Scanxiety is Alive and Well

Friends and Family,

Scanxiety has been alive and well for Genevieve and me. First, we turned our trip to San Diego into a three-legged trip that started in Hawaii. That was wonderful, but it meant I had to get my CT scan in Portland two and a half weeks before I met with the oncologist in San Diego to get the results. That’s a loooooong time to wait to find out if cancer is growing!

Scanxiety.jpg

To complicate it, my friend Shelley, who had No Evidence of Disease (NED) for over two years, asked her doctor to do a brain MRI, because it’s protocol to do them every two years. While the rest of her was cancer-free, the MRI showed three brain tumors. They took care of the tumors, but it left me concerned, since I hadn’t had a brain MRI in over SIX YEARS. I appreciate Shelly telling me about her experience. That cancer could be poking Swiss cheese holes in my brain, and I might be the last to know. I asked my doctor to order an MRI for me, so we were waiting for THAT news for two and a half weeks as well.

It seems there’s always something that can add to the worry. This time, I had been coughing more for a couple of months. So far coughing has been a terrible predictor of when the cancer is progressing for me, but it’s a well-known symptom that’s hard to ignore. Add to that some stress with a neighbor that has been going on for months, and there was a lot on our minds before we got to San Diego.

But the trip to San Diego didn’t go as planned. A mechanical problem delayed our takeoff, which put us past the flight arrival curfew in San Diego. Because of that, they re-routed our plane to LA, and then bussed us down to San Diego from there. We finally arrived at our hotel at 5:30 in the morning, with just enough time to take a two-hour nap at our hotel before getting up and going to my appointment.

A little worse for wear, we showed up and tried to be prepared for anything.

The results couldn’t have been better. No changes in the CT scan results. We were thrilled!

The brain MRI results were “unremarkable,” so you can take that however you want. I’m choosing not to take it as an insult. Really.

With all the good news in hand, we waited in a sunny outdoor courtyard until my new supply of the medication was ready for pick-up. I launched into work on my computer and was carrying on like it was just another day.

But then Genevieve burst into tears, and couldn’t stop sobbing. She said she didn’t realize that she had been holding her breath for so long. Even though we tell ourselves that everything is going well, every scan results in a yes/no, cancer growth/no growth verdict. That makes it feel like there is a 50/50 chance that the cancer has started progressing again.

It feels even more impossible that things are going so well, because on average this drug works for 13 months without progression. It’s now been five years for me!

Does that mean I’m overdue? Or that the standards just don’t apply to me?

What Genevieve and I believe about that depends on when you ask us. If it’s now: I’m the exception, and that’s all there is to it. If you ask during that time between the scan and seeing the doctor, well...

Don’t ask.

Love,

Dann

Politics can get Very Uncomfortable

Friends and Family,

 Sometimes, you have to take a stand. It happened for me when I learned that the Oregon Health Plan (the states’ affordable care/Medicaid program) was holding a public hearing to consider banning payment for cancer genetic testing. How could they do such a thing? To deny testing meant to deny access to any targeted therapies. Why should those with limited means be limited to the same treatment options that have been around for decades? This is not acceptable!

 I coordinated with LUNGevity and Caring Ambassadors, skipped work last Thursday, and showed up to testify. I’m so very glad I did.

 The review committee started with their own discussion, where it became clear that the chairman thought such testing was a waste of resources. He also clarified that this proposal would ban payment for most, but not all, genetic testing. Representatives from drug companies, testing companies, advocacy groups, and health care systems all testified in strong support of testing. The committee chair was not impressed.  

When all the professionals were done talking, I was the final speaker. First, I read the testimony of Jacque, a 32 year-old survivor friend who couldn’t be there. I could barely hold it together – actually, I didn’t – while I read of her six-year battle, and how she wouldn’t be alive without the genetic testing that has opened the door for her to have had two separate treatments with targeted therapies.

 Next, I shared a brief version of my own twelve-year story. I shared the highs, the lows, the fears… and a lot of my own tears. I told them that, without genetic testing and then targeted therapy, they would have been talking to my widow. I am alive today because of two separate targeted therapies, which were only available after genetic testing.

 Three of the four committee members were clearly moved, but the committee chair wouldn’t (couldn’t?) make eye contact with me. One member had flash cards to warn speakers when their time was running out, but he never lifted a card, even after I continued telling my story after my time had expired.

