A significant development in the treatment of advanced melanoma has recently emerged: tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte (TIL) therapy, a novel approach harnessing the power of a patient’s own immune system. In 2024, a first-of-its-kind drug was approved by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for patients whose cancer has progressed after other treatments.

In this issue of *CURE*, we highlight the details of this groundbreaking treatment, explaining how it differs from traditional immunotherapy and targeted therapies. You’ll learn about the steps involved, from tumor removal and T-cell manufacturing to the infusion process and the role of high-dose interleukin-2 in boosting the immune response, as well as crucial postinfusion care.

While TIL therapy presents a promising new avenue, it’s important for patients to understand both its potential benefits and its challenges. A key advantage is that it’s designed as a one-time treatment, potentially offering a lasting response without the need for continuous therapy. However, the treatment is rigorous, requires a substantial time commitment and is currently available only at a limited number of medical centers. Additionally, the cost of TIL therapy is significant, although financial assistance programs are being explored.

You’ll hear from experts who dive into this exciting advancement, as it offers a personalized and potentially impactful approach for patients who have limited options. Further, as research continues, this innovative strategy may hold promise for other cancers as well, expanding the arsenal of tools available in cancer care.

Also in this issue, we recognize our 2025 Extraordinary Healer® award winner, Kaifan Zhao, AGACNP-BC, PMHNP-BC, for his dedication to making a difference in the lives of patients and their loved ones. The event, held during the 50th Annual Oncology Nursing Society Congress, also featured a keynote lecture from journalist, podcaster and author Amy Robach. “You are walking with \[patients with cancer] during the scariest time of their lives,” she said. “They are afraid for their lives. They are afraid to think about tomorrow. They’re fighting for tomorrow, and you are there as their backbone, as their support, as their light,” she said.

If you are inspired by the testaments shared by our Extraordinary Healer finalists, essay nominations for the 2026 award ceremony are now open on curetoday.com. It is with your nominations that we can recognize the amazing feats of our oncology nursing community.

Staying informed is a powerful tool in your cancer journey. For the very latest updates in oncology, including breaking news on FDA approvals and expert perspectives on key cancer information, turn to curetoday.com.

We are dedicated to ensuring you have the information you need to navigate your cancer experience with clarity. Within these pages and on our website, you’ll find both personal narratives that resonate and expert opinions that provide context. We hope this information serves you well and offers encouragement. Thank you for your continued readership.

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Tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte (TIL) therapy represents a significant advancement in advanced melanoma treatment, utilizing a patient's immune system. The FDA approved a pioneering drug in 2024 for patients with treatment-resistant cancer. TIL therapy, distinct from traditional immunotherapy, involves tumor removal, T-cell manufacturing, and infusion, with high-dose interleukin-2 enhancing immune response. Despite its promise, TIL therapy is rigorous, costly, and limited in availability. The approach offers a personalized treatment option, with potential applications in other cancers. The issue also highlights the 2025 Extraordinary Healer® award and encourages essay nominations.

A significant development in the treatment of advanced melanoma has recently emerged: tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte (TIL) therapy.

A New Frontier in Melanoma Treatment

Mike Hennessy Jr.

I wrote this letter to cancer because my brother died too early. I was there along his journey to see him affected by cancer. He was always so happy, tall and strong until the day he was told he had prostate cancer. His journey hit me and my family hard. It took his life — and a huge piece of my heart —away. I watched him take his last breath and I will never forget it. I pray for all those who have this disease that a cure will be found, and lives will be saved.

You have claimed my brother, his wife, my grandfather and a good friend. You entered my world one day when my immediate family, my brother, said he had prostate cancer. I was so devastated you came. 

You took away a precious soul and left me with a huge hole. I wished to have my brother here today to age with him another day. Watching him go from doctor to doctor, clinic to clinic, it never ended. His countenance changed from day to day — sometimes up, but most of the time down.

Everything was going fine until the day cancer came. It also came another other time way back when my grandpa said he had pain. It ended up the same prostrate cancer is the name.

