What’s in a name? How Huntington’s disease gene carriers are seen by themselves and by others

In 1999 I received the results of a genetic test that showed I had 40 CAG repeats on the huntingtin gene inherited from my mother, who died of Huntington’s disease in 2006 after a two-decade struggle with the disorder.

Everybody has this gene, which first appeared 800 million years ago in a species of amoebae. Huntingtin helps our cells function properly.

The gene’s CAG repeats refer to the sequence of three nucleotide bases – cytosine, adenine, and guanine, all building blocks of DNA – on the DNA molecule. Most people have 27 or fewer repeats. The gene I inherited from my father had fewer than 20.

My mother’s high CAG count caused her to start experiencing HD symptoms – typically manifested as emotional distress, cognitive loss, and involuntary movements – in her late forties.

The term “CAG repeats” and my mother’s count of 40 were two of the very first facts I learned about HD after receiving news of her diagnosis in late 1995.

The geneticist used the same terminology when he revealed my test results.

However, as he told me and many other recipients of HD test results, “a positive test result is not a diagnosis.” While everybody with 40 or more repeats will develop HD in his or her lifetime, scientists cannot yet predict the exact moment and type of disease onset.

According to John Warner, Ph.D., the director of biostatistics for CHDI Management, Inc., which carries out the day-to-day mission of the non-profit, HD drug-discovery biotech CHDI Foundation, Inc., 95 percent of those individuals with 40 CAG repeats will experience disease onset between the ages of 50 and 74. (A future article will explore the statistical meaning of the CAG count in greater detail.)

With an ominous test result at age 39 but no symptoms, I needed to construct a definition of my genetic predicament for both myself and for others.

As I said recently in an interview, unlike treatments for certain kinds of cancer, I cannot irradiate my defective huntingtin gene to destroy it. It’s part of me, literally residing in every cell.

Because of its genetic nature, HD also requires a far more nuanced kind of diagnosis. Subtle symptoms can exist for years before the more noticeable symptoms commence.

'Gene-positive'

For many years, I referred to myself as “gene-positive for Huntington’s disease,” a term I heard often in HD family and scientific circles. I also used phrases such as “tested positive for HD.”

“Gene-positive” echoed the term “HIV-positive” used by the AIDS community. It meant not only that I had tested positive for a condition, but that I inevitably faced its dire consequences.

Thus, “gene-positive” resonated with the deep stigma, discrimination, and alienation suffered by members of both the AIDS and HD communities.

“Gene-positive” further implied an activist stance. As with the early years of the fight against AIDS, we in the HD community needed to tell the world we needed treatments and the resources to find them.

I experienced all of these feelings in the late 1990s and early 2000s, as I immersed myself in advocacy work for the Huntington’s Disease Society of America.

They remain with me today as we still await the discovery of an effective treatment.

Changing perceptions

As my knowledge about HD increased, and as I came into ever closer contact with HD researchers in labs and at events such as the annual CHDI-sponsored HD Therapeutics Conference, both my perceptions of HD and the terms I used to describe my situation changed.

As I learned to my first visit to CHDI in 2009, many scientists see gene-positive individuals as genetically and, at least at the cellular level, even functionally compromised from birth.

I started to hear scientists used the word “premanifest” to describe asymptomatic, gene-positive individuals.

Soon I would be introduced to “prodrome” and “prodromal”. A precursor or forerunner to the disease, prodrome refers to the period before onset.

However, I could never imagine using such a technical term to describe myself to others.

Scientists and physicians also used “asymptomatic” and especially “presymptomatic” to describe people like me. I have frequently used the former to indicate to people that I face the danger of HD but am fine for now.

Other phrases I have used or heard include: HD gene carrier; HD gene mutation carrier; asymptomatic HD gene carrier; disease-gene carrier; tested positive for the genetic defect that causes Huntington’s disease; and carry the gene for Huntington’s disease.

Living with the ‘phantom gene’

At the World Congress on Huntington’s Disease in Rio de Janeiro last September, HD activist, historian, and author Alice Wexler, Ph.D., noted that much recent scientific discussion has focused on defining when HD actually begins.

