Latest news with #lupus
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Bristol Myers Squibb and Bain Capital Create New Company Dedicated to Developing Innovative Immunology Therapies that Address the Unmet Medical Needs of Patients
Five immunology assets in-licensed from BMS with potential to address unmet needs for patients with autoimmune diseases, including late-stage asset for lupus Bain Capital leads $300 million financing commitment PRINCETON, N.J. & BOSTON, July 28, 2025--(BUSINESS WIRE)--Bristol Myers Squibb (NYSE: BMY, "BMS") and Bain Capital today announced the creation of a new independent biopharmaceutical company ("NewCo") focused on developing new therapies for autoimmune diseases that address significant unmet needs of patients. The newly formed company launches with five immunology assets in-licensed from BMS and a $300 million financing commitment that was led by Bain Capital. The NewCo has a broad pipeline consisting of three clinical-stage and two Phase 1-ready investigational medicines that each target promising mechanisms in autoimmune diseases. The most advanced assets in the NewCo's portfolio are afimetoran, an oral, potential best-in-class TLR7/8 inhibitor that is currently being studied in a Phase 2 clinical trial for systemic lupus erythematosus (SLE), and BMS-986322, an oral TYK2 inhibitor, which successfully established proof-of-concept in a positive plaque psoriasis Phase 2 trial. Other licensed assets include BMS-986326, a novel, potential best-in-class, IL2 fusion protein that is currently being studied in Phase 1 clinical trials for SLE and atopic dermatitis, and BMS-986481 and BMS-986498, two Phase 1-ready biologics targeting the IL18 and IL10 pathways respectively. The assets licensed to NewCo reflect the strength of BMS's scientific innovation and hold promise to address unmet needs for patients with autoimmune diseases. As part of the agreement, BMS will retain a nearly 20 percent equity stake in NewCo and will be entitled to royalties and milestones tied to the success of each asset. Robert Plenge, MD, PhD, Executive Vice President and Chief Research Officer at BMS, will also serve on NewCo's Board of Directors. This transaction reflects BMS's strategic shift in Immunology research to focus on assets that have the potential to reset the immune system and promote tissue repair. It also further demonstrates the company's sharpened strategy to invest in areas where BMS is best positioned to lead, while enabling the continued development of promising medicines. "These assets have significant potential, and we are confident that this new company will drive their development to ensure greater impact for patients," said Julie Rozenblyum, Senior Vice President, Business Development at BMS. "Bain Capital's exceptional track record in building successful life science companies by providing focused development and dedicated resources makes them ideally suited to advance these assets to realize their full promise." Daniel S. Lynch will serve as the Executive Chairman of the Company's Board of Directors and interim CEO. Mr. Lynch is an accomplished biopharmaceutical industry leader with decades of strategic, management and operational experience at companies spanning many stages of growth. Nicholas Downing, MD, Adam M. Koppel, MD, PhD, and Andrew Kaplan from Bain Capital will also join Mr. Lynch and Dr. Plenge of BMS on NewCo's Board of Directors. "We are excited to partner with BMS and we share their commitment to improving lives through science," said Adam Koppel, a Partner at Bain Capital Life Sciences. "We look forward to working together and leveraging our company creation experience to build out this new platform and advance these distinct assets in an effort to bring innovative, high-quality therapies to patients with autoimmune diseases." "This is a unique opportunity to build an innovative biotech company with a strong scientific foundation and differentiated development capabilities," said Mr. Lynch. "I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to leverage my background and experience to contribute to the success of the company as it seeks to develop much-needed new therapies, and I look forward to supporting BMS and Bain Capital in the build-out of the company's operations." Bain Capital is investing in NewCo through its Life Sciences and Private Equity teams, drawing on over 40 years of supporting the growth and innovation of healthcare companies globally. Canada Pension Plan Investment Board also joined the investment. About Bristol Myers Squibb: Transforming Patients' Lives Through ScienceAt Bristol Myers Squibb, our mission is to discover, develop and deliver innovative medicines that help patients prevail over serious diseases. We are pursuing bold science to define what's possible for the future of medicine and the patients we serve. For more information, visit us at and follow us on LinkedIn, X, YouTube, Facebook and Instagram. Bristol Myers Squibb Cautionary Statement Regarding Forward-Looking StatementsThis press release contains "forward-looking statements" within the meaning of the Private Securities Litigation Reform Act of 1995 regarding, among other things, the research, development and commercialization of