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Rapamycin’s story traces back to the remote Easter Island in the 1960s. Scientists, curious about the island’s soil, stumbled on a bacterium called Streptomyces hygroscopicus. Research teams at Ayerst Laboratories pulled rapamycin out of that dirt and soon realized it packed impressive antifungal power. Some early rumors in scientific circles suggested that this same soil microbe might explain the island’s relatively healthy senior population, though strong evidence remains tricky. By the 1970s, the conversation shifted. Researchers spotted strong immunosuppressive effects. In a pre-internet world, findings spread slowly, but by the 1990s, rapamycin made it into clinic trials, especially after teams at Wyeth saw kidney transplant patients thrive with fewer organ rejections. This medicine stepped into the limelight with FDA approval in 1999 for preventing organ rejection in those kidney patients. Even now, decades after those first scoops of coral-rich dirt, research labs still chase new ways to use and improve rapamycin.
Rapamycin sits in the macrolide group of drugs—usually described as “natural products.” The industry markets it mostly as a white crystalline powder, sometimes calling it sirolimus, under brand names like Rapamune. Today, hospitals often use it to tamp down the immune system after organ transplants. But behind the prescription counter, scientists study it for broader promise—from combating aging to tackling rare cancers. Demand typically spikes in big transplant centers and specialty clinics. Strong demand triggers calls for tighter production standards and more efficient supply chains, so ensuring long-term and stable access remains a priority, both for pharmaceutical distributors and patients who depend on lifelong treatments.
This compound turns up as a white to off-white powder. It melts at about 183°C but starts degrading long before that point. Chemical folks toss around terms like C51H79NO13 and a molecular weight near 914 g/mol. It dissolves just fine in fats and alcohol, struggles with most water-based solutions, and gives off no particular odor. The structure is best described as a macrocyclic lactone—with lots of methyl and hydroxyl groups locking the shape into a complex three-dimensional twist. Its low water solubility complicates oral bioavailability, so clever pharmaceutical tricks help patient absorption. Stability matters: moisture, light, and warm temps all degrade rapamycin, so tight storage controls in clinics and pharmacies ought to be routine—and simple labeling doesn't always tell the full story about shelf life or potency loss.
Drug packs display sirolimus content in milligram strength, with inert fillers spelled out clearly. U.S. Pharmacopeia sets out purity standards, commonly above the 98% mark. Vials and tablets circulate mostly in 1mg doses, though 0.5mg and 2mg options target dose customization for sensitive patients. Packages get stamped with batch numbers, serials, expiration dates, manufacturer, and sometimes specific storage requirements: “store below 25°C, protect from light, keep dry.” In the age of counterfeits, scannable barcodes and digital authentication stamps help trace the supply chain from factory to pharmacy shelf. Package inserts speak plainly to both patients and physicians—warning about immunosuppressive effects, grapefruit juice interactions, and the risks of live vaccines. Some markets require toxicology and animal test summaries on label language, shaped both by local law and pharma company policies.
Industrial facilities start with fermentation tanks housing sterile batches of Streptomyces hygroscopicus. The microbes feast on carefully blended sugars, proteins, and micronutrients for ten to fourteen days under precise temperature and pH controls. Operators skim, filter, and purify fermentation broths in several passes—first extracting rapamycin with non-polar solvents, then crystallizing, then finishing with high-pressure liquid chromatography. Each refinement step strips out impurities and breakdown products. Downstream processing typically includes micronization (shrinking the crystals for easier compounding) plus multiple quality tests for residual solvent, heavy metals, and microbe counts. These steps, done right, rule out contamination while raising both yield and purity. Lab-scale preparation stays close to these basic steps, but swaps big tanks for small batch glassware and bench-top rotovaps. Thus, every batch stands as both a technical achievement and a challenge for plant operators facing regulatory pressure and fast-changing demand in the global marketplace.