During a panel on coping with HD, Dr. Wexler asked how global HD advocate Charles Sabine and I – both gene-positive but asymptomatic – viewed ourselves as individuals living with the “phantom gene” and in what circumstances would consider ourselves as having HD.

“It changes for me depending on where I am,” I replied. “If I’m at a conference like this: ‘Oh, my God! I have HD.’ Because I see all these studies and brain scans and searches for biomarkers … and references to me as prodromal…. There’s a tendency of the scientific community to see gene carriers as diseased from Day One.”

In settings such as my doctor’s office, I felt different, I said. “My doctor’s telling me: this time you got a clean bill of health.”

Charles, agreeing with my outlook and saying that he “treasured” his current good health, answered the question in a “wider, more metaphysical sense.”

“We are not just someone who’s had a bit of bad luck,” Charles said about having inherited the HD mutation. “We are a part of history. I have absolutely not a single shred of doubt in my mind that, whether it’s 20, 50, or a 100 years [off], that this disease will be managed just like HIV-AIDS can be now.”

You can watch the entire exchange in the video below.

Living with a 'Phantom Gene': Two Huntington's Disease Gene Carriers Discuss Their Perceptions from Gene Veritas on Vimeo.

A new shorthand

The latest conception emerged at the CHDI-sponsored HD therapeutics conference in Palm Springs, CA, last month, where Andrea Varrone, M.D., Ph.D., of the Karolinska Institutet (Sweden) gave a presentation whose title included the phrase “Huntington’s disease gene expansion carriers.”

That phrase very accurately describes someone like me, because it specifically identifies the cause of the disease: an expansion of the huntingtin gene. However, the term does not by itself identify whether a person is symptomatic or asymptomatic.

Nevertheless, it’s good shorthand for the concept of expanded CAG repeats.

However, both the phrase and its acronym, HDGEC, are a mouthful! They might not resonate with the community, and even less so with the general public, which is more familiar with the idea of a “mutated gene” than with the term “expanded gene.”

‘You don’t look like an HD person’

The abundance of terms to describe asymptomatic HD gene carriers reminds me that those of us in this predicament are undergoing “the new and harrowing human experience of living in the gray zone between a genetic test result and the onset of a disease foretold.”

Scientists have demonstrated that changes in the brain occur ten and even 20 years before onset – meaning that my brain may already be seriously compromised, even though I function just fine.

Inexorably, perniciously, but silently, HD attacks the brain.

However, it’s not discernible from the outside.

“You don’t look like a person who has Huntington’s disease,” a health professional told me recently as I contemplated him writhing with pain and discomfort from a knee operation that forced him to wear a brace and use crutches.

There is no particular way for a premanifest person to look! Moreover, no “crutch” yet exists to help the presymptomatic HD brain recover from the initial assault on the cells.

As an HD gene carrier and advocate for this orphan neurological disorder, I continually face the challenge of explaining the seriousness of the disease and its many social implications.

Along with other neurological disease communities, we in the HD community are still searching for the right formula to project the urgency and significance of our predicament.

A temporary escape

Often those of us in the gray zone prefer not to deal with HD. Unlike others in the community, we don’t yet face the minute-by-minute struggle with symptoms.

At the local HD support group meeting this week, I was the only at-risk individual to appear. Even so, the facilitator and her replacement-in-training for the at-risk section (which normally includes both tested and untested asymptomatic individuals) held a session with me. I wanted to help bring the new person up to speed on the history of the support group and the needs of the at-risk section.

We noted that the support group’s caregiver section is usually the largest of the three subdivisions, followed by the section for those already affected.

The at-risk is usually the smallest – even though at-risk individuals outnumber affected individuals nationally by a ratio of at least five to one.

I sympathize completely with the occasional need to “escape” from HD, so I understand why other at-risk people didn’t attend the meeting. However, I am hyper-aware of the need for more individuals to participate in research studies and clinical trials to create effective treatments.

The transition to patient status

The facilitators and I also discussed the difficult choice individuals and facilitators must make in transitioning newly affected individuals out of the at-risk section and into the affected section.

I’ve witnessed this transition for a number of people. I can’t imagine how hard it is.