pharmaceutical products, the creation of NewCo and the agreement with NewCo. All statements that are not statements of historical facts are, or may be deemed to be, forward-looking statements. Such forward-looking statements are based on current expectations and projections about our future financial results, goals, plans and objectives and involve inherent risks, assumptions and uncertainties, including internal or external factors that could delay, divert or change any of them in the next several years, that are difficult to predict, may be beyond our control and could cause our future financial results, goals, plans and objectives to differ materially from those expressed in, or implied by, the statements. These risks, assumptions, uncertainties and other factors include, among others, that the expected benefits of, and opportunities related to, the creation of NewCo and the agreement with NewCo may not be realized by Bristol Myers Squibb or may take longer to realize than anticipated, that the assets described in this press release, may not achieve their primary study endpoints or receive regulatory approval for the indications described in this release in the currently anticipated timeline or at all and, if approved, whether such assets will be commercially successful. No forward-looking statement can be guaranteed. Forward-looking statements in this press release should be evaluated together with the many risks and uncertainties that affect Bristol Myers Squibb's business and market, particularly those identified in the cautionary statement and risk factors discussion in Bristol Myers Squibb's Annual Report on Form 10-K for the year ended December 31, 2024, as updated by our subsequent Quarterly Reports on Form 10-Q, Current Reports on Form 8-K and other filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission. The forward-looking statements included in this document are made only as of the date of this document and except as otherwise required by applicable law, Bristol Myers Squibb undertakes no obligation to publicly update or revise any forward-looking statement, whether as a result of new information, future events, changed circumstances or otherwise. About Bain CapitalFounded in 1984, Bain Capital is one of the world's leading private investment firms. We are committed to creating lasting impact for our investors, teams, businesses, and the communities in which we live. As a private partnership, we lead with conviction and a culture of collaboration, advantages that enable us to innovate investment approaches, unlock opportunities, and create exceptional outcomes. Our global platform invests across five focus areas: Private Equity, Growth & Venture, Capital Solutions, Credit & Capital Markets, and Real Assets. In these focus areas, we bring deep sector expertise and wide-ranging capabilities. We have 24 offices on four continents, more than 1,850 employees, and approximately $185 billion in assets under management. To learn more, visit Follow @BainCapital on LinkedIn and X (Twitter). corporatefinancial-news View source version on Contacts Bristol Myers Squibb Media Inquiries: media@ Investors: Bain Capital Scott Lessne / Charlyn LuskStantonslessne@ / clusk@ (646) 502-3569 / (646) 502-3549 Error while retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error while retrieving data Error while retrieving data Error while retrieving data Error while retrieving data
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Bristol Myers, Bain Capital form new company to develop immunology drugs
(Reuters) -Drugmaker Bristol Myers Squibb and private equity firm Bain Capital will launch an independent company focused on developing immunology drugs, backed by Bain's $300 million financing round, the companies said on Monday. The new company will work on five experimental drugs licensed from Bristol Myers, including a late-stage lupus treatment and a mid-stage psoriasis drug that has shown promise in trials. Bristol Myers will retain nearly 20% equity in the venture and is set to receive royalties and milestone payments based on the drugs' success. The collaboration allows the drugmaker to concentrate its immunology research on treatments aimed at resetting the immune system while ensuring the continued development of promising assets, the companies said. "These assets have significant potential, and we are confident that this new company will drive their development to ensure greater impact for patients," said Julie Rozenblyum, senior vice president of business development at Bristol Myers. Daniel Lynch, a seasoned pharmaceutical executive, will take on the roles of executive chairman and interim CEO of the new company, while Bristol Myers' chief research officer Robert Plenge is set to join the board alongside Bain Capital partners. Canada Pension Plan Investment Board also participated in the financing round. Error in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Health
- Yahoo
I Was Told I Might Never Walk Again—so I Hiked a Volcano in Guatemala