Rapamycin’s chemical backbone presents a playground for medicinal chemists. Some tweaks, like hemi-synthetic cyclohexylmethyl analogs, aim for stronger target binding or fewer side effects. The macrolide ring can spin off several derivatives—everolimus, temsirolimus, and ridaforolimus—each chasing a place in cancer therapy or rare autoimmune diseases. Common transformations involve oxidation, methylation, or substitution at various side chains. Chemists run these reactions at tightly controlled time and temp—using quenching agents to cap yield and scavenge byproducts. Industrial scale modifications demand both reproducibility and robust purification methods to minimize loss and warranty safety. Even small chemical shifts ripple through the molecule’s immunosuppressive profile, with tweaks often landing on new cell targets or bringing unexpected toxicity. The hunt for better analogs stays fast-paced, spurred by clinical limits on both rapamycin’s tolerability and its approved applications.
Doctors and pharmacists may use “sirolimus,” but scientific literature and regulatory records still mention “rapamycin.” Product names like Rapamune, and synonyms such as AY-22989 or RAPA, dot both hospital charts and research grant applications. Chemists file it under international CAS number 53123-88-9, so regulatory agencies recognize batches and bulk shipments. In oncology journals, you’ll sometimes see “temsirolimus” or “everolimus,” both derivatives but not entirely interchangeable—one wrong term could mean the wrong treatment, underscoring the importance of truly careful labeling at every step.
Handling sirolimus in a manufacturing site or compounding room requires real vigilance. Staff use gloves, masks, and full lab coats to sidestep even small ingestion or skin exposure risks. Air handling systems capture dust and vapors. Any spill triggers rapid cleanup, following clear written disaster recovery steps. “No food, no drink, no open flames” reads on the warning placards in active areas. Waste doesn’t go down the drain—facilities funnel spent solvents and filters into special waste streams tracked with digital logs. For workers, periodic blood counts and skin checks serve as early warning signs for occupational exposure. Every new regulatory update prompts a review of safety SOPs and a fresh training cycle, because lapses can quickly end up harming both staff and patients downstream.
Rapamycin’s most visible use stays rooted in transplant medicine—helping kidney recipients dodge immune attacks on donor organs. Even as new immunosuppressants get added to treatment plans, rapamycin’s unique approach through the mTOR pathway makes it stand out. Research clinics now recruit volunteers for studies in rare cancer types: breast tumors, sarcomas, and some blood malignancies. Another fast-growing field looks at using rapamycin as a pro-longevity agent. Studies in mice captured headlines after lifespan extension results. Smaller trials in humans spark both hope and caution—clinical outcomes remain up in the air, but the pipeline of research papers keeps expanding. Alongside human medicine, biotechnologists are starting to test rapamycin in leafy crops (for plant disease resistance) and even rare animal rescue projects, though the science sits at a much earlier stage. For many, rapamycin’s potential stretches wider than any surgeon’s toolkit, but day-to-day use still centers on balancing risk with tangible, measured clinical rewards.
Pharmaceutical firms and government labs invest steadily in opening up new uses and better delivery forms for rapamycin. A big chunk of effort goes into designing slow-release capsules and transdermal patches—hoping to avoid daily pill fatigue or sharp blood level swings. Geneticists sequence patient DNA to pinpoint who’s likely to respond best, aiming to reduce trial-and-error and side effect flares. Combination therapies with other immunosuppressants, chemotherapy agents, or even targeted biologics show either strong “synergy” in lab proofs or offer lower total drug loads. Funding cycles shape which projects move fastest, with corporate interests often chasing near-term regulatory wins and academic teams digging into basic biological mechanisms. Today, some research priorities include making water-soluble analogs, tracking long-term safety, and breaking down what low-dose regimens might do for neurodegenerative diseases. Whole clusters of postdocs, techs, and clinical trial coordinators put in long hours pushing the field forward, often in search of new answers for old questions about aging, organ rejection, or cancer resistance.
Scientists studying rapamycin’s darker side run whole series of toxicology trials across animal models and cell lines. Early signs pointed to mouth sores (ulcers), delayed wound healing, and easy bruising—symptoms that either forced dose cuts or led patients to drop out. With immunosuppression as a core effect, infectious diseases (fungal, viral, bacterial) can flare up, so regular monitoring and diagnostic testing feel less like an afterthought and more like a frontline defense. Long-term studies in rodents raised red flags about delayed puberty, reduced fertility, and even rare lung diseases. Children and seniors experience different toxicity thresholds, making dose adjustment essential—not all bodies break down or excrete rapamycin at predictable rates. These lessons push regulatory agencies to press for frequent blood monitoring, labor-intensive side effect reporting, and ongoing surveillance of “real-world” patients post-approval. Patient safety means not just publishing adverse effect rates, but actively fine-tuning treatment guidance year after year, as new data pour in from hospital registries and global research databases.
