Savoring 20 years of my Huntington’s disease blog

 

This month I am celebrating the 20 years of this blog.

 

I began At Risk for Huntington’s Disease on January 10, 2005, wanting to “squeeze as much life into my days as possible” before experiencing the debilitating HD symptoms that led to my mother’s death a year later. Because I lived in what I called the “terrible and lonely HD closet” – fearful of genetic discrimination – I used the pseudonym “Gene Veritas,” “the truth in my genes.” That name reflected the fact that I had tested positive for the HD gene in 1999.

 

My mother died at 68, after two decades of debilitating symptoms, which was very painful to watch.

 

I turned 65 last month. By this age, I had expected to have full-blown HD, which would have left me unable to work, drive, or write.

 

But, according to my latest neurological checkup, I don’t yet have apparent HD symptoms!

 

In general, the more abnormal the gene, the earlier the age of disease onset. My mother and I have the same gene mutation, suggesting a similar disease path. However, although my mother’s symptoms started in her late 40s, one or more modifier genes, the functions of which were discovered a decade ago, have perhaps delayed my disease onset.

 

This article is number 336. Each day of good health is a blessing.

 

Gene Veritas (aka Kenneth P. Serbin) with his blog (photo by Regina Serbin)

 

The impact

 

In 2012, I exited the HD closet by publishing an essay – and using my real name, Kenneth P. Serbin – in The Chronicle of Higher Education. It was titled “Racing Against the Genetic Clock.” Going public opened new vistas of advocacy and enabled me to blog with greater transparency.

 

In December 2022. I published a detailed analysis of the blog in “Striving for a Realistic and Unapologetic View of Huntington’s Disease” in the Journal of Huntington’s Disease. It described how the blog has helped give voice to the HD community by exploring the major challenges faced by HD families, becoming a key reference for those families, and chronicling the quest to defeat the disorder.

 

As I observed, the blog has also “helped document the new and harrowing experience of living in the gray zone between a genetic test result and disease onset.”

 

At Risk for HD has addressed multiple topics including advocacy, caregiving, family trauma, coping strategies, genetic testing, discrimination, leaving the HD closet, participation in research and clinical trials, as well as religion, faith, and spirituality.

 

When my mother was diagnosed with HD in 1995 – two years after the discovery of the gene – little hope existed for treatments that could slow the progression of HD. However, in the past decade, advances in academic labs and biopharma firms have led to key clinical trials that show potential for affecting the course of HD and perhaps even a cure (click here to read more).

Telling the story of those complex developments has become a major focus of At Risk for HD. With the growing number of research projects, I have necessarily highlighted those that appear closest to producing actual drugs such as the Roche gene silencing program, which I have covered extensively.

 

In 2021, the first Roche trial showed lack of efficacy. In 2023 Roche started enrolling volunteers in a more focused trial to see if the drug might work at least in some patients. Other key trials are in progress or being planned.

 

Hoping for an HD-free world, savoring life

 

Writing the entries of At Risk for HD has given me great meaning and purpose, which researchers have identified as increasing well-being and positively impacting the course of the disease.

 

For now, I plan to continue blogging as long health permits – and until the quest for a cure is complete.

 

In February, I hope to attend the crucial 20th Annual HD Therapeutics Conference at the Parker Hotel in Palm Springs, CA. The conference is sponsored by CHDI Foundation, Inc., the largest private funder of HD research.

 

In 2011, I delivered the conference keynote speech before 250 scientists, physicians, and biopharma reps – a decisive step towards my complete exit from the closet in 2012 and chronicled in this blog.

 

I have described the conference as the “Super Bowl of HD research,” covered in many blog articles and videos of scientists (see, for example, this one).

 

With the rest of the HD community, I hope for the announcement of effective treatments. I very much look forward to reporting on progress.

 

Just as important is the need to savor life – another key lesson of my journey with the HD community, this blog, and my friends and family.

Ten years out of the terrible and lonely Huntington’s disease closet, as new research and investments offer hope for treatments

 

Ten years ago this month, I exited the “terrible and lonely Huntington’s disease closet” by publishing an essay on my plight and advocacy as an HD gene carrier in The Chronicle of Higher Education.

