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.

Big decisions while facing the threat of Huntington’s disease

At every turn of life, we all make big decisions such as choosing a career, a mate, a home, and the number of children to conceive.

Living with the knowledge of a positive test for a devastating condition such as Huntington’s disease radically complicates such decisions. Coupled with the deep stigma associated with HD, the fear of the onset of symptoms magnifies the stress and doubt that come with such turning points.

As I have frequently revealed in my writings and in speeches about HD, I have faced life-changing decisions about a feeding tube for my HD-stricken mother, my genetic test, and the test of our daughter while still in the womb. (Thankfully, she tested negative!)

Planning for the inevitable symptoms of this currently untreatable disease has also profoundly altered my career, leading me into a new field far different from my original focus on Brazilian history: the history of science, technology, and medicine.

With my definitive exit from the “HD closet” last fall, I have begun to integrate this new intellectual passion into my professional life.

Professional excitement

Lately, however, I’ve relived the intensity of how the threat of HD affected my professional decisions.

With the surprise resignation of Pope Benedict XVI on February 11 and the emergence of several potential successors from among Latin America’s cardinals, my expertise on the Roman Catholic Church’s actions in the region and its relations with the region’s dictatorships – topics usually of no interest to the media and the general public – suddenly were in demand.

The election of Pope Francis I created great excitement: his initial attitudes and actions indicated that he might very well attempt to clean up the corruption and abuses that have plagued the institution.

At the same time, it rapidly became apparent that the new pope had had his own complex and (to some) controversial relationship with the Argentine dictatorship, which carried out a “dirty war” against Argentines from 1976-1983.

In the period before and after the election of Pope Francis I, I gave eleven interviews and answered a number of other queries from newsmagazines and radio and TV outlets.

My personal excitement culminated with the publication on March 17 of an op-ed article, outlining the potential paths of the Church under Francis I, in one of Brazil’s most prestigious newspapers, the Folha de S. Paulo, followed  by a quotation from me about the Argentine branch of the Church in a front-page story in The New York Times.

As I told a number of friends, never before and probably never again will my scholarly work on the Catholic Church command so much attention in the United States.

Throughout all this, I began to relive the past thrills and satisfaction of researching the Church, publishing books on the topic, and discussing my work in the Brazilian media.

My wife seemed especially happy to see me enjoying, for the first time in a very long while, recognition for my original career path. For her, it was a relief from that dogged, sometimes seemingly one-dimensional aspect of my life involving the fight against HD.

Second-guessing the past, but welcoming the future

As a result, I began second-guessing my decision in 2007 to turn down a job to help run a prestigious Latin American studies center in Florida in order to remain in biotech-rich San Diego to focus on the fight against HD. Staying put also helped safeguard my family’s financial future by allowing my wife to keep her good job and better-than-average retirement plan – absolutely essential if HD were to leave me disabled.

I thought of the HD people I had recently read about who had roughly the same degree of genetic mutation as I did and managed to avoid symptoms until their sixties and even continued to work after onset.

However, in the process of second-guessing, I recalled how I made that decision when the memories of my mother’s demise just a year and a half before still haunted me.

In hindsight, it’s easy to argue that I should have taken the other job and not worried so much about HD.

However, hindsight also reminds me of how HD completely destroyed my mother’s ability to work, to communicate, and to care for herself.

My wife and I made our big decision with the best information available to us at that moment.

I quickly reminded myself that rather than reliving the past, I must look to the future, value the intellectual flexibility of my university, and fulfill the plans I have mapped out for myself. I will be seeking connections with my university’s neuroscience program and social outreach project in order to promote brain health as a national priority.

Indeed, my dean has fully supported me after my exit from the HD closet. I felt especially reaffirmed with the publication of a feature article about my journey with HD on the university’s website.

The decision to pursue the history of science, technology, and medicine has exposed me to new vistas of the human story. HD is a challenge – but also a gift that has led to profound intellectual and personal growth.

The real successes and challenges

I savored my public moment as a Latin America scholar.

However, it stood in sharp contrast to the intensity and immensity of the challenge to avoid HD symptoms and contribute to the defeat of the disease.

While friends and colleagues were impressed with the recognition of my expertise, I quietly pondered the truly significant accomplishment for me during the week of Francis I’s election: the successful arrangement of a meeting between Paulo Vannuchi, Brazil’s former Minister of Human Rights, and Taíse Cadore, the president of the Associação Brasil Huntington. They discussed the crucial need to involve Brazil’s Ministry of Health in the fight against HD in Brazil, which will host the 2013 World Congress on Huntington’s Disease from September 15-18.

Ultimately, scientists’ work will go for naught unless events such as the World Congress can draw more people into the HD cause and involve them in the all-crucial research studies and clinical trials.