Rapamycin’s story continues to unfold, even after decades on the market. For longevity enthusiasts, mouse studies flatter hopes for healthy aging, while skeptics point to the complex web of side effects still not fully mapped out in humans. Cancer researchers keep peeling back layers of the mTOR pathway—finding new targets and combination partners every season. Gene-editing and nanomedicine bring new ideas to the table for tuning rapamycin’s delivery or minimizing immune bounce-back. Laws around drug repurposing could shift funding priorities, turning “off-patent” investments into long-term clinical trials for aging, Alzheimer’s, or rare autoimmune conditions. Some observers argue for broader public education, so patients and caregivers can understand both possibilities and risks without hype. Supply chains, driven by global instability, also shape how consistently patients get access and what local clinics can afford. In the years to come, the future for rapamycin will be written not just in labs, but in conversations among patients, clinicians, regulators, and the industry, each weighing opportunity against caution as scientific breakthroughs get closer to everyday life.
Rapamycin, better known in hospitals as sirolimus, once gained headlines for helping organ transplant patients keep their new organs. Its main task? Calming an overactive immune system so the body doesn’t attack a fresh kidney or liver. Doctors have seen real people thrive thanks to this medicine, getting another shot at a healthy life because their bodies stopped fighting the very parts that might save them.
A couple of decades have passed since those first successes. Science kept poking at rapamycin, asking what else it might offer beyond preventing rejection. Here’s where things start to get interesting. Researchers found that rapamycin slows down one of the body’s busiest protein-making crews: mTOR, short for “mechanistic target of rapamycin.” In my own run-ins with the world of medicine, anything targeting a pathway as central as mTOR deserves real attention.
Rapamycin didn’t stop at transplant medicine. Doctors started dosing it to people with certain types of cancers—like kidney cancer or a rare lung disease called lymphangioleiomyomatosis. These aren’t just test tube dreams. People have walked into clinics with tough diagnoses, tried rapamycin with other treatments, and found more time with family as a result. Data backs this up. The FDA has greenlit it for certain cancers after solid studies showed fewer tumors growing when rapamycin was around.
It doesn’t take long these days to run into stories about rapamycin and longevity. Mice live up to 25% longer after scientists give them the drug. Labs have watched fruit flies and even worms stretch out their healthy days. That doesn’t mean you should sprinkle rapamycin on your breakfast. Humans need more answers, and the long-term effects remain a big question mark. But research holds promise: slowing age-related diseases, tamping down cell damage, and even fighting off neurodegeneration.
Doctors everywhere urge caution. Without careful oversight, rapamycin messes with the immune system, which isn’t something to gamble with. News outlets sometimes skip this part. I once met an elderly neighbor who heard about the longevity angle and tried to order rapamycin online. He ended up spiking a fever that sent him to the ER. It’s a lesson that underscores how powerful this drug really is.
Healthcare doesn’t stand still. Clinical trials across the globe dig deeper every month, from treating rare genetic diseases to finding new ways to help people with autoimmunity or stubborn infections. What everyone needs to remember is that rapamycin’s benefits come with tradeoffs—suppressed immune systems mean a higher risk of infections, slower wound healing, and even high cholesterol. Patients deserve honest conversations about those risks.
Doctors, patients, and researchers all carry responsibility for what happens with powerful medicines. Rigorous trials, transparent data, and lived experience matter more than any promise that appears in a catchy headline. Rapamycin shows real potential in fighting disease and maybe even aging, but safety and evidence always have the final say.
Rapamycin started as an antifungal product from Easter Island soil, but doctors saw its real power in organ transplant medicine. Over the years, its reach grew, showing up in studies on longevity and cancer therapy. The thing is, people talk a lot about its benefits, but those same discussions rarely touch on the toll Rapamycin can take on the body. In my own circle, some folks use it for research-backed, off-label reasons, like hopes for slowing aging. The truth comes out quick—these subtle, creeping side effects can disrupt daily life.