Once the symptoms begin, the terminological ambiguity ends. They are now “affected” or “symptomatic” individuals. They are “HD patients.”

I anxiously await the moment when an effective treatment would not only ameliorate these and other patients’ symptoms, but also prevent onset in asymptomatic gene carriers.

Braving bioethical challenges: the importance of Huntington’s disease

Huntington’s disease, one of the first conditions for which a predictive genetic test was developed, spotlights the psychosocial ramifications of the Genomic Era.

In addition to the profound impact of HD on people’s health and social well-being, the difficult decisions involved in genetic testing have created new ethical challenges.

Over the past few decades, the rapid advance of medical and scientific research has caused ethics – our standards of right and wrong and the study of those standards – to expand into bioethics.

Bioethics is a vast topic. Georgetown University, for example, has an entire library dedicated to research on bioethics, and a number of other universities have centers dedicated to the subject.

Biomedical innovation puts bioethics into a seemingly constant state of flux.

The passage of the Genetic Information Nondiscrimination Act of 2008 (GINA) and the Affordable Care Act of 2010 (Obamacare) are two prominent examples of how society has sought to adapt to new biomedical realities and ethical consequences. GINA seeks to protect individuals from new forms of discrimination made possible by advances in genetics, while Obamacare aims to make health care more inclusive as it undergoes profound transformations.

HD families like mine have lived on the frontier of bioethics, often constructing new, personal solutions to the predicaments posed by the disease.

Understanding our contribution to this historic process helps us appreciate our part in the overall effort to combat disease.

New tools, new challenges

I addressed the topic of HD and bioethics at the invitation of the graduate program in bioethics at the Centro Universitário São Camilo, a private Catholic college, in São Paulo, Brazil, during a presentation on September 21.

About 50 people attended the event, including at least a dozen members of the HD community and also Dr. William Saad Hossne, the program’s founder, described by one writer as “the guardian of bioethics” in Brazil. Started in 2004, the program was the first of its kind to receive official sanction.

Gene Veritas speaking at the Centro Universitário São Camilo

Focusing on how the new “tools” of medicine and biotechnology have deepened our understanding of human biology, I explained how my family braved three predictive tests in just five years: my mother’s confirming test for HD in 1995, my own gene-positive result in 1999, and our daughter Bianca’s negative test while still in the womb shortly afterward.

All of these tests brought potentially fatal news: a positive test for the HD mutation meant a 100 percent chance of developing the untreatable disorder.

“Because Regina and I wanted to have children, I also had to think about whether I wanted to get tested,” I told the audience, speaking in Portuguese.

Rather than following my initial impulse to get tested immediately after learning of my mother’s results, I waited for several years. As I explained to the audience, my mother’s geneticist had warned me of the possibility of discrimination by my employer, health plan, or insurance companies.

As demonstrated by the discussion around GINA, discrimination has become a major concern of bioethics.

The risks in having a family

“I did the test, and, unfortunately, I tested positive for Huntington’s,” I continued.

I showed the audience slides illustrating the varying number of CAG repeats (part of the “alphabet” of our DNA) on the huntingin gene. People normally have 10-26 CAG repeats on this gene. An expansion of the gene to 40 repeats signals that a person will develop HD. The tests for both my mother and me showed 40 repeats.

Research shows that the higher the number of repeats, the earlier the disease usually starts, with juvenile onset HD becoming possible if the repeats exceed 80, although even fewer repeats have caused this form of the condition.

Because of the instability of the HD-afflicted male’s huntingtin gene in the reproductive process, he can pass on a much higher number of repeats and possibly trigger juvenile HD.

“Having a family becomes like the Way of the Cross,” I said with pain in my voice. “In our case, because we wanted to have a family – and that’s why I got tested when I did – we faced a third test. First my mom’s. Then mine. Then a third one: of our potential child.

“A low number of repeats: no possibility of having the disease. As the number of repeats rises, the possibility of the disease increases…. The more the repeats, the earlier the disease manifests itself, to the point where five to ten percent of the cases are juvenile Huntington’s.”