I didn't let my lupus diagnosis stop me from hiking one of the highest peaks in Central America. It was Christmas morning when I blinked awake to the mechanical beeping of a heart monitor. At first, I thought I was dreaming. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I tried to roll over and orient myself, but my limbs were numb, and everything around me was a blur of pale light and quiet panic. The voices outside my hospital room faded in and out until one finally broke through the fog. A man rushed in—the one who changed everything. His face said it before his words did. 'It's lupus,' he said. I didn't know what that meant. I only knew it wasn't good. I was 22 and had just been accepted to William & Mary, a top public university in the U.S. I had been the picture of health. A hiker. A wild-hearted, barefoot-loving soul who spent her weekends chasing sunrises and meaningful conversations. I had always been a thinker—someone who mapped out dreams and imagined every possible 'what if' scenario life could throw at me. But even with all that imagination, nothing prepared me for the moment I stepped out of bed one morning and collapsed into my new reality. Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease. A body turned against itself. In a cruel twist of irony, after years of mentally picking myself apart, now my immune system was doing it for me—attacking perfectly healthy organs like they were intruders. It was a full-on war and I was losing. I was diagnosed with the worst class of it and told multiple times I might die. I almost did. The fatigue was relentless. The joint pain, unbearable. I received over nine blood transfusions just to keep me alive. The list of symptoms and restrictions, well, they were longer than my age. Tied with IVs to the hospital bed for more than a month, I remember the doctor rattling off day in and day out what I could no longer do: no more sun exposure, swimming, hugging friends, eating at restaurants, playing with animals, gardening, and walking in dirt. Even walking unassisted, they warned, might not be in the cards. I had a compromised immune system and was supposed to live in a sanitary bubble if I was to live at all. It was like someone had compiled a list of everything that made me me, then crossed it all out. I was a girl who ran and danced toward her dreams, tripping sometimes, but never stopping. Now, I was being told to sit still. But I've never been very good at doing what I'm told. And that's how I ended up 13,000 feet in the air, climbing Volcán Acatenango, one of Central America's highest peaks. The decision made no rational sense. Just months after being told I might never walk unassisted again, I was hiking into the sky on a path of volcanic ash and cloud-thin air. At the same time, it was one of the most logical decisions I ever made. Travel is so much more than movement and cool pictures in new places. It's how we reclaim pieces of ourselves. It's how we stretch beyond discomfort and fears and find out who other people are beyond our presumptions and who we are when no one else is around to define us. I started the hike alongside a group of strangers—fellow adventurers whose names and stories I didn't know, but whose silent grit matched mine. There was something exhilarating about trekking next to people who knew nothing of my diagnosis, only my determination. After our bus dropped us off at the beginning of the trail, my heart sank. From the start, it was a slow, burning, upward climb. I am so glad I had no idea what lay ahead because I might have turned around right then and there. We passed through five microclimates in a day—humid jungle, alpine forest, wind-swept ridges, dry volcanic fields, and a cloud-pierced summit. Each shift was like stepping into another world entirely. As we climbed, Acatenango's landscape shifted beneath our feet. The farmlands gave way to dense forests. The air thinned. My legs burned. My lungs ached. I slowed. And slowed again. I was often last in line, stopping frequently to rest, my legs almost crumbling under me. And yet, I was still moving. Stray dogs are abundant in the farmland, and a beautiful chocolate shepherd shared the journey with us. I soon realized what I hadn't shared with anyone, he probably knew. Out of the 20 of us, he stuck by my side, stopping when I paused and walking together with me when I began again. When we reached base camp at 12,000 feet, I was shaking. My body throbbed. The trail narrowed and a dark windy fog quickly set in. I was surprised when our guide said our camp was just ahead because I could see nothing, not even a glowing light. It was icy cold. Where was Fuego, the elusive pillar of angry fire? We had been told there would be accommodations at the top. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw a stack of used mattresses, box springs, and shared sleeping bags. There was nothing sanitary about it, but it felt more healing than the hospital bed. We sipped hot chocolate around a flicker of a flame. I had come to see lava and was shivering around fading coals. But our guide was confident and told us we should wake up at 4 a.m. if we wanted to hike the remainder of the way to see Fuego up close and active. I had plenty of experience staying awake through the night from my weeks in the hospital. I had no idea how I would pull myself out of bed this time. Luckily, I didn't even have to set an alarm. At 2 a.m, I awoke to cold, wet slobber. The puppy that walked with me had curled up on my pillow. Having shared the trek, he wanted to share the warmth, too. I was more than a little annoyed and sat straight up, trying to drag him off my corner of the mattress. I kicked open the wooden door of our makeshift hut to shove him out and came face-to-face with Fuego. In the deep mist of the night, I had no idea our camp was clinging to a slab of cliff right in front of the summit. The earth growled and Acatenango's fiery twin erupted in the distance. It was bright and brilliant and alive and somehow almost outdone by the thousands of shimmering stars framing it. The deep fog that had suffocated everything was peeled back like a curtain and I realized all the beauty that had been hiding underneath. We rose for the summit. The final push. The hardest part. What seemed so close was a full three hours away still. A pillar of lava burst into the sky, glowing against the dusk. Around me, others gasped. Many reached for their phones and cameras. I stood in stunned silence. I wanted this image and memory etched in my mind before I tainted it with a camera lens. The eruption lit up the sky again and again throughout the night and early morning. I had barely slept. It was pitch black, and we were pushing through heavy sand and ash now. Two steps forward, a half step back. Mounds of crumbling dirt rose on either side, forming a slithering trail as we dipped down into the ravine and steadily rose up the other side. There was a moment, somewhere above the clouds, when I paused and turned around. The mountain where we camped, Acatenango, towered behind me, massive and ancient. Beneath its surface were deep, dark scars—grooves cut through the rock by old lava flows, now overgrown with stubborn green. I stood there, breathless from exertion and awe, already dripping sweat. I realized something that made me pause: The looming walls of dirt both engulfing me and forming my own path were the same. From the fog of sickness and the sting of IV needles, I was now coursing through the hazy vein of the mountain. The same burning force that had once destroyed this path had also shaped it—created it, even. And now, I traced it. My own body, too, bore scars—seen and unseen. Pain had carved through me, but it had also made this journey possible. I wasn't walking despite my pain. I was walking with it and becoming something through it. I was, by every definition, weak. But I was so strong. I was breathing hard—nearly wheezing—as the icy wind whipped against my face. My legs were leaden. My fingers were stiff and swollen. I stopped more than I moved. But I wasn't alone. Step by step, I made it to the top. There—at 13,045 feet—the sun rose above the world in every color imaginable—and some not even the most creative mind could fathom. We stood in silence as clouds drifted below us and light spilled across the neighboring volcanic ridges—Agua Volcano to the left, Pacaya to the right. I was standing on Fuego in the shadow of Acatenango. Ironically, the name means 'Walled Place,' and here, I felt the walls placed around me come crumbling down. All I kept thinking was how everyone told me I couldn't—and how they weren't here to see this view. I reached my grimy, dirt-covered hand down to pet the dog in blatant defiance of my instructions not to be around or touch animals. I didn't ever want to descend. The way down was almost harder than the trail up. I was slipping, sliding, and tumbling, joy erupting inside me. Whether or not we realize it, we each travel every day—through grief, joy, and fire. We each have our own personal Fuegos and Acatenangos to face. Mine just happened to be a real one. When I returned from Guatemala, my lupus didn't vanish. But I proved that 'can't' is just a word. Acatenango didn't cure me, but it reminded me my journey didn't end in a hospital bed. It started there. It was Christmas morning when I blinked awake to the beeping of a heart monitor, my body a battlefield and my future a blur. But it was through the mist of the mountain where I really opened my eyes. They told me I'd never hike again. That I might never walk unassisted. That I would have to live a smaller life, if I lived at all. But they weren't there when the sky split open and fire danced across it. They didn't see me rise through ash and altitude, gasping and shaking, clinging to a mountain that had known its own share of eruptions. They didn't see the girl with IV scars, windburned cheeks, and dirt under her fingernails reach the summit with a dog by her side and a defiant heart in her chest. I didn't conquer the mountain—I bled into it. Walking on the wounds it once carried, I learned how to live with mine. And when Fuego erupted, lighting the sky like a pulse, I knew I would never be the same. Not because I reached the summit, but because I learned I could keep rising—even while breaking. Read the original article on Travel & Leisure Solve the daily Crossword
%3Amax_bytes(150000)%3Astrip_icc()%2FTAL-header-volcan-acatenango-guatemala-HIKEDVOLCANO0725-0e1578c9de574c85807380e89bbccd6d.jpg&w=3840&q=100)
Travel + Leisure
3 days ago
- Health
- Travel + Leisure
I Was Told I Might Never Walk Again—so I Hiked a Volcano in Guatemala