The most common trouble seems to hit the gut. Nausea, diarrhea, stomach cramps, or mouth sores creep up. Speaking with friends who've taken Rapamycin, they mention their appetite dropping off. One buddy compared it to how he felt during his worst college flu—nothing sounded good to eat, and even drinking water stung because of mouth sores. The scientific studies back this up. In trials, nearly one in five people struggled with digestive symptoms, which messes with nutrition and quality of life.
Rapamycin’s ability to cut down immune responses makes it invaluable for transplant patients, reducing the risk of organ rejection. Sadly, that same strength creates significant risks. A weaker immune system opens doors to infections ordinary folks shake off with a bit of rest. Shingles, pneumonia, bad colds—people on Rapamycin often get sicker and stay sick longer. I’ve known a couple of transplant recipients who dread flu season more than most. Hand shakes, crowded rooms, and even hugs raise a silent flag in their minds: they just can’t risk picking up germs. Doctors monitoring these patients often check white blood cell counts and recommend early action if fevers show up.
Another big talking point: blood health. Rapamycin can mess with cholesterol levels, sending LDL higher while lowering “good” HDL cholesterol. In studies, people also develop anemia or low platelets sometimes—turned my own friend pale and bruised up after minor bumps. Most healthy adults rarely think about platelet counts or how cholesterol sneaks up over time. For patients taking Rapamycin, frequent blood tests shift from nuisance to necessity, since those numbers can slide outside normal ranges and put them at risk for heart problems or unexpected bleeding.
This drug slows cell growth. That’s great for taming runaway cancer, but lousy if you scratch your leg or need surgery. Wounds heal slower, and there’s a higher risk of complications. Even tiny cuts can take weeks to mend. People sometimes mention feeling tired for no reason, an aching sort of malaise that makes it harder to keep up with daily routines. Real cases in my own life have required scaling back exercise or missing work for medical appointments—all hidden costs that pile onto the medical bills.
Facing these side effects, I always stress the value of working closely with the prescribing doctor. There’s no easy workaround, but some folks lessen their risk with regular lab checks, careful attention to infection symptoms, and honest discussions if new health issues crop up. While Rapamycin holds promise in medicine beyond transplants, these side effects should stay front and center in any discussion about its potential.
Rapamycin holds a strange spot between headline-grabbing longevity stories and serious conversations in the doctor’s office. Some friends bring it up after hearing about mouse studies that make the stuff sound like eternal youth in a pill. Then comes the big question: how should a person even use it?
Doctors first used rapamycin—also called sirolimus—to prevent organ transplant rejection. Those folks follow doctor’s orders down to the hour. Lately, folks not needing a transplant have started wondering if the molecule matches claims about slowing aging or protecting brain and heart health. The sticking point: research in humans for these uses hasn’t finished playing out yet. Some clinics suggest once-a-week pills or lower doses compared to transplant protocols. Regular prescriptions range from 2 mg to 6 mg weekly, but sometimes much lower or higher, depending on weight, age, and medical reasons for taking it. This decision tends to come down to risk tolerance and advice from a detail-oriented physician—some check blood levels or kidney function to reduce negative side effects like mouth sores, infection risk, or high cholesterol.
Doctors sometimes skip straight to “No way.” A few see possible benefit in cautious, tightly monitored doses. In my own circle, one person worked with a physician to try a weekly 2 mg dose, then adjusted based on lab work for kidney, lipid, and immune function. The process always involved regular check-ins to spot issues early—missing those signals isn’t worth it. Trusting a supplement shop or random internet forum instead of proper guidance can backfire badly, especially since some side effects only show up after weeks or months. Missing a dangerous lab value puts more than just any “youthful” hope at risk—think major infections or organ strain. The lesson that sticks: expert supervision matters more than any headline claim.
Plenty of interest exists, but large, controlled trials in healthy people keep winding slowly through approvals. Most data on using rapamycin to slow aging or fight chronic illnesses comes from animal models. That doesn’t translate directly to people, especially since the same dose can behave differently in humans. The National Institute on Aging’s Interventions Testing Program gave much of this conversation its spark by showing longer life spans in mice. Translational medicine takes careful dosing, tracked side effects, and open channels between patient and doctor—not copying a rodent study off the internet.