I pointed on the slide to a picture of Olivia Ruggiano, a 12-year-old girl who died of juvenile HD in 2012.

“In my case, with 40 repeats, I could pass on to another person 45 or 55,” I continued. “There’s a case where a father has 50 some repeats and the children have 80 or 90 repeats. That’s when juvenile Huntington’s happens.”

Very serious questions

I then delved into the heart of HD and bioethics as I had not done before in such detail in a public presentation.

“A family that faces that situation is suddenly confronted with two very serious questions,” I said. “If they are thinking of the possibility of aborting the fetus, at what number of repeats would they abort? If you’re a couple with the father carrying the gene and the mother gets pregnant, and you’re afraid that the child could have the gene, you can test the child in the uterus to see what type of gene it has, whether it’s normal or abnormal. If it’s abnormal, you can know exactly how many repeats it has.

“And that’s where a question of bioethics is forced upon people. Are you going to have that child – or not? Are you going to face a situation of death at the age of nine or 12? Or are you going to end the pregnancy?”

I explained that, living in California, Regina and I faced the additional burden of raising a potential child without familial support. My father dedicated himself to caring for my mom back in my home state of Ohio, while Regina’s parents lived in far off Rio de Janeiro.

“How would Regina be able to care of me, a sick person in his forties or fifties, and also a child with symptoms or dying early?” I asked, pointing again to the picture of Olivia.

“These were the questions we dealt with and reflected on as we embarked upon the pregnancy,” I observed. “Today there is a method for avoiding that question, with the implantation of healthy embryos. In 1999, that technique didn’t exist. The only way was to get pregnant, then test.”

Fighting on other fronts

The day our geneticist called with the news of Bianca’s negative test in the womb was the happiest of our lives to that moment.

The next slide in the presentation showed two pictures: one of Regina, our gene-negative baby Bianca, and I together in the hospital the day of her birth, another of me clutching our “miracle baby” close to my face.

That terribly difficult and drawn-out part period forms just one part of our journey with HD.

As I pointed out to the São Paulo audience, HD families live the reality of bioethics in numerous other ways: by combatting the stigma and discrimination associated with the condition, negotiating intra-family conflicts arising from the disease, advocating for new and controversial treatments like stem cells, struggling to obtain various kinds of insurance, facing financial ruin, and dealing with the lack of care facilities and personnel specialized in HD.

Sadly, I also reminded that audience of the high rate of suicide among HD-affected people. Euthanasia is another bioethical issue that comes into sharp focus for HD families.

Emotional testimony

After my 85-minute presentation, the audience offered commentary and questions for another 50 minutes. The emotional testimony from members of HD families and the poignant questions from the audience further underscored the seriousness of the bioethical issues surrounding HD and confirmed their global nature.

One man in his 30s cried as he recalled how his sister, who has the involuntary movements typical of HD, was called a “drunk” by the children at her 12-year-old daughter’s school.

A middle-aged woman told how her brother, a computer programmer, lost his job after his performance declined significantly. Despite his obvious cognitive difficulties and aggressive behavior, two telltale signs of HD, both a caseworker and government psychiatrist working for the Brazilian social security system denied him public benefits.

“The psychiatrist said he was able to work and had no problems whatsoever,” said the woman, who quit her job to care for her brother at home.

The family appealed the decision, but was denied again. They have sued in an attempt to obtain benefits.

At the last hearing in August, held before a federal judge, the caseworker, still unaware of how HD symptoms are manifested, asked whether the HD man drank alcohol.

At my talk, the HD man’s sister referred to government doctors handling the request for benefits as “ignorant” and “stupid.” The case is still pending.

“I’m angry and worn out,” she said, adding that she is attempting to bring the case to the attention of the Brazilian media. “We need help.”

I noted that in the U.S., HD advocates are working towards passage of a federal law to oblige the Social Security Administration to remedy a similar situation in which an inaccurate, outdated definition of the disease has kept many afflicted individuals from obtaining assistance.

Proactive involvement and the hope of treatments

Another, more positive area of bioethics involves participation as subjects in research studies and clinical trials. On this front HD people, gene carriers, untested at-risk individuals, and other family members are taking a proactive approach to contributing to the search for treatments and a cure, usually in a context of high bioethical standards.