 

Fortunately, asymptomatic as I near 63, I continue to teach, research the history of the HD cause, and enjoy family milestones such as my gene-negative daughter Bianca’s graduation from college and my wife Regina’s and my 30th anniversary celebration – events that I feared HD would prevent me from appreciating.

 

As we approach Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, I feel a profound gratitude to my family, friends, and colleagues at work and in the HD cause.

 

So I want to reflect on my journey since exiting the closet. I also want to report on new paths of research that could offer hope for what we in the HD community (and beyond) desperately await: effective therapies (treatments).

 

Becoming a more effective – and convincing – advocate

 

I started this blog in January 2005 under the pseudonym Gene Veritas. Having told my family’s story using my real name (Kenneth P. Serbin) in a widely read publication has enabled me to become a more effective – and convincing – advocate. I could now speak with full transparency about HD, provide an example for others still hiding in the closet, and build new partners in the fight to raise awareness and funds.

 

Before exiting the closet, I was sheepish about fundraising and other aspects of my advocacy, restricting my efforts to relatives and close friends who knew about my family’s struggles. After my exit, I became more self-assured.

 

In 2013, the Serbin Family Team in the annual Hope Walk of the Huntington’s Disease Society of America (HDSA) became the top fundraiser nationwide, taking in more than $16,000 in donations from dozens of generous supporters.

 

Collaborating with work colleagues

 

I most feared the consequences of revealing my story at my workplace, the University of San Diego (USD), because of concerns about discrimination. I knew HD gene carriers had been fired by their employers. My USD colleagues were shocked by my revelation.

 

However, those colleagues ultimately showed great solidarity. By advocating about HD at work, I attracted new allies, boosted awareness, and served as a bridge to resources for those facing HD (click here to read more).

 

My advocacy reached a milestone in May 2017, when I traveled with my family to Rome to help represent the U.S. HD community at HDdennomore: Pope Francis’ Special Audience with the Huntington’s Disease Community in Solidarity with South America. My trip was sponsored by several USD units, including the Frances G. Harpst Center for Catholic Thought and Culture, directed by Jeffrey Burns, Ph.D. Later that year, the center hosted a talk by me exploring the social, scientific, and religious meaning of this extraordinary the papal event.

 

Francis became the first world leader to recognize HD, declaring that it should be “hidden no more.”

 

 

Business card of Kenneth P. Serbin (aka Gene Veritas) shared at scientific conferences and with anyone interested in learning about the HD cause (photo by Gene Veritas)

 

In early 2020, before the coronavirus pandemic exploded in the U.S., Dr. Burns and I collaborated in a screening at USD of the short documentary Dancing at the Vatican, which features HDdennomore. In late 2020 I helped promote the launch of the film online.

 

This year, I fulfilled one of the long-term goals outlined in my 2012 coming-out essay: shifting my academic focus from my beloved Brazil to the history of the quest for HD therapies.

 

With support from USD and The Griffin Foundation, I submitted the project for funding to the National Science Foundation. Although I was not granted funding initially, the foundation’s program officers encouraged me to reapply.

 

PTC’s helpful infusion of new capital

 

We all anxiously await effective therapies. Over the past ten years, I have increased my attention to the intensification of the efforts by labs and biopharma companies to achieve success.

 

The last several years of such efforts have felt like an emotional roller coaster for the HD community, though that’s not unusual for a difficult endeavor like drug development, which involves both positive and negative clinical trial results and cumulative learning.

 

Last month, I reported on the abrupt shutdown of the firm Triplet Therapeutics, Inc., which had explored a much-awaited proposed therapy. I also noted that the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) had requested that PTC Therapeutics, Inc., provide further information before allowing a clinical trial of its HD drug, PTC518.

 

But there was also potential good news.

 

Despite the FDA-imposed delay in a U.S. trial, PTC has reached a financing deal with the investment firm Blackstone, based on PTC’s plans to expand its drug pipelines to other diseases. The deal, which in the best-case scenario could infuse $1 billion of investment, puts “PTC in a strong position to continue to execute our mission,” Emily Hill, PTC’s chief financial officer, stated in an October 27 press release.