Folks thinking about rapamycin benefit most from a few practical moves. Get full baseline bloodwork before starting anything new. Find a healthcare provider who understands both potential benefits and risks of off-label use—avoid “longevity clinics” with no medical oversight. Use doses proven safe from transplant or rare disease studies, not crowdsourced dosages. Schedule regular check-ins (labs, in-person review) and log changes in health, even small ones. Stay open and honest with the prescribing provider—this stuff isn’t candy, so play it straight to spot issues before they spiral.
Pills like rapamycin catch attention, but the real solution stays the same as it always did: dig into trustworthy research, eat well, exercise, don’t skip sleep, and work closely with a smart, skeptical doctor if you decide to try anything new. For now, that cautious approach still stands as the surest path to anything resembling healthy aging—and avoids getting burned chasing miracle cures.
Every now and then, a drug developed for one purpose sparks curiosity in a different field. Rapamycin started as a transplant anti-rejection medication, but lately, the focus has shifted toward its ability to slow aging and prolong health. This drug blocks the mTOR pathway, which scientists link to cell growth and aging. As someone who pays attention to health trends and the science behind them, I've noticed more folks in my circle—doctors, researchers, and even retirees—wonder about using rapamycin for longer, healthier lives. But the big question never changes: can regular use stay safe over years or even decades?
Doctors have prescribed rapamycin for years, mainly for organ transplant patients. These folks take it to help tamp down the immune system, lowering the risk of the body attacking a new organ. In this setting, most people use rapamycin along with other strong drugs. Patients often report side effects: mouth sores crop up, cholesterol and blood sugar go up, and wounds may heal slower. Some catch more infections, since the immune system isn't working at full tilt. It's hard to ignore these facts if you're thinking about using rapamycin for a totally different goal.
But life extension and peak health is not the same game as immune suppression after a transplant. Dosages people talk about in the anti-aging world are lower, and cycles aren’t continuous. I have friends in research who point to studies in animals—mice and even dogs—showing better healthspan and, sometimes, longer life with fewer side effects at low doses. But large, long-term trials in healthy humans remain thin on the ground.
There’s no denying that plenty of doctors feel nervous about side effects like poor wound healing, higher cholesterol, and risk of diabetes with long-term rapamycin. Some issues fade if you keep doses low, but taking any drug for years always comes with some unknowns. Many people using rapamycin for life extension try to balance risks by using only weekly doses, keeping close tabs on bloodwork, and cutting back at the first sign of trouble.
Daily life doesn’t wait for future clinical trials. As a father and a runner, I like the promise, but I’ve seen people chase miracle solutions before only to end up with new problems—sometimes the body’s warning signs show up late. For those thinking about taking rapamycin, it's smart to work with a physician who understands its risks. Groups have popped up sharing self-taught experience and practical tips, but that can't replace real medical oversight and solid long-term studies.
If society wants clear answers, we need more research, not just mouse studies. Experts at top universities have started small-scale trials with healthy older adults. Early results hint at some benefit for immune response and inflammation, but researchers still track those using the drug for years. Anyone considering using rapamycin outside of a medical setting should watch for updates on these trials and check in with a professional who can keep tabs on side effects that might sneak up.
People will always look for ways to stay healthy and young. Rapamycin offers hope, but trust in health grows from real proof—not just from stories and isolated wins. Every new trial brings us closer to knowing where that line sits between benefit and risk for rapamycin in healthy people. Until then, common sense, openness to new facts, and honest conversations with healthcare teams offer the safest way forward.
Rapamycin stands out for its unique role in treating certain cancers, transplant rejection, and more recently, as a drug of interest in aging research. Every pharmacist and most seasoned patients know that new medicines can shake up routines, especially when you already have a shelf full of pill bottles. Taking rapamycin isn't just about opening a prescription bottle. It's about thinking ahead about the mix of other drugs in your life.
Combining rapamycin with other prescriptions means looking beyond a simple list. Our bodies break down drugs through systems run by enzymes — CYP3A4 handles rapamycin. Lots of drugs touch that same metabolic pathway. Think about antibiotics like clarithromycin, anti-fungals such as ketoconazole, or even HIV treatments. Each one can pump up rapamycin levels in the blood, sometimes causing dangerous side effects like mouth sores, swelling, or trouble fighting off infections.
Some drugs push in the opposite direction. Drugs like rifampin or certain seizure medicines may actually clear rapamycin out faster. That leaves less of the drug to do its job. These shifts aren’t just minor tweaks; they can push someone into organ rejection or rob someone of needed cancer protection.