 When I finished, there was an awkward silence. The chair didn’t say another negative word about testing. The committee fumbled around for a bit, unwilling to vote to ban payment. Finally, they passed a resolution to table the topic until they had more data. I’m calling this a victory! It would have been next to impossible to overturn a rule once it is in place.

 When they were finished with the vote, all the people who had spoken, and a few others who hadn’t, gathered outside the committee room. Most of them came up to me, one by one, to tell me that they thought that the ban would have passed if I hadn’t shared Jacque’s and my stories. Science is one thing: putting a human face on the discussion was entirely another matter.

 I have seen the same responsiveness when lobbying in Washington, DC. Our elected representatives are far more receptive when you share your story than if you only offer statistics.

 If your passion is lung cancer, I hope you share your story with anyone who will listen. And if your passion is some other cause, share the personal side of that, too. This has been a great reminder for me that  in the end, we’re all human, and humanity is what we respond to. That is why I continue to share so much of myself with you, no matter how uncomfortable it is. It still brings us closer together.

 Hoping your life is uncomfortable… in a good way.

 Love,

 Dann

Not That I'm Trying to Milk This Topic, But My Scan Results are In

Friends and Family,

It’s another beautiful day to be alive!

Genevieve and I went to San Diego yesterday to meet with my oncologist, and get the latest CT scan results. I had new, contradictory reasons to both excitedly hope for some shrinkage of the cancer, and to fear that it would start growing again.

After announcing two weeks ago that I had eliminated dairy from my diet, based on cancer research, a friend (Laura Greco, whom I wrote about HERE) sent me a link to a research article that shows that casein, the major protein in milk, suppresses lung cancer tumor growth. This left me completely confused. Now I had contradictory evidence that drinking milk would either stop any tumors from growing – or maybe even shrink them – or it could be feeding the cancer.  

I immediately emailed my oncologist, who emailed back that “it’s probably fine to continue drinking milk.”

WHAT? I’m betting my life on this decision, and I get a weak answer like this? It sounded like he didn’t want to bother looking at the article. What do you do with THAT response, when your life may depend on it?

Without any real answers, I decided that I should start drinking milk again, since what I have been doing has been working for me for the past twelve years (YEAH!). Of course, THEN I worried that maybe the cancer might have started growing again, since I had been off milk for a month.

At the same time, I was excited to see if being off milk for a month might have caused the cancer to SHRINK.

Finally, our San Diego day came, and we got the big results. Drumroll please……

drumroll.gif

No change! The cancer is still not growing!

Now that I had my oncologist in person, I pressed him much harder. He said that he had just been in meetings with other oncologists about this very topic, and the consensus was… that there is no consensus. “There is a lot of information out there, but a lot of it doesn’t rise to a scientific standard. The “signal to noise ratio’ is out of whack.”

In short, there’s too much wheat, and not enough chaff, to know what’s scientifically true. I don’t know if that’s true, but that’s what he believes. So what do I do now???

I can’t draw any conclusions from my own one-month experiment, so until I get a more definitive answer, I’m not going to change what is working. Hello, mochas and ice cream! It’s great to see you again!

ice cream gif.gif

I’m going to put this question out to my online lung cancer groups, and see if anyone else has a more solid base for decision-making. Passions run deep on this issue, so my suspicion is that it will be a hot debate, which will produce a lot of heat, but very little light. 

I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, I hope you are making the most of every moment you have on this earth. It’s a gift worth treasuring.

Love,

Dann

NOTE: It's not too late to join the Lung Love Run/Walk! It's coming up this Saturday, June 23rd at Laurelhurst Park in Portland. We are raising awareness, and funding for lung cancer research.

Click here to join my team, Live Lung and Prosper.

I See Grief Counseling in my Future

Friends and Family,

One advantage to being a long-term survivor besides the obvious – I’m alive – is that it gives me more time to find new ways to help me stay alive even longer. I stumbled on this one when I was getting ready to start writing my next book. The plan was to talk with as many long-term survivors as I could find, and see if there were common factors in what they were doing to stay alive. I thought that if I coupled that with all the research I could find on the subject, it would be something that every survivor would want to read.