But I saw my brother try to stay strong, working and loving his life as it came. He fought and fought, and I thought, and I thought, we thought he would beat this beastly thing. I just knew he had it in him! He was a fighter!

Then, one day he fell so ill that his pain medicines could not stop the pain. The cancer was still growing, and it was calling his name. If I could have just given him a magic position, his family and I would not be sharing our memories today.

It was not long before cancer called his name. He fought a good fight, and did the best he could, but this disease called prostrate cancer had another answer. Prostrate cancer took his life but, I will always remember his fight. You fought hard; I saw you! I prayed for you.

My brother’s name will go down the same as those who fought this vicious game. For each person out there, I pray for you the same. Maybe cancer is present in your body, but the game may not be played the same, and hopefully you will win the battle that came to be claimed. Hold on to your loved ones, always try to understand their pain. I am praying for a cure today in my brother’s name, in my grandfather’s name and his wife and my friend the same. The runs, the marathons, the walks, we will not forget! They deserve a badge of honor in my books. Research, please act sooner cancer is claiming our loved ones and who knows who will be next.

This post was written and submitted by Angela Pinkins. The article reflects the views Pinkins and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

I wrote this letter to cancer because my brother died too early. 

Dear Cancer, I Know Your Name

Angela Pinkins

Valarie Traynham discusses some of ways her life has changed since being diagnoses with cancer, and what parts of her identity have remained the same.

Living With Intention After a Cancer Diagnosis

A cancer diagnosis alters the course of a person’s life, something that Valarie Traynham, a cancer thriver and patient advocate, is no stranger to following her cancer diagnoses of both breast cancer and multiple myeloma.

She says that from her diagnosis to now, her life has shifted from a from a focus on survival to a focus on living with more intention. This experience, for Traynham in particular, has shifted her focuses to now being more mindful of how exactly she spends her time, protecting her peace and saying no when needed. However, she cites one of her biggest changes as her sense of purpose that she has garnered through patient advocacy.

To delve further into this topic, CURE sat down for an interview with Traynham to discuss how her diagnosis has altered the way she lives everyday life. She ends the conversation by reinforcing that though she has changed both emotionally and physically, her core identity remains grounded in faith, community and her desire to help others.

What are some of the most significant ways your life has changed since treatment, and what parts of your identity or daily routine have remained the same?

Looking back on my journey with myeloma and breast cancer, life has shifted in significant ways. Initially, it was about mere survival — getting through the shock of not one, but two diagnoses, and enduring the treatments. Everything seemed to come at once, very fast. However, over time, I've noticed that it has become more about how I live.

I've learned to be more intentional with my time; with the things I say yes to and the things I say no to. My "no" muscle has become very strong, and I've also learned to protect my peace. I no longer take things for granted; again, it goes back to being intentional. But I think one of the biggest changes I've found on this cancer journey is that I've discovered my purpose. What started as figuring out how to navigate my own diagnosis has truly turned into a deeper commitment to helping others do the same. My advocacy work has allowed me to take everything I've experienced and turn it around to give back and help others.

At the same time, parts of my life haven't changed. My faith, for instance, remains my strong foundation; it's what keeps me going every day. I still find strength in my community, and I still enjoy showing up for others, being there to help them in their time of need. While this journey has changed me, it hasn't altered me to the core of who I really am. Instead, it has allowed me to be part of something bigger, stretched my faith, and enabled me to make connections that have totally changed my life.

Transcript has been edited for clarity and conciseness.

Valarie Traynham is a cancer thriver and serves as a patient advocate following her diagnoses of multiple myeloma and breast cancer.

Valarie Traynham 

I was diagnosed with stage 3C breast cancer in 2004 at age 34, before mindfulness had become a buzzword.When my oncology social worker suggested mindfulness meditation, I scoffed. I made it only five minutes into the old cassette tape she had given me before abandoning the effort.