 

PTC518, a so-called splicing molecule, is also classified as a small molecule drug. It is thus taken as a pill – in contrast with riskier, less convenient delivery methods used by other HD programs, which include brain surgery and spinal injections. Early next year, PTC will furnish an update on the PTC518 trial. The trial continues in several European countries and Australia.

 

Roche diversifies its approach

 

In March 2021, Roche reported disappointing news: its gene silencing drug tominersen (an antisense oligonucleotide, or ASO) failed to improve symptoms in volunteers in the firm’s GENERATION HD1 Phase 3 (large-scale testing of effectiveness and safety) trial. This September, Roche announced GENERATION HD2, a less ambitious, Phase 2 (effectiveness, dosage, and safety) retesting of tominersen to start in early 2023.

 

In its presentation of GENERATION HD2 at the annual Huntington Study Group annual meeting in Tampa, FL, on November 3, Roche revealed that it has expanded its pursuit of HD therapies by embarking on two preclinical (nonhuman) projects.

 

Whereas tominersen targeted both the normal and abnormal (expanded) huntingtin gene, Roche will now seek to develop a drug that aims at just the abnormal gene. (Wave Life Sciences already reported in September that it had successfully targeted the abnormal gene in an early stage clinical trial, although yet without evidence of impacting symptoms.)

 

Like PTC’s program, Roche’s second preclinical program will aim at developing a splice modifier that would be taken orally.

 

“The medical need in the HD community is clear and we recognize that a range of different therapeutic approaches are likely to be required,” Mai-Lise Nguyen, of Roche’s Global Patient Partnership, Rare Diseases, wrote me in a November 3 e-mail.

 

 

A slide from the Roche presentation at the 2022 Huntington Study Group meeting illustrating the firm's three approaches to attacking Huntington's disease (slide courtesy of Roche)

 

Another ten years?

 

After the major disappointment in the shutdown of Triplet, I was heartened to learn of Blackstone’s massive investment in PTC, which indicates that both firms see PTC’s potential treatments as viable and profitable.

 

I was also encouraged to see how Roche, in the words of its Huntington Study Group presentation (see photo below), has augmented its HD research portfolio, reflecting a “commitment to advance scientific understanding and drug development in HD through continued collaborations” with HD organizations.

 

With the ingenuity of HD scientists and the dedication of HD family members to participation in research, the march towards potential therapies continues. I hope to chronicle continuing progress over the coming years not only free of the “HD closet,” but, thanks to new therapies, free of significant HD impacts, as well.

 

A slide from the Roche presentation demonstrating the commitment and collaborations involved in the quest for HD therapies (slide courtesy of Roche)

Surfing through life with the spirit of aloha

To persevere against neurological diseases such as Huntington’s and the aging we all face, I have learned that it is essential to develop meaning and purpose and perform mental exercise.

 

In May 1997, just seventeen months after learning that my mother had the devastating symptoms of Huntington’s, I confided for the first time in a medical professional who was outside my local support group. Explaining my family’s predicament, I revealed to a physician in Brazil, my second home, that I had a 50-50 chance of having inherited the HD mutation.

 

Thomaz Gollop, M.D., an OB-GYN, knew about the harm caused by genetic disorders such as HD and the enormous potential for psychological trauma involved when a family learned it was at risk: in Brazil he helped pioneer genetic counseling and testing, particularly for families who wanted to conceive.

 

I had gone to interview Dr. Gollop at his São Paulo clinic about abortion, a topic I was researching. Though Brazil, a fervently Catholic country, had outlawed abortion, millions of women found ways to terminate their pregnancies, often in precarious circumstances.

 

The disturbing history of this underground practice provides a cautionary tale for the U.S. as our Supreme Court prepares in June to apparently renounce five decades of protecting legal abortion. An affiliate of the American Society of Human Genetics and member of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, Dr. Gollop has been a leading advocate in Brazil for women’s health and legalization of abortion, emphasizing the medical – as opposed to religious ­– nature of the procedure.

 

I had not yet tested for HD. Because of my risk, my Brazilian wife Regina and I had postponed having children. I saw Dr. Gollop as a shoulder to lean on. I poured out my heart about my mother’s struggles and my fear of becoming like her.

 

Dr. Gollop told me: just keep doing what you like to do until the disease hits.