It turns out the book is already written! It’s called Radical Remission. It covers the nine factors that almost every long term survivor has in common. The first chapter is about diet. I have already made some pretty radical changes to my diet by going vegetarian even before I had cancer, reducing sugar and processed foods, and increasing fruits, vegetables and whole grains. But there was one more piece of my diet I wasn’t prepared to give up. What could possibly convince me to give up dairy?

It turns out that there is some older research that shows that in both a petri dish and in lab rats, feeding them a specific protein in milk can make cancer cells grow. In fact, in the rats, they could turn a rat’s cancer on or off by either feeding it this protein, or denying it the protein.

That got my attention. Sitting at an outdoor café table at a Starbucks and drinking my mocha, I started squirming in my seat. I was thinking about giving up anything that has this protein, called casein, in it. I started wondering what I was going to do for breakfast. Would I have to give up my morning bowl of cereal, and my protein shake?

No Milk.jpeg

I’m reading about the potential cancer-feeding ingredient in milk… while drinking a mocha. It wasn’t going down so smoothly any more.

As I packed up and headed to my car with the cup still in my hand, I started thinking about the cup of ice cream that I eat most nights before bed. NOW we’re talking about a serious loss. I may need grief counseling after this.

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By the time I got back to my house, I was ruminating about that tasty cheese still sitting in the refrigerator. As I threw away my mocha cup under the kitchen sink, I was brooding about the gaping hole this was going to create in my diet.

No_cheese.jpg

This all started about three weeks ago. There have been a few bumps along the way, like when I forgot that quiche is made mostly of milk and cheese, until I was halfway through eating it. (Yes, I finished it!) Then I tried my favorite salad bar near my office, only this time with just  a little cheese and something other than blue cheese dressing. By the next time I came back, I was off cheese altogether.

I had to keep reminding myself of how much this could mean to me. Could this change reverse my cancer? At the very least, could it mean that I could stay on the same treatment for even longer than I would otherwise, without any cancer growth? Maybe I would feel the loss, but I would need to find enough advantages to avoid needing grief counseling.

Three weeks out, I may be imagining it, but it feels like I’m breathing a little easier. I may also be imagining that I have a little more energy in the evenings. I’m kind-of-almost-eager to get my next CT scan to see if there is any shrinkage of the cancer, while also checking to see if my cholesterol is going down.

I have always thought that vegans may be healthy, but they would probably die of boredom. This is a challenge for me, since I have zero creativity with food. Fortunately for me, Genevieve didn’t skip a beat.

What an amazing woman! I don’t know if there has ever been another cancer survivor who has had the kind of support that I have had from Genevieve. Not a word of complaint. She just cooked up something that didn’t have any dairy in it. I bought almond milk to put in my cereal and protein shakes (the protein powder has whey protein, but no casein), and we moved on. We had a few meal-planning discussions, and within a few days we made a trip to Powell’s Books to get a few vegan cookbooks.

I can’t say that this is going to be easy, and I’m not going to be perfect. For instance, I’m not going to give up baked goods because there is some butter or milk in them. But that will be a trace amount of dairy compared to a gallon of milk and at least a half-gallon of ice cream every week, which add up to 52 gallons of milk and 26 gallons of ice cream a year. Now, if my CT scan shows that the cancer is shrinking, I would be willing to get that radical.

In the meantime, if you see me walking around looking lustfully at somebody’s hot mocha or Frappuccino, try to cut me a little slack. I’m still in mourning.

I miss coffee.jpg

Love,

Dann

NOTE: The Lung Love Run/Walk coming up on Saturday, June 23rd at Laurelhurst Park in Portland. We are raising awareness, and funding for lung cancer research.

Click here to join my team, Live Lung and Prosper.

If you would like to donate, click here.

And, even better, if you would like to form your own team, click here. 

My Tribute to Craig

Friends and Family,

Now that I have had a few days to think about this, I can move past feeling just the loss of my friend, and begin to celebrate his life. After all, Craig Blower not only impacted my life; he may also quite possibly have saved it.  And in the telling of the story of our friendship, you may see some things that could make a difference for you, too.

It was an unusual way to start a friendship. Genevieve and I were in San Diego for Christmas, where her extended family gathered every year. With time to kill, I started surfing the web, and came across a cancer blog. The guy had very similar experiences to my own, and he was a pretty funny writer. I instantly liked him. I discovered that he lived in San Diego. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity, so I reached out to him through his blog and arranged to meet for coffee.