Ultimately, allowing HD patients to manage their symptoms with effective remedies, or perhaps someday even curing the disease, will obviate many of the bioethical challenges, although new ones surely will arise – for example, as gene-positive people clamor to try untested drugs.

Our community can and should continue to show leadership on these issues.

For now, as I concluded my presentation, “It’s time to conquer Huntington’s!”

(The many Brazilian readers of this blog can watch my presentation and the Q & A in the videos below.)

 


A Doença de Huntington e a Bioética: Um Estudo de Caso from Gene Veritas on Vimeo.

A Doença de Huntington e a Bioética: Debate sobre a Palestra de Gene Veritas from Gene Veritas on Vimeo.

Memories of genetic testing: from my mom to Angelina Jolie

My family’s experiences with genetic testing for Huntington’ disease rarely stray from my daily thoughts.

The day after Christmas in 1995, I learned that my mother had tested positive for HD, a condition I had never heard of. The devastating news that she was afflicted with an untreatable, fatal disorder set me on a quest to learn all I could about it and help find a cure.

In June 1999, I tested for HD primarily because my wife and I wanted to start a family. Sadly, I was gene-positive. That information changed my life forever, altering my career path and thrusting me into a race against my own genetic clock – and for the cure.

In January 2000, our daughter tested negative in the womb – one of the happiest moments of our lives. Now, as she enters the teen years and becomes independent, I realize how our decision to test her 13 years ago has liberated her and us from ever having to worry about HD affecting her or her own potential children.

Lately, I’ve been reliving the powerful emotions of those three experiences and reflecting on how genetic testing has both provided important life-planning tools for HD families and forced them to make the kinds of difficult decisions I have made.

When I read in an HD Facebook group about someone who has tested negative, I at first become extremely jealous and even a bit angry. Then I feel relief for that individual and his or her family and send on a note of congratulations.

When I see news of a positive test, I feel the need to offer comfort and encouragement – and to redouble my advocacy efforts.

Don’t rush, sit with your emotions

An instructive lesson on the promise and perils of genetic testing came in the presentation by genetic counselor Lauren Dennis on “HD and Genetic Counseling” at the February 25 San Diego-area support group meeting.

“Basically we’re giving you a yes or no to a situation where there’s no cure,” Lauren said as the started her overview of the counseling and protocols involved in the testing process. “We’re really looking into that crystal ball to give you that information. Once you have that information, there’s no going back. We want to make sure that you’re in a good place to get that information and be able to cope with it.”

This approach stems in large part from the risk of suicide associated with HD testing, Lauren explained.

Among many key points, she emphasized that individuals should not rush into testing.

“We don’t want this to be an impulsive decision,” she said. “Sometimes people pick up that phone and call us: ‘Gosh, I just learned that Huntington’s disease was in my family last week.’”

Such people sometimes want to test immediately, she said.

That scenario starkly reminded me of my own wish to undergo testing right after learning of my mother’s test and diagnosis for HD.

However, as I learned then, and as Lauren explained during her presentation, counselors often ask people like me to first learn more about the disease and the need to plan regarding potential issues like insurance coverage, career, and family planning

“You really need to sit with the emotions and the idea of what that result would mean for you and how it will impact your life,” she continued, referring to the required one-month wait between submitting the DNA sample from a cheek swab and obtaining the results. “You need time to do that.”

Limitations

As I listened to Lauren’s presentation and the subsequent Q&A session, I recalled the many other facets of my family’s experiences with testing.

Lauren explained that each individual or family seeking counseling is unique, so advice is offered on a “case-by-case basis.”

Ultimately, genetic testing is only the start of a family’s journey with HD, she concluded.

“That’s a huge limitation of genetic testing,” she said. “We can give you the yes or the no. We can’t tell you the when. We can’t tell you what age. We can kind of gauge from the family history – it might be similar…. We can’t tell you where, exactly what symptoms you’re going to have, or how severe they will be or how long your progression will be. That is a limitation. We don’t have that magic crystal ball.”