Even prior to my diagnosis, I could barely sit still, and my mind was always racing. With my anxiety sky-high as I faced the prospect of leaving my husband alone to raise our infant and toddler, there was no way I could be calm or still. How could I possibly “empty” my mind? 

Fast forward to 2023. I'm now a clinical social worker in private practice, approaching the 19th anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, with kids off at college. I encourage my clients — cancer survivors and others — to incorporate mindfulness in their daily lives. As I now know, being mindful is not about emptying your mind, and doesn't have to be part of a formal meditation practice. It's about being fully awareand trying to be non-judgmentalof what your mind and body are experiencing.

As I learned about mindfulness in graduate school and training courses, I realized that it was during my cancer treatment that I had first practiced mindfulness without even knowing it. It was late spring 2005, and I was sitting on our deck, feeling grateful to have made it through my last chemo treatment but frustrated with lingering nausea and worried about recurrence. As a cool breeze started on that sunny afternoon, I was suddenly fully aware of the air brushing across my cheek.I tuned in to the sensation of the warm sun and cool breeze on my skin, to the sound of rustling leaves and my kids laughing.

While the nausea and fear didn't disappear, the attention I gave them shrunk; nausea was one sensation among many, worry was joined by delight and gratitude. I could choose to focus on the more pleasurable experiences I was having, which helped the distressing ones feel less overwhelming.

While I wish I had grasped mindfulness before my cancer diagnosis, I'm grateful that my visceral experience that spring day taught me how much it can help.


This post was written and submitted by Melissa Pantel-Ku. The article reflects the views of Melissa Pantel-Ku and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

When mindfulness was first recommended when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004, I scoffed. But now, years later, I know how important a tool it can be.  

The Meaning of Mindfulness During Cancer

Melissa Pantel-Ku

I was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2011. It didn’t look good. Dr. Abraham Chachoua kept me alive long enough to get me into the 2015 drug trial for Opdivo (nivolumab) at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. I had such bad side effects that I didn’t finish the trial. But it worked.

My last CT scan showed no cancer. He is my hero.

A lung cancer survivor shares a heartfelt tribute to Dr. Abraham Chachoua, who changed his life.

Guiding the Way for Patients With Lung Cancer: 'He Is my Hero'

Timothy J. Barry

With five weeks between two nodules being found in my right breast, then biopsies, tests, and then my double mastectomy with DIEP reconstruction, I felt like I was drowning. I found out about special shirts that open in the front, with pockets for the surgical drains, and shirts with zippers positioned for easy port access. However, when I Googled retail stores to go look at them, there were none. I lived in Long Island, New York, and was willing to drive to New Jersey or Connecticut to be able to touch, see, and feel the shirts before buying them, but there were no brick-and-mortar stores in the tristate area.

I was forced to purchase several types of shirts online, which I ended up not using because either they just didn’t work for me, or I didn’t like how they fit.

During chemotherapy and twice-a-week hydration sessions, my husband and I had a lot of time on our hands. We discussed the easy access to wig banks but no access to the specialized shirts in any store. Overtime, we came up with the concept of a clothing bank similar to wig banks, where women could come and borrow these specialized shirts, padded seatbelt covers, and heart-shaped pillows — free of charge, to aid in recovery.

While I sat, hooked up to the IV’s, we started to discuss the logistics of starting the cancer recovery clothing bank. I found a basic business plan online and started my research. The Chabad where I attended religious services had opened the Circle of Hope for patients with breast cancer (providing wigs, kosher meals and free counseling), which is where I was able to get my wigs. I showed the Rabbi and Rebitzen the business plan and explained my thoughts of how a clothing bank would be an addition to what was already established.

They thought it was a great idea and fully backed it. However, I had to raise money to get the shirts. Just after we started to fundraise, the COVID-19 pandemic started. We had raised $150, and we were dead in the water. Everything was in chaos in the world, and donating money was the last thing on everyone’s minds. Fortunately, during the High Holy Holidays of 2019, someone at the Chabad heard about what we were planning and made a significant donation. In one day, we went from being dead in the water to being able to buy shirts and accessories. So, Dress for Recovery opened in Merrick, New York, in December of 2020.