It was Christmas morning when I blinked awake to the mechanical beeping of a heart monitor. At first, I thought I was dreaming. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I tried to roll over and orient myself, but my limbs were numb, and everything around me was a blur of pale light and quiet panic. The voices outside my hospital room faded in and out until one finally broke through the fog. A man rushed in—the one who changed everything. His face said it before his words did. 'It's lupus,' he said. I didn't know what that meant. I only knew it wasn't good. I was 22 and had just been accepted to William & Mary, a top public university in the U.S. I had been the picture of health. A hiker. A wild-hearted, barefoot-loving soul who spent her weekends chasing sunrises and meaningful conversations. I had always been a thinker—someone who mapped out dreams and imagined every possible 'what if' scenario life could throw at me. But even with all that imagination, nothing prepared me for the moment I stepped out of bed one morning and collapsed into my new reality. Tess while dealing with her diagnoses. Tess Moormans/Life Through A Lense Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease. A body turned against itself. In a cruel twist of irony, after years of mentally picking myself apart, now my immune system was doing it for me—attacking perfectly healthy organs like they were intruders. It was a full-on war and I was losing. I was diagnosed with the worst class of it and told multiple times I might die. I almost did. The fatigue was relentless. The joint pain, unbearable. I received over nine blood transfusions just to keep me alive. The list of symptoms and restrictions, well, they were longer than my age. Tied with IVs to the hospital bed for more than a month, I remember the doctor rattling off day in and day out what I could no longer do: no more sun exposure, swimming, hugging friends, eating at restaurants, playing with animals, gardening, and walking in dirt. Even walking unassisted, they warned, might not be in the cards. I had a compromised immune system and was supposed to live in a sanitary bubble if I was to live at all. It was like someone had compiled a list of everything that made me me , then crossed it all out. I was a girl who ran and danced toward her dreams, tripping sometimes, but never stopping. Now, I was being told to sit still. But I've never been very good at doing what I'm told. And that's how I ended up 13,000 feet in the air, climbing Volcán Acatenango, one of Central America's highest peaks. The decision made no rational sense. Just months after being told I might never walk unassisted again, I was hiking into the sky on a path of volcanic ash and cloud-thin air. At the same time, it was one of the most logical decisions I ever made. Travel is so much more than movement and cool pictures in new places. It's how we reclaim pieces of ourselves. It's how we stretch beyond discomfort and fears and find out who other people are beyond our presumptions and who we are when no one else is around to define us. View of Volcán Acatenango seen through the clouds. Tess Moormans/Life Through A Lense I started the hike alongside a group of strangers—fellow adventurers whose names and stories I didn't know, but whose silent grit matched mine. There was something exhilarating about trekking next to people who knew nothing of my diagnosis, only my determination. After our bus dropped us off at the beginning of the trail, my heart sank. From the start, it was a slow, burning, upward climb. I am so glad I had no idea what lay ahead because I might have turned around right then and there. We passed through five microclimates in a day—humid jungle, alpine forest, wind-swept ridges, dry volcanic fields, and a cloud-pierced summit. Each shift was like stepping into another world entirely. As we climbed, Acatenango's landscape shifted beneath our feet. The farmlands gave way to dense forests. The air thinned. My legs burned. My lungs ached. I slowed. And slowed again. I was often last in line, stopping frequently to rest, my legs almost crumbling under me. And yet, I was still moving. Stray dogs are abundant in the farmland, and a beautiful chocolate shepherd shared the journey with us. I soon realized what I hadn't shared with anyone, he probably knew. Out of the 20 of us, he stuck by my side, stopping when I paused and walking together with me when I began again. The friendly stray dog who stuck by Tess's side; Hiking up Volcán Acatenango. Tess Moormans/Life Through A Lense When we reached base camp at 12,000 feet, I was shaking. My body throbbed. The trail narrowed and a dark windy fog quickly set in. I was surprised when our guide said our camp was just ahead because I could see nothing, not even a glowing light. It was icy cold. Where was Fuego, the elusive pillar of angry fire? We had been told there would be accommodations at the top. