Richard Schlueter: Disrupted Funding, Delayed Treatment: The Consequence of the NIH Funding Crisis

In February 2024, Richard Schlueter, an attorney from Brookhaven, Georgia, received a diagnosis that would change his life: head and neck squamous cell carcinoma. A devoted husband, father of three, and managing partner at a consumer litigation firm, Richard had always prioritized his health. He exercised regularly, maintained a healthy lifestyle, and never missed his annual physical. When Richard noticed a metallic taste in his mouth and saw white pustules on his tonsil, he knew something wasn’t right.

“I remember standing in the bathroom late at night, using a toothbrush to push back my tonsil and seeing those spots,” Richard recalled. “I have a science background, and I knew immediately this wasn’t normal.”

The diagnosis came just days before Valentine’s Day. Richard and his wife Michelle were stunned. “We just went upstairs, hugged each other, and cried,” Michelle said. “It was gut-wrenching.”

Richard began treatment at Emory University with a curative plan of 7 weeks of chemotherapy and proton therapy. The prognosis was optimistic, doctors gave him a 90 to 95 percent chance of cure. However, by July a follow-up scan revealed that the cancer had spread to his lungs and chest cavity. The Schlueters’ world shifted from curative intent to palliative care. “It was devastating,” Richard said. “I’m a fact finder by nature, and I was determined to find a path forward.”

Their search led them across the country from the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, and eventually to the National Institutes of Health (NIH), where Richard qualified for a leading-edge clinical trial involving tumor-infiltrating lymphocytes (TILs), a personalized immunotherapy designed to harness and amplify his own immune cells to fight the cancer. The Schlueters found hope again. “Patients often call NIH the National Institutes of Hope,” Michelle said. “That’s exactly what it felt like.”

Richard underwent surgery at NIH to gather tumor tissue from his lungs. These tumor samples were examined in
a lab where they isolated the T cells that had infiltrated the tumor, and these T cells, called TILs, were multiplied and then frozen until the time for infusion. But just as the therapy was nearing readiness, NIH announced delays due to staff cuts. Essential lab personnel had been terminated, extending the final preparation timeline from 3 weeks to up to 10 weeks. For Richard, whose cancer was progressing rapidly, this delay was not just inconvenient, it was life-threatening.

“My therapy was in a freezer, ready to go,” he said. “But I was told I might not get it in time. I’m petrified.” Richard added that his cancer was spreading; he knew the trial was his best chance.

The delay was more than a bureaucratic hiccup—it was a deeply personal blow. In May 2025, Richard was still golfing with his son and nephew. By June, he was struggling to walk down the aisle to renew his vows with Michelle on their 30th wedding anniversary. “He’s always been strong,” Michelle said. “But now, even getting out of a chair is hard.”

Despite the physical toll, Richard remains focused on the bigger picture. “Even if this therapy doesn’t save me, I hope my experience helps others,” he said. “I feel like a test pilot. If it works, it could change lives.”

The Schlueters’ experience is a stark illustration of how disruptions in federal biomedical research infrastructure can have devastating consequences for patients. “We’re not just statistics,” Michelle emphasized. “Behind every trial, every therapy, is a family fighting for more time.”

After months of uncertainty, Richard was finally called back to NIH in late July 2025. On July 24, he began lymphodepletion, and on August 1 he finally received his TIL infusion. While this brought relief, the Schlueters emphasized that no patient should have to fight for access to a treatment already prepared. They immediately began contacting their congressional representatives to highlight the impact of budget cuts. “We are angry and upset,” Michelle said, “and we spoke out not just for Richard, but for every family facing these delays.”

Their message to Congress is clear: Fund cancer research robustly and consistently. Avoiding interruptions in clinical trials and staffing is not just a matter of scientific progress; it’s a matter of life and death. “We need to protect the integrity of institutions like NIH,” Richard said. “Because when science is disrupted, hope is delayed—and for patients like me, time is everything.”

When science is disrupted, hope is delayed—and for patients like me, time is everything.