Experiencing a real drug interaction turns an invisible risk into something painfully obvious. Once, a patient co-prescribed rapamycin and a strong anti-fungal for a fungal lung infection went from feeling fine to needing hospitalization with swelling and high blood pressure, almost overnight. That experience left a deep impression: ignoring interaction warnings isn’t just a pharmacist’s drama. Careers in medicine and firsthand stories from family members remind me how easily one prescription can trip up another.
People often forget the non-prescription items that can complicate things. Grapefruit juice, often thought of as a harmless breakfast addition, can double or triple rapamycin blood levels. Even herbal supplements like St. John’s Wort can mess with the metabolic balance, just in a less predictable direction. Insurance forms or hurried appointments might not ask about over-the-counter pills or tea blends, so patients sometimes miss sharing these crucial details.
Every patient deserves a conversation that covers more than just “Take this once a day.” Pharmacists already check for interactions, but extra layers like computer alerts sometimes miss a full picture. A checklist at the doctor's office that covers prescriptions, supplements, and diet helps. Patients shouldn’t feel any hesitation to ask questions or double-check their current medicines.
Doctors need time and reliable electronic systems that flag the real risk, not just overload them with warning pop-ups. It helps to bring all medication bottles — even vitamins — to every appointment.
Reaching for new solutions, some researchers are nudging for wider use of personalized medicine. Simple blood tests can measure rapamycin levels and catch problems early. At the same time, medical teams could learn from success stories: clear instructions, regular blood monitoring, and honest patient-doctor talks change outcomes.
Mixing drugs like rapamycin with others is never just a background issue. Tiny details — a forgotten supplement, a missed warning — can change the whole course of treatment. Putting more energy into communication and routine checks can make a real difference for people who rely on these powerful medications.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | Sirolimus |
| Other names |
Sirolimus AY-22989 Rapamune NSC 226080 |
| Pronunciation | /ræpəˈmaɪsɪn/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 53123-88-9 |
| Beilstein Reference | 3580722 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:9168 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL521 |
| ChemSpider | 21508836 |
| DrugBank | DB00877 |
| ECHA InfoCard | ECHA InfoCard: 100.159.317 |
| EC Number | 2.7.1.137 |
| Gmelin Reference | 126950 |
| KEGG | C00738 |
| MeSH | D016841 |
| PubChem CID | 5284616 |
| RTECS number | SWG41650XJ |
| UNII | WYQ7N0BPYC |
| UN number | UN3249 |
| CompTox Dashboard (EPA) | DTXSID7042948 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | C51H79NO13 |
| Molar mass | 914.172 g/mol |
| Appearance | White to off-white powder |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.01 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Insoluble |
| log P | 4.3 |
| Vapor pressure | 3.7E-19 mmHg |
| Acidity (pKa) | 4.6 |
| Basicity (pKb) | pKb ≈ 5.9 |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.61 |
| Dipole moment | 4.03 D |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std molar entropy (S⦵298) | 354.7 J·mol⁻¹·K⁻¹ |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | -11220 kJ/mol |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | L04AA10 |
| Hazards | |
| Main hazards | May damage fertility; Harmful if swallowed; May cause cancer; Causes damage to organs through prolonged or repeated exposure |
| GHS labelling | GHS05, GHS07, GHS08 |
| Pictograms | GHS08 |
| Signal word | Warning |
| Hazard statements | H360FD: May damage fertility. May damage the unborn child. |
| Precautionary statements | P261; P264; P270; P272; P273; P280; P301+P312; P302+P352; P304+P340; P305+P351+P338; P308+P313; P312; P321; P330; P332+P313; P337+P313; P362+P364; P405; P501 |
| NFPA 704 (fire diamond) | Health: 2, Flammability: 1, Instability: 0, Special: - |
| Lethal dose or concentration | LD50 (mouse, intraperitoneal): 18 mg/kg |
| LD50 (median dose) | LD50: 18 mg/kg (mouse, intravenous) |
| NIOSH | NIOSH: Not listed |
| PEL (Permissible) | 5 µg/m³ |
| REL (Recommended) | 1.00 mg |
| IDLH (Immediate danger) | Not established |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Everolimus Temsirolimus Ridaforolimus Sirolimus Deforolimus |
