+
“A balm for the soul”
  review on Goodreads
GOOD PEOPLE Book
upworthy

Sarah Watts

Badge
Adobe
Adobe
Technology

Here’s how one nonprofit org is using Adobe to change the world

Adobe empowers nonprofits to fundraise, advocate, and further their missions.

True

In 2024, it’s practically impossible to function as a nonprofit without the right digital resources. Nonprofits use computer systems and applications for things like education, fundraising, engaging clients, and communicating with donors. However, with limited funding and expertise, it's often difficult to get the digital tools they need to fully support their missions.

The planet needs nonprofit organizations, and nonprofits need better digital tools. For decades, Adobe has provided nonprofits with the tools they need to fulfill their mission—helping them with everything from social media advocacy to educational videos to graphic design. Now, Adobe is offering the pro version of Adobe Acrobat for Nonprofits, the most requested and comprehensive set of document and e-signature tools, for just $15 per user per year, which represents a 94% annual savings off the regular price. This will make it easier than ever for nonprofits to streamline business processes and increase their impact with engaging educational and fundraising assets – from annual reports, contracts and grant submissions to brochures and white papers.

Keep reading to hear more about how Adobe helped one nonprofit improve efficiencies and giveback potential – and how you can start using Adobe tools today for your organization.

A nonprofit success story

Albert Manero, a mechanical engineer and graduate of the University of Central Florida, founded Limbitless Solutions, Inc., as a passion project in a small lab. Today, Limbitless is celebrating its 10-year anniversary and has grown into an interdisciplinary team based at the University of Central Florida in Orlando that includes 50 interns with nine different fields of expertise. Their mission? To inspire and empower underserved communities through creative, accessible technology.

Manero and his team of experts create bionic, 3D-printed arms for children with limb differences. Combining visual storytelling with art and engineering, the Limbitless team wants children with limb differences to feel included and capable, while at the same time, able to express their personal identity more fully. Developing bionic arms covered in flowers or designed like Iron Man’s armor, kids with these bionic limbs can not only grip objects, hold hands and more, but can feel empowered to be themselves.

Using Adobe to make a difference

Limbitless, like many others, has utilized Adobe for Nonprofits offerings, which gives nonprofit organizations access to Adobe programs at a deeply discounted rate, including access programs like Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Express and Adobe Acrobat as well as Adobe’s 3D tools.

Adobe solutions are the oil that keeps organizations running smoothly behind the scenes. For the grant application and reporting processes, employees at Limbitless have credited Adobe Acrobat with helping the team secure funding and communicating clearly with donors and partners. With Acrobat, they’re able to create, edit, and manage PDF documents that look professional and polished. The company has also transitioned most of its internal documentation to digital formats using Acrobat. This includes everything from design blueprints, brand guidelines, intern contracts, and user manuals for bionic limbs.

Better tech for a better future

In addition to helping day-to-day operations run smoothly, Adobe has also helped bring Limbitless’ mission of inclusion and accessibility outside of office walls.

Using Adobe Express, the fast and easy create-anything app, Limbitless has been able to create quick how-to videos for young patients and their families that showcase how to use their bionic limbs, as well as a series of videos promoting STEAM (science, technology, engineering art and math) education. The company’s Operations, Advocacy, and Logistics team utilizes Express as well, developing content and visual assets for their social media accounts. Recently, Limbitless partnered with the Adobe Express’ Animate Characters team to create six unique, limb-different selectable avatar characters for their educational outreach and social media campaigns.

And Adobe is helping Limbitless empower kids with limb differences, too: Limbitless’ comic series, Bionic Kid, was created using Adobe Illustrator and features a superhero with limb differences who uses a Limbitless prosthetic arm. This inspired a fundraising concept initiated from the idea by a Limbitless prosthetic recipient Zachary Pamboukas, which has been used in fundraising efforts for more bionic arms and has already raised over $20,000.

Inside the organization and out, Adobe is enabling people to reach their full potential, contributing to better nonprofit organizations and, overall, a better world.

Learn more about the new Adobe Acrobat for Nonprofits offering and explore more ways Adobe can help your organization today.

From Your Site Articles
Badge
Pfizer
Pfizer
#ScienceWillWin

Here’s a personal look at how families and researchers use science to take on rare genetic diseases

Photo courtesy of Unsplash
True

When Kelly Mantoan got the news that her 1-year-old son, Fulton, had spinal muscular atrophy (SMA) – a rare and progressive genetic disease – she was devastated. More difficult news came just a few months later when she gave birth to her newborn son, Teddy, at 32 weeks. As she sat with him in the neonatal intensive care unit shortly after his birth, doctors confirmed that Teddy had tested positive for SMA as well.