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw a stack of used mattresses, box springs, and shared sleeping bags. There was nothing sanitary about it, but it felt more healing than the hospital bed. We sipped hot chocolate around a flicker of a flame. I had come to see lava and was shivering around fading coals. But our guide was confident and told us we should wake up at 4 a.m. if we wanted to hike the remainder of the way to see Fuego up close and active. I had plenty of experience staying awake through the night from my weeks in the hospital. I had no idea how I would pull myself out of bed this time. Luckily, I didn't even have to set an alarm. At 2 a.m, I awoke to cold, wet slobber. The puppy that walked with me had curled up on my pillow. Having shared the trek, he wanted to share the warmth, too. I was more than a little annoyed and sat straight up, trying to drag him off my corner of the mattress. I kicked open the wooden door of our makeshift hut to shove him out and came face-to-face with Fuego. In the deep mist of the night, I had no idea our camp was clinging to a slab of cliff right in front of the summit. The earth growled and Acatenango's fiery twin erupted in the distance. It was bright and brilliant and alive and somehow almost outdone by the thousands of shimmering stars framing it. The deep fog that had suffocated everything was peeled back like a curtain and I realized all the beauty that had been hiding underneath. We rose for the summit. The final push. The hardest part. What seemed so close was a full three hours away still. A pillar of lava burst into the sky, glowing against the dusk. Around me, others gasped. Many reached for their phones and cameras. I stood in stunned silence. I wanted this image and memory etched in my mind before I tainted it with a camera lens. The eruption lit up the sky again and again throughout the night and early morning. I had barely slept. It was pitch black, and we were pushing through heavy sand and ash now. Two steps forward, a half step back. Mounds of crumbling dirt rose on either side, forming a slithering trail as we dipped down into the ravine and steadily rose up the other side. There was a moment, somewhere above the clouds, when I paused and turned around. The mountain where we camped, Acatenango, towered behind me, massive and ancient. Beneath its surface were deep, dark scars—grooves cut through the rock by old lava flows, now overgrown with stubborn green. I stood there, breathless from exertion and awe, already dripping sweat. I realized something that made me pause: The looming walls of dirt both engulfing me and forming my own path were the same. From the fog of sickness and the sting of IV needles, I was now coursing through the hazy vein of the mountain. The same burning force that had once destroyed this path had also shaped it—created it, even. And now, I traced it. My own body, too, bore scars—seen and unseen. Pain had carved through me, but it had also made this journey possible. I wasn't walking despite my pain. I was walking with it and becoming something through it. I was, by every definition, weak. But I was so strong. I was breathing hard—nearly wheezing—as the icy wind whipped against my face. My legs were leaden. My fingers were stiff and swollen. I stopped more than I moved. But I wasn't alone. Step by step, I made it to the top. There—at 13,045 feet—the sun rose above the world in every color imaginable—and some not even the most creative mind could fathom. Aerial view of Antigua, Guatemala. Tess Moormans/Life Through A Lense We stood in silence as clouds drifted below us and light spilled across the neighboring volcanic ridges—Agua Volcano to the left, Pacaya to the right. I was standing on Fuego in the shadow of Acatenango. Ironically, the name means 'Walled Place,' and here, I felt the walls placed around me come crumbling down. All I kept thinking was how everyone told me I couldn't—and how they weren't here to see this view. I reached my grimy, dirt-covered hand down to pet the dog in blatant defiance of my instructions not to be around or touch animals. I didn't ever want to descend. The way down was almost harder than the trail up. I was slipping, sliding, and tumbling, joy erupting inside me. Whether or not we realize it, we each travel every day—through grief, joy, and fire. We each have our own personal Fuegos and Acatenangos to face. Mine just happened to be a real one. When I returned from Guatemala, my lupus didn't vanish. But I proved that 'can't' is just a word. Acatenango didn't cure me, but it reminded me my journey didn't end in a hospital bed. It started there. It was Christmas morning when I blinked awake to the beeping of a heart monitor, my body a battlefield and my future a blur. But it was through the mist of the mountain where I really opened my eyes. They told me I'd never hike again. That I might never walk unassisted. That I would have to live a smaller life, if I lived at all. But they weren't there when the sky split open and fire danced across it. They didn't see me rise through ash and altitude, gasping and shaking, clinging to a mountain that had known its own share of eruptions. They didn't see the girl with IV scars, windburned cheeks, and dirt under her fingernails reach the summit with a dog by her side and a defiant heart in her chest. I didn't conquer the mountain—I bled into it. Walking on the wounds it once carried, I learned how to live with mine. And when Fuego erupted, lighting the sky like a pulse, I knew I would never be the same. Not because I reached the summit, but because I learned I could keep rising—even while breaking.