 

In my journey of risk – I tested positive for the mutation in 1999, followed by our daughter Bianca’s negative test in 2000 – I have frequently reflected on Dr. Gollop’s advice by imagining the simultaneous challenge and beauty encountered by a surfer riding a wave.

 

“Just keep surfing through life!” I tell myself.

 

Celebrating our 30th anniversary in Hawaii

 

During this, Huntington’s Disease Awareness Month, we must recognize the enormous caregiving and financial burdens imposed by HD. As a result, affected families must often relinquish their dreams. Regina and I did not have more children. We gave up buying a vacation condo in Brazil. I turned down an offer of a better job at a research university in another state so that, if I were unable to work, we could rely on Regina’s secure salary and pension from her job as a public school teacher.

 

My risk of becoming disabled means we have focused on saving, to bolster my long-term care insurance policy. So we usually take modest vacations.

 

This year, though, we splurged a bit. To celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary – which I had never expected to reach with the HD-free health I have enjoyed – we traveled to Hawaii for the first time. In late March we visited the islands of Kona (the Big Island) and Oahu.

 

We found Hawaii wondrous with its primordial, balmy setting: we saw molten lava flow in the crater of a volcano and heard a resounding chorus of birds sing at sunset. Along with newlyweds and other couples marking anniversaries, we were called to the stage at a luau to slow dance to a Hawaiian love song in celebration of “ohana,” the Hawaiian word for family.

 

Keeping alive the joy

 

I was introduced to the story of the father of modern surfing, Duke Kahanamoku (1890-1968), a native of the Waikiki neighborhood of Honolulu. A dark-skinned man competing in a world dominated by white athletes and sports officials, Kahanamoku impressed the world by winning gold and silver medals in swimming at the 1912, 1920, and 1924 Olympics.

 

Also active in rowing and water polo, Kahanamoku was one of the greatest athletes of his era. Always around beaches and pools, throughout his life he also saved many people from drowning.

 

I first read about Kahanamoku in a guidebook praising the popular Honolulu restaurant that he owned, Duke’s Waikiki. Powerful local interests had always capitalized on Kahanamoku’s fame to promote Hawaii as a tourist mecca but frequently abandoned him to struggle for economic stability on his own. He opened Duke’s late in life as a way to supplement his income

 

Regina and I visited Duke’s. It has Kahanamoku memorabilia, including one of his large wooden surfboards. Outside the restaurant Regina took a picture of me in front of a giant wall photo of Kahanamoku poised to take a dive.

 

 

Gene Veritas, aka Kenneth P. Serbin, standing in front of photo of Duke Kahanamoku in Honolulu (photo by Regina Serbin)

 

I was intrigued by Kahanamoku. Returning home to San Diego, I wanted to keep alive the joy I had felt in Hawaii. Exploring Hawaiian culture and history, I thought, might build for me new dimensions of meaning and purpose.

 

Surfing king Duke Kahanamoku and aloha

 

I delved into journalist David Davis’ Waterman: The Life and Times of Duke Kahanamoku, the first comprehensive biography of Kahanamoku (and the source of my observations here). By coincidence, the moving documentary Waterman, based on Davis’ book, premiered in theaters in April. I saw it on opening day.

 

In Hawaii Regina and I were frequently greeted with “aloha,” and people used “mahalo” to say “thank you.”

 

As an official greeter of visiting dignitaries (including President John F. Kennedy) and global ambassador for Hawaiian culture, Kahanamoku spent his life spreading the spirit of aloha.

 

Davis writes that Kahanamoku “suffused” visitors “with aloha because he believed that promoting Hawaii was beneficial for fellow Hawaiians.”

 

 

Regina Serbin at Chief's Luau with flowers presented in celebration of our 30th wedding anniversary (photo by Gene Veritas)

 

Kahanamoku printed his personal philosophy on his business card:

 

In Hawaii we greet friends, loved ones or strangers with ALOHA, which means with love. ALOHA is the key word to the universal spirit of real hospitality, which made Hawaii renowned as the world’s center of understanding and fellowship. Try meeting or leaving people with aloha. You’ll be surprised by their reaction. I believe it, and it is my creed.