"I was sobbing uncontrollably," Kelly remembers. "[My husband and I] hadn't even fully come to terms with Fulton's diagnosis, and now we have two kids with it."

The Mantoans knew little about SMA – only that the condition involved the loss of motor neurons in the spinal cord due to a defect on the SMN1 gene. The SMN1 defect, the couple learned, meant the boys were unable to produce a protein called SMN, or "survival motor neuron." Without this protein, the muscles surrounding the spinal cord (and then, later, distal muscles such as the arms and legs) gradually weaken, affecting the person's ability to walk, breathe, and swallow. Worse still, while Teddy had been classified as having SMA Type 2, Fulton was classified as having Type 1 – the most fatal form of SMA, typically resulting in a life expectancy of less than three years. (Fulton was later re-evaluated and determined to have SMA Type 2. With proper care, people living with SMA Type 2 often live well into adulthood.)

"We truly thought Fulton was going to die within three years," Kelly recalls.

At the time of Fulton's diagnosis in 2009, there was little anyone could do. Physical therapy helped slow the muscular atrophy, but no medications existed to reverse the muscle function that the boys had already lost. But when Fulton was 8 and Teddy was 10, Kelly heard about a clinical trial for a drug, infused every few months through a lumbar puncture, that could stop the muscle atrophy and potentially even reverse some of the damage. If the treatment worked, the boys, who were now in wheelchairs full time – might be able to regain some of their muscle strength and their function. Kelly and her husband, Tony, were skeptical at first, but changed their minds when other parents in the SMA community started reporting incredible results. Kids with SMA who had lost muscle function were starting to smile, to hold things, to lift their heads on their own. "When it got FDA approval, I knew enough about it that I wanted to get both boys on board," she says.

Testing and advancing new genetic therapies toward FDA approval is the ultimate goal of scientists such as Jane Owens, a Senior Director in the Discovery Biology group at Pfizer within their Rare Disease Research Unit. Owens leads a group of scientists who work to develop medicines for patients with rare diseases that affect skeletal muscles. Although Owens and her team were not involved in developing the therapy that Fulton and Teddy Mantoan have used, they are helping develop therapies that may address the underlying cause of other genetic diseases. "Our genes contain the instructions for making proteins," Owens says. "If the cause of a genetic disease is a gene mutation that results in low levels or even none of that protein being made, we can generate a molecular construct that allows us to deliver a corrected copy of the gene to the patient, thereby replacing the missing protein," she says. This, says Owens, is the premise of many gene therapies in development — and the medicines that may be borne out of this research give hope to families like the Mantoans. "As scientists, our goal is to advance research to unlock the promise of gene therapy for patients, living with rare genetic diseases worldwide, for whom the current standard of care falls short. We're driven by the potentially transformative benefits for patients and their families," Owens said.

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

Currently, Teddy (now 10) and Fulton (13) are both on a new genetic medicine for their SMA. The new medication, similar to the first, is designed to stimulate the production of the missing protein, only this time the boys take a daily oral medication rather than a lumbar puncture.

While neither of the Mantoan boys has seen dramatic changes in their condition, Kelly says that their therapy has prevented a decline — something the entire family is thankful for. "People want to know if they're doing these big grandiose things like walking, and they're not doing that. But breathing is so important, and we're grateful they haven't lost that ability."

It is important to note that all families may not have the same experience as the Mantoans. There is still much to be understood about genetic therapy. "It's not right for every patient, and the patient responses may be variable," Owens said.

Looking toward the future, the Mantoans are cautiously optimistic that genetic medicine will help the boys maintain their present quality of life.

"Prior to these [treatments], you'd have a skill, then plateau, and then your function would decline and continue to go down," she says. "Now the boys are maintaining, and they're not getting significantly weaker. We're just really happy about that."

Badge
Pfizer
Pfizer
#ScienceWillWin

We asked three people how cancer changed their lives. Here are their stories – and how cancer is changing because of them.

True

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

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

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

Photo courtesy of Celine Ryan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo courtesy of Patrice Lee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo courtesy of Cynthia Kuk

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

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

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

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

Since then, Kuk's mission has changed slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Your Site Articles
science
Trending Stories