We hit it off right away. Neither of us had met anyone else with lung cancer, and we both had adenocarcinoma with the EGFR mutation. We started on Tarceva at about the same time, and we even had radiation to our hips at about the same time. We swapped stories about our remarkably similar treatment course, our families, and our lives.

Over future visits to San Diego, we included our wives – both who are wonderfully supportive – in this expanded friendship. The more we talked, the more similarities we found. Not just age and treatment, but even things like going to Hawaii every year, remodeling our kitchens within months of each other, and being the youngest child in our large families before a younger sibling came along years later. Craig came to call all these freaky similarities a “Lincoln-Kennedy thing.”

Eventually, Craig’s treatment with Tarceva stopped being effective. His oncologist referred him to UCSD to participate in a new clinical trial. That is how Craig came to be the first person in the US to get started on a new targeted genetic treatment, AZD9291 (now Tagrisso).

The results were remarkable. After just six weeks of treatment, his new oncologist took his before/after CT results on a road show to other oncologists. Until that point it had been challenging to recruit treatment subjects, but Craig’s Fabulous Makeover results led to a quick spike in enrollment in the study.

Almost too quick, as it turns out, for me. Just a couple of months later, CT scan results showed new growth of my own cancer. My oncologist was scrunching up his face, looking at the floor, and telling me he really didn’t have any good options for me.

“What about AZD9291?,” I asked.

“That’s in clinical trial now?”

“Yes,” I said. “In New Hampshire and San Diego.”

“San Diego is a thousand miles away.”

That’s right,” I said.

I wasn’t going to let a thousand miles, or my oncologist’s lack of knowledge about this clinical trial, stand between me and life-saving treatment! As soon as I got home, I called Craig and got the contact info for the clinical trial. Early the next morning, he called to tell me that the clinical trial was going to stop taking new applicants very soon, so I had better act quickly. It turns out that I only had until the end of the day to submit all of my medical records for the past eight years. With an enhanced sense of urgency, I made the deadline by the skin of my teeth. Sixteen months later, the treatment is still working for me.

That wasn’t the last time Craig had a major influence on my life. The following Spring, I saw that there was a conference in Washington, D.C. called the LUNGevity HOPE Summit. It sounded interesting, but I told Craig that I would be more interested if he went. The expense was also a factor. He gave me good news on both counts: He was planning to attend, and I could apply to go to the conference with all expenses paid, since it would be my first time attending.

That tipped the scales. I went to the conference, which inspired me in ways I didn’t expect. After meeting all those incredible survivors who were doing so much for the cause (not to mention getting a better sense of all the things that Craig was doing), I came away with more hope, and with a stronger sense of how I could be an advocate for lung cancer myself. Since that time, I have become actively involved with www.lvng.org and their Facebook LVNG With Lung Cancer community, I have been interviewed for a couple of oncology waiting-room newspapers and magazines, done public speaking, and volunteered with the American Lung Association. Had Craig told me he wasn’t going to the HOPE Summit, and not mentioned that I could go for free, all of these wonderful changes in my life might not have happened.

A year ago, Craig started getting some growth in his cancer again. At first it was questionable, but from the beginning it was enough to worry him that he could get kicked out of the clinical trial. Each scan after that showed a little bit more growth here, then a little more there. Craigshared that he contacted one EGFR guru, but the specialist didn’t have time to see someone for a one-off consultation. It seemed as if Craig started hanging on even tighter to his only lifeline, which was the clinical trial he was in. His oncologist didn’t have any new ideas for him, other than to radiate new spots as they popped up.

While Craig's oncologist was telling him there was nothing else out there, I was feeling pretty helpless as his friend. In desperation, I started urging him to get a biopsy and a second opinion. The biopsy would tell if another targeted genetic treatment might work for him, and the second opinion might tell him if there was some idea his doctor had missed. However, given the choice between trusting your oncologist, who could kick you off the treatment that you believe is saving your life, and following the advice of a friend with no medical training, it’s easy to see why he stuck with doctor’s orders. Eventually his doctor did a biopsy, and they found that he had a genetic mutation that could be treated in a new clinical trial. However, the trial was in Boston. Craig scheduled his initial appointment, but it was already too late. By then, his health was too compromised to travel. As Kim said around that time, he was fading in and out of lucidity from the pain meds.

