. Our country faces an existential question — was this past Wednesday our 1933 Reichstag fire, or simply a call to action to those who would form an ever more perfect union?

I am writing this week’s blog on Friday evening, as I still try to process the events of this past week. Domestic terrorists invaded and vandalized the U.S. Capitol, one of civilization’s sacred secular temples, aiming to destroy democracy in order to better serve the interests of a would-be tyrant. People died. A nation was shaken. The world watched and shook its head in sorrow as the light of the shining city on the hill was dimmed briefly. Yet, that light still shines. The physical damage is being repaired. The criminals are being brought to justice. The instigator-in-chief is being held to account, silenced, shamed and shunned. His accomplices will be held accountable; we will not forget. He will continue to wreak havoc to the best of his malign ability, but Wednesday was, finally, the turning point. The angels of our better souls have risen, and they will prevail, though it will not be easy.

Political extremism and evil are more than passing acquaintances. I can’t help but feel that the criminals who would destroy our representative democracy represent a lunatic fringe that has been legitimized, leveraged and encouraged by those who crave power for its own sake, and will stop at nothing to keep it. I refuse to believe that these nuts truly represent the wishes of the more than 70 million voters who supported Trump. These extremists and their enablers should be treated as criminals and terrorists who must be sanctioned in accord with the laws of our country. The rest of us have a lot of work in front of us, to repair the damage to our civic and political fabrics. January 20 cannot come soon enough, when the future of our democracy will be in capable, caring hands.

Better days are ahead — I received my second COVID immunization today. It was a muted, matter of fact moment; until Harriet is immunized our lives won’t change much, since we are only as safe as the most vulnerable (i.e., unvaccinated) component of our household, and must act accordingly.

Speaking of vaccines, I wrote the following during the holiday break, as I processed the events of one particular day: December 21, 2020. It feels dated already, but you might find it interesting…

Harriet and I spent the day agonizing over a planned trip to visit my father this coming Wednesday, to wish him a happy birthday. He will turn 94 on Thursday. It will be his last birthday, almost surely, as he continues to fail, bit by bit. His once formidable intellect is fading, though it is still encased by his engaging and endearing personality.

We agonized because of the COVID-19 pandemic. As of December 20, the official coronavirus infection rate in DC was 3.4%, but 18.2% in Bucks County, Pa., where my father lives, complete with a rotating cast of local family members and care providers. The vaccine is coming, we told ourselves; it would be irresponsible to expose ourselves to unnecessary risk when there is finally light at the end of the tunnel, and doubly irresponsible to expose my frail, elderly father to any added risk.

In the end, we decided to make a day trip, seeing only my father and two others who live in the home with him. We planned to wear masks, employ social distancing, with open windows, to stay for a few hours, leave and then socially isolate for a week. [Note: We did none of these things. Because a possible COVID exposure in that household required a quarantine, we stayed home throughout the holiday break].

Meanwhile, I received an email this afternoon, telling me that I was eligible to receive the SARS-CoV-2 vaccine, and was instructed to go the hospital to schedule the immunization. I was gobsmacked, as I didn’t think it would be my turn until later in January. I got there in about 10 minutes, having long ago decided that the potential benefits were worth the risk. It seemed that half of the Lombardi clinical staffers were in line. There was a sense of euphoria in the air, and the process was amazingly simple. I have had no adverse reaction other than excessive verbosity. My next and final vaccination is scheduled for January 8. I should have full immunity shortly thereafter.

I am quite surprised to feel so relieved, and must admit to feeling a bit of “survivor’s guilt,” which makes no sense as I do see patients. Harriet still must wait her turn. I hope but do not know that my immunity will prevent me from being infected, though I know it greatly reduces my chances of developing life-threatening infection-caused illness. Until we know the vaccine reduces transmission I will continue to act as if I might still be able to transmit viable viral particles to unimmunized recipients, even in the absence of symptoms. So, while I will experience less personal existential dread, the fundamentals of daily life are not likely to change much, at least not yet.  Also, I likely will need to go through COVID testing protocols if I have been immunized and demonstrate immunity in order to work on the campus.

I am mindful of and grateful for this miracle, which might be taken for granted in these turbulent times. A novel, frequently lethal coronavirus infection was identified 11 months ago (or, three lifetimes ago, so it seems), and vaccines that prevent this illness and will save countless lives are now being distributed. The speed of this process was simply breathtaking, and it is a testament to the power of the scientific community in this country and around the world. I wonder how those who scorn public health science can so fully embrace the transformative power of vaccines?

It should be remembered that this process could be so condensed because of decades of work in the fields of RNA biology, virology, vaccine development and regulatory science. Some of this work happened in the pharmaceutical sector, but most of the critical precursors happened in the academic sector. Scientists, please take a bow! Thank you for shining a light at the end of this endless, dark tunnel. That light — the flash of a scientific detonator — will ignite an explosion of immunity to blow that tunnel out of existence.

Stay safe, and be well.

Lou

The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and not necessarily to the author’s employer, organization, committee or other group or individual.

Happy New Year! I don’t know about you, but I needed the break. We ended up not going anywhere; I had hoped to visit my father to celebrate his 94th birthday, but his companion was quarantined because a co-worker’s wife tested positive. We all agreed that discretion was the better part of valor. Fortunately, she tested negative, but at this point I will wait until I am fully vaccinated (and will wear a mask nonetheless).

So, it was a pretty quiet two weeks. We watched a lot of movies, I wrote a very respectable first draft of a new R01 grant that focuses on the role and use of natural killer cells in pancreatic adenocarcinoma, and we had a lot of Zoom calls with family and friends. Harriet and I continued our ekphrastic collaboration (each such painting by Harriet incorporates a poem by me), and I watched the Eagles’ season disintegrate with sullen disinterest. We continued to organize the house, and did some reading, too. I am in the middle of a charming book, titled “Pappyland,” which is about a legendary Kentucky bourbon, but is actually about so much more.

Later this week I will post an “in-between” blog that I wrote when I received my first COVID vaccination on December 21. I get my next shot on January 8. I don’t want to contract the infection before I am fully immune by January 15 or thereabouts; it would be akin to being the last person to die before a battle ends.

I remain grateful and feel very fortunate for the chance to get immunized as a patient-facing health care provider. Interestingly, the initial exhilaration and relief I felt after the first immunization has faded just a bit. While I am likely to be safe, I don’t know how effective the protection will be if I am challenged with a high viral load. I don’t know if I might become asymptomatically infected and transmit the virus to Harriet or someone else. I don’t expect her to receive her first vaccine dose for a few more months. I don’t know if/when immunized people will be able to return to work on the Georgetown campus, and under what conditions. My initial thoughts that I can go food shopping and run other errands were probably premature. So, we will return to the fray doing pretty much what we did before the break: home office, home delivery, walks around home, occasional COVID-safe excursions and lots of Zoom. Rinse, wash, repeat. Now that there is some light at the end of the tunnel, it will be easier to endure, though harder to maintain discipline.

Important work beckons, and life continues to be sweet. The first few months of 2021 will be rough, between COVID-19 and government power transitions, but better times are ahead.

Stay safe and be well.

Lou

The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and not necessarily to the author’s employer, organization, committee or other group or individual.