Personally, I felt a need to give back. My radiologist is the reason why my two breast cancers were found at the end of stage 1 and not stage 4. Because I had three prior benign biopsies, he had me on six-month sonogram check-ups between mammograms. I had two cancers — HER2 negative and HER2 positive, and they were growing like rapid fire.

When I was struggling with the decision of lumpectomy, single or double mastectomy, this wonderful radiologist spent over an hour on the phone with me and helped me not only make my decision of a double mastectomy but also helped me to be 100% at peace with my decision.

When people think of chemotherapy, they think of people losing weight and vomiting. Reactions to chemotherapy can take a few hours to 72 hours. I was completely terrified. A friend of over 50 years, who I thought I could count on, disappeared. She honestly thought that she was there for me, but that is not how I felt. However, other people stepped up to help out and stay with me so my husband could go to work and not lose his job. Friends took days off from work, people who I worked with years before my cancer, spent the day with me so I would not be alone. They cared for someone in need.

Therefore, I felt a need to pay forward the kindness that had been shown to me, and that is why I wanted to start Dress for Recovery. Once we were up and running, it felt good to talk with and help women who had recently been diagnosed and were as terrified as I had been. I think I consciously chose to put my energy into being thankful and trying to pass along what I learned because I would not be alive today if my cancers were not found at the six-month stage of growth and did not get the advice and help from so many people who assisted me.

I hope that the idea of clothing banks takes off the way that wig banks did so every person can have easy access to these specialized items.

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A cancer survivor faced challenges in finding specialized clothing for post-surgery recovery, leading to the creation of a clothing bank, Dress for Recovery, in Merrick, New York. This initiative, inspired by the lack of physical retail options and the support received during her treatment, provides free access to specialized recovery garments. Despite initial fundraising setbacks due to the COVID-19 pandemic, a significant donation enabled the project's launch. The clothing bank aims to offer the same accessibility as wig banks, helping others navigate their recovery journey with dignity and comfort.

After my breast cancer treatment, I started a clothing bank to give others free access to recovery items like post-surgery shirts and pillows.

Making Something Positive out of Breast Cancer

Loraine Alderman 

I would like to nominate Brandi Riber to be considered for the designation of Metastatic Breast Cancer Hero.

Having known Brandi as a child and seeing her mature into a beautiful, strong, determined woman has been a privilege. Her story is unique in that she has not only been battling the disease herself for 11 years, but she also cares for patients with cancer in her job as an oncology nurse. Brandi has been known to perform her duties at work while connected to an IV that is pumping in her own chemo treatment. She has been on nine clinical trials and throughout the ups and downs has done her best to maintain a positive attitude.

Brandi faces her challenges with fierce determination while balancing life as a single mom of a teenage daughter, Morgan. Brandi and her ex-husband, Adam, try to maintain a loving family life for their child.

Brandi’s parents are my dearest friends. They have been a source of strength and support for their daughter as she goes through all the highs and lows of a cancer diagnosis, trials and treatment. My heart goes out to them as they assist her in trying to make her life as “normal” as it can be.

My husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2012, and he and Brandi became very close as a support system for each other. He always told Brandi that he admired her attitude and her willingness to try any type of treatment so that others may benefit from a cure.

I believe Brandi is a Metastatic Breast Cancer Hero. I hope you will consider my nomination.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Brandi Riber, RN, died shortly after the Metastatic Breast Cancer Heroes™ awards program in December 2021. Our thoughts go out to her family and friends.

Knowing my friend Brandi since she was a child, I am in awe of how she balanced undergoing treatment for metastatic breast cancer while caring for other patients as an oncology nurse.

Facing the Unique Challenges of Cancer With Fierce Determination

Karen Poland

Jessica Smith, B.S.N., RN, OCN, has been an oncology nurse for 27 years. Jessica began her career on our blood and marrow transplant (BMT) unit and continues to provide personalized, compassionate care to her patients as a direct care oncology nurse.