Participating in a study

On March 13, as I monitored the Internet for news of the papal conclave, I spoke to a researcher at the Huntington’s Disease Society of America Center for Excellence at Iowa Hospitals and Clinics, one of the sites for a key study known as PREDICT-HD, an observational study of the earliest signs of HD that needs asymptomatic, gene-positive volunteers.

PREDICT-HD will help establish ways to measure the efficacy of potential treatments.

Participating in PREDICT-HD represents another big decision for my family and me. The study requires the presence of a spouse or partner, who must answer a questionnaire about the gene-positive individual. All three of us must spend two days traveling and at least two days in Iowa.

The PREDICT-HD also involves a voluntary spinal tap so that cerebral spinal fluid from gene-positive people can be studied for the effects of HD and ways to measure the efficacy of potential treatments.

Spinal taps are routine but, like any procedure, involve risks such as a debilitating headache that could require emergency room treatment. In my case, it means that I will probably notify my health insurance plan for the very first time of my gene-positive status. I want to make sure I can safely undergo the tap, and I want to have my plan doctors on standby in the event of complications.

In and of itself, informing my health plan about HD represents yet another significant shift in my medical, psychological, and emotional approach to the disease.

Channeling the positive energy

As the HD researcher and I finished our discussion about PREDICT-HD, I saw the announcement of breaking news about white smoke from the Sistine Chapel: a new pope had been chosen.

Minutes later, my daughter and I watched as Francis I appeared on the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome and humbly prayed the Our Father and Hail Mary with the crowd gathered below – the same prayers she and I say together each night, alternating in English and Portuguese, before she goes to sleep.

I felt a new beginning for the Church.

In the days since then, I have frequently asked myself how I can channel the deep fulfillment and positive energy from my study of this troubled but nevertheless key institution into the effort to relieve the suffering caused by Huntington’s and so many other devastating diseases.

As I wrote in my op-ed piece on the pope, Francis I “seems to be saying that believers, and the rest of the world, must rediscover the fundamentals of human existence.”

In his inauguration homily on March 19, Francis I stated that “authentic power is service.” As pope he must protect “the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and those in prison.”

For me, this means protecting my family from the consequences of HD and striving to do my small part to help others.

Pope Benedict XVI’s resignation: a witness to aging, a signal for a new bioethics

Undoubtedly, history will most remember Pope Benedict XVI not for any accomplishment or lack thereof, but for his courageous and humble decision to become the first head of the Roman Catholic Church to abdicate in seven centuries – and only the fifth in 2,000 years of Catholicism.

One cannot fail to be moved by the 85-year-old leader’s recognition that he no longer possesses sufficient “strength of mind and body,” leaving him unable “to adequately fulfill the ministry entrusted to me.”

He made the announcement on February 11. He will leave his post on February 28. Shortly thereafter, a conclave of cardinals, the top leaders of the Church, will meet to select a new pope from among themselves.

Benedict XVI’s resignation is a witness to aging and human mortality.

No matter what our beliefs about religion, this simple but profound action gives us pause to reflect on how we can accept our own human limitations.

For the Huntington’s disease community, it also provides an opportunity to recall the ethical, social, and spiritual dimensions of our collective struggle.

Turning over the keys

In a world with many governments and institutions ruled by old men unwilling to release their grip on power, Benedict XVI has voluntarily relinquished control of the Church – the epitome of male dominance – to go live in a building that has until now served as a cloistered convent.

Pope Benedict XVI 

In a global, image-conscious youth culture offering plastic surgery and hair implants to the middle-aged and elderly, Benedict XVI has said that it’s okay to age.

Many elderly people resist giving up freedoms such as the pleasurable and powerful experience of driving a car until an adult child worried about safety takes away the keys or gets a court order to declare the parent incompetent.

Benedict has turned in the keys on his own, saving others from potentially embarrassing and even dangerous predicaments and opening the door to potentially more youthful leadership in greater tune with today’s world.

According to the New Testament of The Bible, Jesus gave the Apostle Peter the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. The historical successor to Peter, Benedict XVI will pass on those spiritual keys to a new pope, another illustration of the profound humility of his abdication.

Each day, HD-affected people and their caregivers strive together to strike a balance between the individual patient’s desires and the need for proper care. We, too, face the terrible burden of wondering about the right moment for the caregiver to take over the keys.

Gene-positive, asymptomatic people like me and those with early symptoms wonder how long we can hold onto our keys, and we worry greatly about burdening our families.

Ultimately, those keys represent our lives and our hopes for a peaceful death and the possibility of a hereafter – a place without the suffering of Huntington's disease.