 

(I have also frequently encountered sincere hospitality in my years of traveling and residing in Brazil and other Latin American countries.)

 

Although highly competitive in athletic contests, Kahanamoku’s embodiment of aloha gained him a reputation as a humble victor and cooperative teammate.

 

He refused to respond to the many racist epithets he endured. He suppressed his feelings when personally attacked or taken advantage of by others so much that he developed ulcers.

 

Nevertheless, with his athletic prowess and aloha, Kahanamoku entered areas of society normally reserved for whites.

 

As Davis observes, “Many years before nonwhite athletes like Joe Louis, Jesse Owens, and Jackie Robinson fought racism with courageous performances, Kahanamoku was a groundbreaking figure who was able to overcome – some would say transcend ­– racism.”

 

The wisdom of a waterman and his people

 

For Native Hawaiians, Kahanamoku’s plight symbolized the unwanted but steamroller-like annexation of the independent nation by the U.S. (in 1893); the adulteration of the environment by settlers from the mainland; the imposition of mainland culture and language on the locals; and, ultimately, the commercialization of society in favor of tourism, plantation agriculture, and the establishment of Hawaii as a major military installation.

 

In the words of another fine documentary, Hawaii is a “stolen paradise.”

 

Not surprisingly, Kahanamoku’s extended family retained no ownership in Duke’s Waikiki, which expanded to include restaurants on two other Hawaiian islands and also in three California coastal cities.

 

Despite this history, Hawaii fortunately has maintained much of its connection to nature and cultural traditions. With aloha and their intimate ties to the land and water, Kahanamoku and his fellow Native Hawaiians (along with natives elsewhere) offer a connection to premodern humanity and the importance of solidarity.

 

That spirit resonates with the fight for human well-being fundamental to the Huntington’s cause. As I tweeted in March, “Fortitude, collaboration of #HuntingtonsDisease movement embody opposite of aggression of war in @Ukraine: caregiving, alleviation of suffering, and harnessing of science for cures. #IStandWithUkraine.”

 

A “waterman,” Kahanamoku felt most at home in the sea, the source of life and the substance inhabiting our inner parts.

 

In a time of global warming, political strife, and warfare, the world has much to learn from the wisdom of aloha and Hawaiians’ immersion in nature.

 

 

Kenneth and Regina Serbin with Waikiki Beach and Diamond Head volcanic cone in the background (family photo)

 

Negotiating the waves of life

 

Modern surfing emerged from Hawaii. The greatest surfer of his time and global popularizer of the activity, Kahanamoku did not see it as a sport. It was about his love for, and relationship with, the sea. And about pure fun.

 

“The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun,” he said. After World War II, with the worldwide explosion in surf culture, competitions, and surfboard technologies, Kahanamoku marveled at ­– and was deeply proud of ­– how it took hold. He did want to see it included in the Olympics, which finally occurred in the 2020 games.

 

I tried surfing once in my 20s but did not pursue it. At 62 and still healthy, and with the example of Kahanamoku, I have thought of perhaps trying again, if I can find a patient instructor!

 

More importantly, Dr. Gollop’s advice rings true: to stave off Huntington’s onset, I need to keep doing what I like ­– including exploring Hawaiian culture and history.

 

The thought of Kahanamoku flawlessly negotiating the waves on his board also reminds me of the need ­– with aloha ­– to find in life “the right balance between striving and chilling.”

 

This week I am balancing my disappointment over a professional roadblock with the joyous celebration of Bianca’s graduation from the University of Pennsylvania.

 

I hope that those of us in the Huntington’s community and beyond can all learn to surf through life like Duke Kahanamoku ­– and always with aloha.

 

Regina (left), Bianca, and Kenneth Serbin during graduation weekend at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia (family photo)

Free from the threat of Huntington’s disease, our ‘miracle baby’ turns 18

I dedicate this article to my daughter Bianca Serbin.

In June, our “miracle baby,” who tested negative in the womb for Huntington’s disease in 2000, will graduate from high school and turn 18. In August, she will enter the University of Pennsylvania, to study in its College of Arts and Sciences.

It is a watershed moment, a milestone I once feared I would not reach, and a sign—though hardly a final one—that our daughter is on the road to adulthood with her family intact.