I am her nurse manager, and I have known Jessica since 2011 when I was a direct care oncology nurse. At that time, she was my nurse preceptor. Jessica is professional, knowledgeable and efficient. She serves numerous roles in BMT. She is a preceptor to new staff, she is a charge nurse, and she serves on a shared governance council. Jessica maintains her professional oncology certification and her nursing clinical ladder.

As a preceptor to new nurses, Jessica consistently goes above and beyond to provide concise, comprehensible oncology education to new team members. Jessica gives honest, in-the-moment feedback to her peers to provide an open-communication environment.

She answers questions and provides opportunities to new team members using innovative, thoughtful instruction. Jessica has a spirit of inquiry and frequently reaches out to the advanced practice provider, attending physician, clinical nurse specialist, clinical trial teams or nursing leadership to find the answers to her questions. Jessica is compassionate and caring, and she strives for high-quality patient outcomes. Jessica continually has conversations with the members of the health care team and provides solutions when patient care challenges arise. She is known for expertly searching for policies, clinical guidelines and unit-specific standards.

Jessica has served on numerous shared governance committees over the years and currently serves on the patient care council. As a council member, Jessica serves as the nurse assigned to the BMT unit to complete skin prevalence rounds, a nurse-led assessment of our 

patient’s skin status. Jessica approaches every patient during these rounds and immediately helps them feel comfortable with the assessment process. She engages with compassion and a healing attitude as she ensures the unit is providing the best care possible.

Jessica has created a group education class for central venous catheter line teaching to all patients and caregivers. This two-hour, hands-on class involves step-by-step line care instruction and demonstration. Jessica schedules time beyond her regular work hours to engage and support patient care and education endeavors.

Jessica is passionate about communicating best practices and advances in skill compe- tence to provide the best nursing care. She constantly engages in new learning opportunities and educational experiences to have a better understanding of the ever-changing world of patient care. As I reflect on the unpredictability of the COVID-19 pandemic over the past few years, I am grateful for Jessica’s willingness to assist her team, her steadfast support of colleagues, and her unwavering dependability and focus on patients.

Jessica is an excellent resource who is committed to increasing her knowledge of the nursing profession. Jessica is invested in the success of each of the new employees that she precepts. She is optimistic, confident and a great listener. She often gives employees and patients an outlet to express their fears, frustrations, anxieties and successes. Her positive attitude offers motivation for new employees to excel.

Jessica excels at providing holistic care to provide health and healing to the complex patients on the BMT unit. Jessica exemplifies our framework for nursing practice, Relationship-Based Care, by caring for the patients and family members, her colleagues, herself and her community. Jessica is known as the expert on the BMT unit. Her peers ask for her guidance and feedback. Her patients are comforted by her knowledge and insistence on nursing excellence. Jessica instills hope within her patients by providing personalized patient care with a calm, caring character. Jessica’s self-awareness, excellent communication skills and willingness to help others build trust with her patients and their family members.

Jessica Smith, B.S.N., RN, OCN, has been an oncology nurse for 27 years and continues to provide personalized, compassionate care to her patients as a direct care oncology nurse.

Combining Oncology Teaching With Compassion

Amy Tootle, M.S., B.S.N., RN

In September of 1997, I was given a diagnosis of stage 4 non-Hodgkin lymphoma. I was told it was non-curable, recurrent, and could mutate to a more aggressive type after treatment that is if I did not succumb to infection due to immunosuppression from chemotherapy. I knew that all decisions would be final and that my best shot had to be taken then. All goals and dreams were abandoned in a matter of seconds. Every moment took on a new kind of importance as being the last time to do, to see, to act, and to be. I would never be the same person. What would ever be normal again?

I was placed on a clinical trial and throughout it, I had to work to stay insured and to pay the expenses with one son graduating and another entering college plus a supportive husband. I chose to live against the cancer (not with it), to defeat the Devil, that had invaded my temple, to be a survivor, not a victim.