Revealing frailty

Rather than leave the world the spectacle of a pope struggling to hold onto the reins of power while ensconced in the palatial papal dwellings, Benedict XVI may instead ultimately provide the world the image of a retired pope hospitalized or sheltered in what could effectively become a nursing home, with caregivers assisting him with basic needs.

If Benedict XVI develops or already has Alzheimer’s or some other neurodegenerative disorder, rather than be hidden behind a Vatican bureaucracy nervous about a transition of power and the Church’s image, his condition will become known to the world.

His predecessor, Pope John Paul II, suffered from Parkinson’s disease. Despite his symptoms, John Paul II kept up his busy schedule of trips and public appearances. He also advocated for greater research towards a cure.

The HD community has long understood the similarities between the frailties caused by Huntington’s and those of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and other disorders. We can stand with Benedict XVI as he faces the possibility of his own neurodegenerative symptoms, and we will continue to advocate for remedies for HD, still untreatable but the focus of intense research efforts.

Revising bioethics

The social impact of Huntington’s disease and the efforts to understand and treat it have thrust our community into the forefront of the biotechnological revolution.

As I recently wrote, “The story of Huntington's is the story of our time. Huntington's was one of the very first diseases for which a genetic test was developed. As knowledge increases about numerous other health risks, medical ethics must undergo profound revision, and a genetic-rights movement must arise. To borrow one scholar's phrase, disease-gene carriers like me are ‘moral pioneers’ on the genetic frontier.”

Benedict XVI’s witness to aging and mortality comes at a time when the Church hierarchy, Catholic believers, and society in general have struggled mightily with other life-and-death issues such as birth control, abortion, embryonic stem cell research, and mercy killing.

Benedict XVI shored up traditional Church teachings on these matters, but he also belonged to a generation of Church thinkers faced with the challenge of formulating a system of Catholic bioethics to meet both the ever-expanding promise and dangers of the biotechnological era.

Thus, Benedict’s witness to aging could help the Church forge ahead with a carefully conceived and balanced bioethics.

By suddenly opening up the Church to the selection of a new pope, Benedict XVI has created potential space for new ideas regarding bioethics.

If a pope can humbly resign, perhaps the Church can humbly admit the need for greater flexibility.

Responding to challenges

Pope John XXIII (1881-1963, pontiff 1958-1963), a simple man of peasant origins not expected to make waves, surprised the world in 1959 by calling the Second Vatican Council, which took place from 1962-1965. This June 3 marks the 50^th anniversary of John XXIII’s death.

Vatican II brought the Church into the modern world by carrying out the most sweeping reforms in the history of Catholicism. Those reforms included the end of the universal Latin Mass (in favor of the Liturgy in local languages), initiation of dialogue with other religions as well as with antagonistic political creeds such as Marxism, and greater participation by laypersons in the Mass and administration of the Church.

Vatican II responded to a great malaise in the Church in the 1950s caused by censorship of innovative ideas and an exaggerated dependence on tradition and ecclesiastical authoritarianism. Today a similar malaise – created by the current sex-abuse scandals and cover-ups involving priests, bishops, and even cardinals – plagues the Church.

In the late 1960s, powered by the energy of Vatican II, the Church seemed on the rebound.

Future reforms

As is well known, Benedict XVI worked hard to contain and even reverse the trends unleashed by Vatican II.

However, unlike the 1960s, when so much seemed possible for the Church, today the institution suffers from a crisis of credibility.

Liberal Catholics like me have again begun to urge that the Church call for a Vatican III to address such issues as the sex-abuse scandal and the ordination of women (for another example, click here). The Church also needs reform on issues such as obligatory priestly celibacy, the ordination of married men, and hypocrisy about homosexuality in an institution with large numbers of mainly closeted gay clergy.

A Vatican III was virtually impossible under Benedict XVI as active pope. However, his radical departure into retirement has now made a council possible. It may not matter if the new pope is another conservative, because Benedict XVI’s powerfully symbolic resignation, his witness to aging, has signaled to the leadership that it can and should explore new avenues, new modes of action.

Bioethics could and should become the centerpiece of a Vatican III.

As the Church clamored for peace and social justice in the 1960s, today it can take a new and invigorating leadership role in helping the world adapt to the challenges of the genome, the environment, new forms of human relationship, and the immense caregiving burden created by science and medicine’s ability to prolong the life of the body ahead of the mind.

In its long and often wise history the Church has evolved gradually and deliberately. It can now begin to embrace the postmodern world.

We in the HD have also born witness – to immense suffering, to an ambitious scientific effort to improve the lives of people through the search for treatments and cures, and to hope. We have much of our own wisdom to offer the Catholic Church, and the world, in the quest for a new bioethics.

(A similar version of this article appeared today in Portuguese in the Brazilian newspaper O Estado de S. Paulo.)