Lauren’s presentation is an excellent introduction to testing for any HD family interested in learning more about the process. You can watch it in its entirety in the video below.

New meaning

In definitively exiting the terrible and lonely “HD closet” over the past six months, the history of my family’s three HD tests has taken on new meaning.

As an HD advocate and historian, I’ve always had concern about the impact of genetic testing on society in general.

Now, after my employer, the University of San Diego, published an official website article on March 1 about my journey with HD, I’ve begun to implement my long-desired plan to more formally explore the history of science, technology, and medicine and link with university programs relevant to that area and HD research.

Recently I met with faculty members in charge of the university’s brand new neuroscience major. This is a hot field. Projected to take in 20 students its inaugural year, the program has already attracted some 100 students interested in the major.

In a couple years, after some careful planning and lots of research, I hope to teach a course on the history of the brain, which would be highly useful for neuroscience students. Also, as chair of my department, I am helping to lead the search for a new faculty member in the history of science, technology, and medicine who could potentially build additional bridges to neuroscience and many other campus programs situated in one of the world’s leading biotech hubs.

Medical ethics

Last month, the university posted an article about a new student-designed website, Genetics Generation, that aims to provide impartial information about genetics and engage the general public in conversations about genetics and ethics.

One of the site’s ethics case studies, titled “Huntington’s Disease and Personal Autonomy,” is like a page ripped out of my family’s story: a young, gene-positive man and his wife want to test their unborn child for the HD mutation.

However, unlike our story, this hypothetical couple encounters hesitation from their doctor, who counsels against obtaining information for a condition that may not affect the child until adulthood.

The case study ends with a reader’s poll: “if you were the doctor, what would you decide?”

Click here to read the entire case study and to register your vote.

I contacted the biology professor, Dr. Laura Rivard. The students produced the website as part of her course, Ethical Issues in Genetics. Our e-mail conversation led to an invitation for me to participate in a planning meeting for a new, multidisciplinary academic concentration in medical ethics.

As the healthcare and biotech industries continue to grow, the concentration would provide students with urgently needed perspective and reflection on matters such as the transformation of the healthcare system and issues in genetics.

I will join future planning sessions and offer my expertise on HD wherever it might be useful to students and fellow faculty.

Building these larger connections via my work as a professor will help me extend my HD advocacy to new spheres and highlight HD’s pioneering role in genetic testing and genetics research.

Walking in another’s genetic shoes

This past week the often terrible impact of genetic testing hit home once again as I heard the news that world-famous actress Angelina Jolie had revealed in The New York Times that she had undergone a preventive double mastectomy because she had tested positive for BRCA1, which sharply increases the risk of breast cancer and ovarian cancer.

I imagined how difficult it must have been to have received the news of her test, but I also felt relieved to know that medicine has found a way to reduce the risks for Jolie and myriads of others threatened with the possibility of breast cancer.

“My chances of developing breast cancer have dropped from 87 percent to under 5 percent,” Jolie, whose mother died of the cancer at the age of 56, wrote. “I can tell my children that they don’t need to fear that they will lose me to breast cancer.”

For some, the option of the double mastectomy might seem extreme, and, as commentators on Jolie’s situation noted, other approaches to combatting breast cancer do exist.

However, people should not judge Jolie. She made the best decision for her. Nobody can fully comprehend her decision until walking in her genetic shoes.

Likewise, nobody should judge HD families faced with the extremely difficult issues surrounding genetic testing and procreation.

Hoping for prevention

The minute I heard the report on Jolie, I thought of my own test – and the fact that for the HD community no preventive procedure or treatment exists.

Sometimes, HD-affected individuals, gene-positive people like me, and caregivers feel like jumping at a radical solution. We do so because of hopelessness.

My chances of HD onset are 100%. To reduce that by even half would be fantastic. To reduce it to 5 percent would be a miracle.

With the rest of the HD community, I’m rooting for the current and upcoming clinical trials aimed at testing approaches such as gene therapy, which could potentially halt, reverse, and maybe even prevent symptoms.

(May is HD Awareness Month! Learn more about the cause and donate by visiting the site of the Huntington's Disease Society of America.)