Surviving does not mean the impact is gone. The battle continues. Time is precious and God is in control of the exact amount.

My poem, “Precious Time,” was written in August 28, 1998, with nearly a year into the fight.

This post was written and submitted by Karen Engledow. The article reflects the views of Engledow and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

Throughout my experience with stage 4 non-Hodgkin lymphoma, I realized that time is precious to me. 

Realizing How Precious Time is During Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma

Karen Engledow

It has felt strange, I have to admit. The first time I had cancer at 59, it was triple-negative breast cancer. It was aggressive but considered stage 1. And then, 13 years later, I was diagnosed with a separate cancer: ovarian, stage 4.

The fear the words “cancer, stage 1,” created that first time was as real and as solid as if they had said it was stage 4. Because your mind just goes to the endpoint, doesn’t it? I didn’t know it at the time, but my first diagnosis paved my way into accepting the battle of my second diagnosis and taught me some important lessons along the way.

The first time around, I took it all very seriously and went through what were the standard treatments.At the end of the chemo, we added a taxane for “extra credit.” I had discussed with my oncologist recent studies that showed triple-negative breast cancer might need to be treated differently. She took me seriously which I very much appreciated. That’s when I learned that you have to like and trust your oncologist. That first time, I wanted to do everything right, to not have to deal with this again. I’m not sure why, but I think I thought, “Well, that’s my one time with cancer. Thank God I got that over and done.”

It was a defining experience for me, as many cancer diagnoses are. I had been lucky — very, very, lucky. I had been able to work throughout my treatment. The second time around, I was retired, and that was a lot easier.

The time after treatment is always difficult. For a few years, I would go to my six-month or annual checkup and wonder if I would have bad news. Soon it became 10-plus years, and I did not worry about it as much.

While I had not been feeling quite right, I ascribed it to many things; getting older (72), going on a new prescription drug, you name it. The diagnosis was speedy. I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Yikes. All of a sudden, I was plunged into all the feelings that I had the first time around, but this time there was no mental exit door labeled “stage 1.” Maybe I was also experiencing a form of PTSD, I don’t know. But I got into the “I can do it” mindset that had been so useful the first time around. In addition, my close circle of friends and family became even closer. I called them my Valkyries for their way of wildly riding into the rescue. I got them T-shirts, saying, “Angels? Yeah right, send me some Valkyries.”

It has been over two years since my ovarian cancer diagnosis. I’m now on a PARP inhibitor, a maintenance drug that I hope is a miracle drug.

Every three months I go in for a blood test to see if cancer has returned, reemerged or whatever. I call it my three-month lease.I can’t help but worry, and this fear is always in the background. It comes to the fore in the week or two before the next test. But I try to use up the rest of the time like a normal person. Sometimes that works. I learned the first time around not to delay doing the fun things. I took a trip to Italy; drove to Montana to see my niece’s new baby boy, dove into watercolor.

Maybe I should be grateful for that first experience with cancer. While the shock of the diagnosis the second time around was powerful, I think I’m just a little calmer this time. I know something about the roller coaster I am getting on. I am bracing for a wild ride. Along the way, I know I am going to need help and I’m especially grateful to receive it. Asking for help is never easy, the second time around it is easier.

Now, when I read about people’s experiences, I realize that it can be so much worse than my personal experience. I had an inkling of that when I had stage 1 cancer because I had a weekend where they thought a lung nodule meant that it had metastasized to my lungs, and I had to have a biopsy. It was not a fun weekend waiting for those results. That Saturday and Sunday gave me an insight into what I would be thinking about when faced with a dire diagnosis. A dress rehearsal so to speak, just like what my first cancer diagnosis was for my second.

I think my experiences show you can adapt to bad news. You can learn and you can cope. Things can always be worse. And sometimes, they can be better.

This post was written and submitted by a CURE reader. The article reflects the views the author and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

After my treatment ended for triple-negative breast cancer, I thought I was done with cancer — and then I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. 

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