Because I inherited the HD gene from my mother, who died of the disease in 2006 at age 68, I will inevitably develop symptoms. At 58, I’m well beyond my mother’s age of onset. Each day of health is a blessing and a privilege, as I witness so many of my affected “HD brothers and sisters” struggle with the disabling symptoms.

Scientists strive to understand why people like my mother and me, with the same degree of genetic defect, become symptomatic at different ages. Although there is no scientific proof, doctors and scientists have told me that leading an enriching life – and treating my health carefully – has helped me stay healthy.

I agree. Watching HD rob my mother’s ability to walk, talk, and care for herself, I could not imagine reaching this point free of the disease’s classic symptoms. Joining my wife Regina in guiding Bianca to adulthood has provided me with a deep sense of purpose, enjoyment, and pride.

With Bianca, we have also faced crises: being HD-free is no guarantee of perfect health or a worry-free life for her. As a result, we have become closer as a family, and Bianca has matured.

Now, as Bianca prepares to enter the next stage of life, I am deeply relieved.

I had feared not being able to watch her graduate from high school. As educator parents valuing quality schooling, we sacrificed financially to put her in a top private high school to give her the best chance to succeed in life. I had worried that, if disabled by HD, I could not help pay the bills and save for college.

I also feel a deep sense of pride, satisfaction, and accomplishment: I have fulfilled some key responsibilities as a father, handing Bianca the baton of life.

Bianca Serbin (family photo)

Because of the psychological trauma of testing Bianca in the womb, Regina and I decided against further children. Raised as an only child, Bianca needed to overcome shyness and social isolation. Her high school’s strong emphasis on academics and leadership helped her blossom in these areas.

Bianca and her generation will face immense challenges beyond the first-order responsibilities of learning, growing, and finding their place in the world. They are bequeathed such daunting social problems as gun violence, inequality, anti-democratic political movements at home and abroad, global warming, and nuclear proliferation – challenges my generation has failed to adequately address. They will need to exercise great leadership and form new social movements.

I believe they will. I am impressed with, and proud of, young people such as the Parkland, Florida, shooting survivors who have organized politically, refusing to accept the tiresome and dangerous status quo on gun violence. Their movement has the potential to impact society the way the civil rights and anti-war movements of the 1960s did. Bianca and her schoolmates joined students around the country in the local-level protests against the violence.

Raising a daughter in the era of #MeToo produces great angst. Bianca will need to be strong and independent as she navigates new challenges and, as in the fight against HD, she will need to find allies.

I’m confident that, no matter what path she chooses, Bianca will help make the world a better place.

Gene Veritas (aka Kenneth P. Serbin) with daughter Bianca (family photo)

Previous generations did not have our options. After the discovery of the HD gene in 1993, Regina and I became part of the first wave of couples testing babies in the womb, and later using preimplantation genetic diagnosis, to safeguard our children from the disease.

Regina and I were especially adamant about testing because, in a cruel twist of HD, men can pass on an even greater level of genetic defect, leading some children to develop the juvenile form of the disease.

Our generation of HD families have also become more outspoken about HD, a disease so terribly hidden and stigmatized in the past. It’s still that way for many families here and around the world.

I’ve always answered Bianca’s questions about HD, wanting her to learn about the topic with full transparency, to prevent the harmful effects of denial. She was first exposed to HD at the age of two by learning that her grandmother was ill with a “boo-boo on her brain.” At age nine, she learned that I carried the gene – but also that she did not.

Since childhood, Bianca has participated in HD fundraisers and other events. Recently, she has also volunteered for the local chapter of the Huntington’s Disease Society of America.

Bianca reads this blog regularly, a way for her to deepen her understanding of HD and to tighten her bond with me. I know that she loves me and is deeply concerned about my risk for HD.

Bianca, San Diego Chargers tight end Antonio Gates, and Gene Veritas at an HDSA-San Diego fundraiser, 2008 (family photo)

Throughout Bianca’s senior year, Regina and I have begun to brace ourselves for the empty nest syndrome.

At the same time, we’re very excited for Bianca. I’m looking forward to our family trip to Philadelphia to install her at Penn and help her transition to this new phase in her life.