It was right at that time, a week before Craig passed, that I had another appointment with my oncologist in San Diego. Genevieve and I arranged with Craig’s wife, Kim, to see Craig on our way from the airport to my appointment. It broke my heart when she told me on the phone that Craig was worried that he would disappoint me, because he didn’t make it to Boston. I made sure to tell him that I was sorry he wasn’t able to go, but that it would not have been humanly possible to get there.

I also thanked him for quite possibly saving my life, but he dismissed it with a wave of the hand. “You would have found another way.”

I am pleased to say that I had better success with his acceptance of my final words to him:

Thank you for being my friend.

Love,

Dann

*** A Special Request - UPDATED ***

I'm participating in an event to raise money to fight lung cancer - and I need your help! 

I will be attending the LUNGevity Foundation's National HOPE Summit in Washington, DC, in May - it's a special conference just for lung cancer survivors like me. Since I was able to raise $1000 or more in donations, LUNGevity will cover my travel expenses, including US round-trip transportation and hotel accommodations. However, I have raised the bar, and I am trying to raise as much as I can for LUNGevity. AND NOW THERE IS AN ADDED INCENTIVE.

THIS IS THE NEW PART: The wonderful, compassionate, and very supportive partners at the real estate brokerage in Portland where I work, Macadam Forbes, are offering a MATCHING GRANT. FROM TODAY FORWARD, THEY WILL MATCH ANY NEW DONATION, DOLLAR FOR DOLLAR, UP TO $500. If you give $10, you will be raising $20 for LUNGevity. If you give $100, you will be raising $200.

Proceeds from this fundraiser will benefit LUNGevity Foundation, the leading private provider of research funding for lung cancer. LUNGevity Foundation is firmly committed to making an immediate impact on increasing quality of life and survivorship of people with lung cancer by accelerating research into early detection and more effective treatments, as well as providing community, support, and education for all those affected by the disease.

If you wish to donate, please go to my LUNGevity page: http://lungevity.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=15681

Outing Myself

Friends and Family,

There’s something I’ve often thought about writing about, but until now, I didn’t have the courage to share with you. But after over nine years of living with lung cancer, I am finally ready to “out” myself.

No, I’m not going to tell you that I am going transgender, or that I just discovered that I’m not white. I’m not coming out as a closet Donald Trump supporter, either. My coming out is nothing quite so trendy or colorful. It’s just a lot riskier for me, because it might affect what you think of me.

You all know me as the guy with the healthy lifestyle: Lots of exercise, healthy vegetarian diet, positive attitude, and taking in all the love and support that comes from you, and in particular, Genevieve.

What most of you don’t know, is that 35 years ago, I used to smoke.

Very often, the first knee-jerk response to telling someone that I have lung cancer is to get the stunned question, “Do you smoke?” I usually reply, “No, and the kind of cancer I have is unrelated to smoking. 18% of all lung cancers are among people who have never smoked.”

I admit that I’m dodging the question. What they really want to know is, “did you ever smoke?,” because, in their minds, lung cancer = smoking.

But telling people would confuse the issue. I learned from my oncologists and pulmonologists that my smoking history had nothing to do with my lung cancer. I came to the same conclusion after years of internet searches. My smoking history was too long ago, and too brief (off and on through college), to have been a culprit. As confirmation for what my doctors told me, the specific genetic mutations in my cancer are not associated with smoking.

But so what? Why not tell people that I used to smoke anyway?

I’ve given you the rational reason, which is that it just confuses the issue, and provides an educational moment. But the much harder reason is emotional.

When I was first diagnosed, I asked myself, “what did I do to deserve this? How did I cause it?” I blamed myself. In my cause-and-effect world, it was the only way I could make sense of it. The guilt was overwhelming.  Never mind the facts: If I had cancer, it must be my own fault. Guilt being one of my strong suits to begin with, this time I had it in spades. If I tried to explain that I smoked, but that it had nothing to do with my cancer, I would expect people to doubt me… and that’s all it would take for me to pile more guilt on myself.

If the natural response is to blame yourself, think how much harder this would be if smoking really did cause your cancer. This is a burden I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Any nobody - nobody - deserves lung cancer.