Yahoo
7 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Exagen Inc. (XGN): A Bull Case Theory
This stock is one of several featured in our latest research. For more small-cap opportunities with asymmetric return potential, read our free article: 10 Promising SmallCap Stocks Under $1 Billion Market Cap. We came across a bullish thesis on Exagen Inc. on by inflection99. In this article, we will summarize the bulls' thesis on XGN. Exagen Inc.'s share was trading at $7.00 as of July 16th. A doctor reading the results of a Phase 2 clinical trial of treatments for cancer, infectious diseases and autoimmune and inflammatory diseases. Exagen (XGN) is a molecular diagnostics company specializing in autoimmune diseases like lupus and rheumatoid arthritis, primarily serving rheumatologists with its proprietary AVISE® test suite. Its flagship product, AVISE CTD, offers superior diagnostic capabilities versus the standard of care, combining multiple tests with enhanced sensitivity and specificity, reducing diagnosis time, hospitalizations, and repeat testing. The autoimmune diagnostics market is large, underserved, and economically attractive to all stakeholders—patients, providers, and payers—due to better outcomes, cost savings, and improved practice efficiency. This favorable market backdrop is amplified by the emergence of novel lupus therapies, increasing pharma's incentive to partner with diagnostics players like Exagen. The company holds key advantages through its proprietary biomarkers, unique reimbursement code, and growing coverage with Medicare and commercial payers. Recent innovations, such as new T-cell markers and early kidney disease detection, support pricing power, gross margin expansion, and potential biopharma revenue. Led by CEO John Aballi—who previously executed a similar playbook at Decipher before selling to Veracyte—Exagen has transformed from a cash-burning operation to near breakeven, with revenue acceleration, ASP tailwinds, and profitability expected by Q4 2025. Strategic interest is also plausible; Labcorp recently highlighted autoimmune disease as a priority area, positioning Exagen as a potential acquisition target. With minimal sell-side coverage, recent capital raises, and multiple upcoming catalysts—including improved reimbursement, guideline inclusion, and biopharma partnerships—Exagen is poised for a re-rating. Applying a conservative 4.5x 2026E revenue multiple implies 2.5–3x upside from current levels, while downside appears limited given the business's turnaround, strategic value, and current low-end peer valuation. Previously, we covered a bullish thesis on Oscar Health, Inc. (OSCR) by Oguz Erkan in May 2025, which highlighted the company's tech-driven platform, margin improvement, and expansion opportunity in ACA markets. The company's stock price has appreciated by approximately 21.62% since our coverage. This is because the thesis played out. Inflection99 shares a similar view on Exagen but emphasizes its autoimmune diagnostics advantage. Exagen Inc. is not on our list of the 30 Most Popular Stocks Among Hedge Funds. As per our database, 8 hedge fund portfolios held XGN at the end of the first quarter which was 7 in the previous quarter. While we acknowledge the potential of XGN as an investment, we believe certain AI stocks offer greater upside potential and carry less downside risk. If you're looking for an extremely undervalued AI stock that also stands to benefit significantly from Trump-era tariffs and the onshoring trend, see our free report on the best short-term AI stock. READ NEXT: 8 Best Wide Moat Stocks to Buy Now and 30 Most Important AI Stocks According to BlackRock. Disclosure: None. Error in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data