Meanwhile, on the HD front, much work remains to be done: along with thousands of other Americans, I still face the threat of HD. We need to realize the dream of effective treatments – perhaps even a cure – that would allow me to live to a ripe old age and, with Regina, continue to enjoy the next stages of Bianca’s life.

Kenneth, Bianca, and Regina Serbin after Bianca's induction into the Cum Laude Society (family photo)

Faith in each other: sticking together through the challenges of Huntington's disease

This article is dedicated to my lovely wife Regina and to HD caregivers.

In 2017 my wife Regina and I marked 25 years of marriage with several celebrations, including a May dinner in Rome before meeting Pope Francis at #HDdennomore and then at one of our favorite San Diego restaurants on our anniversary, December 8.

Throughout last year, I relished the many triumphs of our life together: establishing successful careers, building important friendships, and raising our daughter Bianca, who will graduate from high school in June.

I have also reflected on how Regina and I have confronted the ordeals of Huntington’s disease, the debilitating, genetic neurological disorder that took my mother’s life twelve years ago this month. Because I too carry the HD gene, I will inevitably develop symptoms.

Last year, former San Diego Chargers PR director Bill Johnston exemplified the commitment to caregiving when, after 38 years with the team, he skipped its transfer to Los Angeles to keep his wife Ramona in an award-winning HD care facility.

“He didn’t run away from his marriage vows,” HD community member Dave Elliott reacted to the news in a Facebook comment. In HD families, those vows imply a heightened commitment.

Gene Veritas (aka Kenneth P. Serbin) and Regina Serbin at the Vatican Museums, with St. Peter's Basilica in the background, Rome, May 2017 (photo by Bianca Serbin)

Avoiding the HD shipwreck

Regina and I have faced the challenges of HD together.

The day after Christmas 1995, we received the terrible news that my mother had HD, that I had a 50-50 chance of inheriting the genetic defect, and that the children we planned for also faced a risk.

Many relationships shipwreck upon receiving such news (click here to read more).

However, Regina stood firmly by my side. One night, as I lay beside her gripped with fear, she hugged me tightly.

In 1999, Regina sat by my side as a geneticist revealed that I had tested positive for the HD gene.

Seven months later, we shared a tremendous sense of relief with the news that the baby in her womb, our daughter Bianca, had tested negative.

In 2011, Regina sat in the front row as I delivered the keynote address at the “Super Bowl” of HD research, the Sixth Annual HD Therapeutics Conference, sponsored by CHDI Foundation, Inc.

Each day, Regina lives with the fear that she could lose me to HD. Like my “HD warrior” father, who cared for my mother daily for more than a decade, she faces the prospect of watching (and tending) to my slow deterioration and loss of self.

However, not once has she blinked in her commitment.

With faith in each other, and also in the Creator, we have stared down the lion of HD. Striding side-by-side in annual Team Hope Walks, we yearn for an effective treatment.

A healthy relationship might delay onset

Like any long-term relationship, ours has had its ups and downs. Sometimes our different cultural backgrounds (Regina’s from Brazil) have led to disagreements. Overall, though, we have come to accept and appreciate each other’s foibles.

Ken and Regina in front of the Sugar Loaf Mountain in Rio de Janeiro, 1991 (family photo)

We’ve built a united front in running the household, helping Bianca prepare for college, and strengthening the family finances, preparing for the likelihood of my disability.

Whereas my mother’s HD symptoms started in her late 40s, at 58 I have fortunately avoided HD onset.

Scientists are still seeking to explain the differences in onset in people with identical HD mutations like my mother and me. I’ve strived to lead a healthy life, as I’ve chronicled in this blog.

Though the data from studies is complex, science suggests that healthy relationships can help promote overall health.

I firmly believe that I remain asymptomatic in good part because of Regina’s love and support, and because of our shared mission to build a family and raise a thriving child, soon to turn 18.

Treasuring my family

In our frenetic society, and as my aging seems to make life move faster, it becomes easy to take Regina for granted in our daily routines.

I feel a deep need to stop time and savor every moment with Regina and Bianca.

As I've pondered the deeper meaning of our marital commitment, I've focused on what's essential: treasuring them fully.