It’s easier to give smokers and former-smokers a break when you look at how people start smoking. Using myself as an example, I grew up in a house where both of my parents, and all three of my older siblings, smoked. I tried smoking briefly when I was twelve, but didn’t get hooked until college. There, I was hanging out with other students in bars and smoking after night classes, and taking “smoke breaks” with my friends at the restaurant where I worked. All that stuff about role modeling and peer pressure can be seen in action right here.

But there’s more. Did you know that our judgment doesn’t fully mature until we’re well into our twenties?(1)  That explains a lot of early-twenties behavior, doesn’t it? We are more susceptible to bad judgment, such as mine was (and there are soooo many more examples), before we have fully grown up. Tobacco companies have marketed to teens and young adults (remember Joe Camel?), and they get hooked before their judgment matures. How many people do you know that started smoking after the age of 25?

Now, put these two pieces together: Smoking is as addictive as heroin, and we get addicted before we have reliable judgment.

What’s so odd is that smoking causes so many other problems, but there isn’t the same knee-jerk blaming response when the diagnosis is something other than cancer. If someone gets heart disease or has a stroke, can you imagine asking if the person smoked? Would you ask if someone had an aneurysm, COPD, or diabetes? How about if they had osteoporosis, rheumatoid arthritis, age-related macular degeneration, or cataracts, or if their asthma symptoms got worse?(2)

So let’s have some compassion for the smokers and former smokers, whether their smoking was the cause of their cancer or not. Let’s do it in the same way as we take it easy on people with heart disease and those who have had strokes. We can, and should, work to prevent all these health problems. Smoking prevention and smoking cessation strategies are critical. So is routine screening of people with smoking histories, so that cancers can be caught when they are far less advanced, and the treatment outcomes are so much more promising.

I have chosen to “out” myself now, because I have made too many new friends with lung cancer that are former smokers, and who have suffered through tremendous guilt and shame that should never be a part of dealing with a life-threatening disease. I have heard stories of blunt comments that are at a minimum thoughtless, and at times outright brutal. Isn’t having cancer enough, without adding the accusation that it is self-inflicted?

I want to make clear that you, my friends, have been wonderfully supportive. I have not had the soul-wrenching experience of so many of my peers. I have had a few questions that I chalked up to simply being too stunned at learning that I have lung cancer to ask a better question than whether I smoke. So, just to make sure you’re not caught without a supportive response if you’re ever in this situation again, here are a few options:

  1. I’m sorry to hear that. How are you handling it?

  2. What are the next steps?

  3. Do you have people around you to support you?

  4. What can I do to help?

It’s time to end the stigma. Let’s replace it with a little compassion.

Love,

Dann

*** A Special Request - UPDATED ***

I'm participating in an event to raise money to fight lung cancer - and I need your help! 

I will be attending the LUNGevity Foundation's National HOPE Summit in Washington, DC, in May - it's a special conference just for lung cancer survivors like me. Since I was able to raise $1000 or more in donations, LUNGevity will cover my travel expenses, including US round-trip transportation and hotel accommodations. However, I have raised the bar, and I am trying to raise as much as I can for LUNGevity. AND NOW THERE IS AN ADDED INCENTIVE.

THIS IS THE NEW PART: The wonderful, compassionate, and very supportive partners at the real estate brokerage in Portland where I work, Macadam Forbes, are offering a MATCHING GRANT. FROM TODAY FORWARD, THEY WILL MATCH ANY NEW DONATION, DOLLAR FOR DOLLAR, UP TO $500. If you give $10, you will be raising $20 for LUNGevity. If you give $100, you will be raising $200.

Proceeds from this fundraiser will benefit LUNGevity Foundation, the leading private provider of research funding for lung cancer. LUNGevity Foundation is firmly committed to making an immediate impact on increasing quality of life and survivorship of people with lung cancer by accelerating research into early detection and more effective treatments, as well as providing community, support, and education for all those affected by the disease.

If you wish to donate, please go to my LUNGevity page: http://lungevity.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=15681

  1. 1.C. Lebel, C. Beaulieu. Longitudinal Development of Human Brain Wiring Continues from Childhood into Adulthood. Journal of Neuroscience, 2011; 31 (30): 10937 DOI: 10.1523/JNEUROSCI.5302-10.2011

  2. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. The Health Consequences of Smoking—50 Years of Progress: A Report of the Surgeon General, 2014. Atlanta, GA: U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion, Office on Smoking and Health, 2014.