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)

Blog article No. 300: who exactly is Gene Veritas?

 

On January 10, 2005, I began the first post in this blog with a simple but consequential sentence: “My name is Gene Veritas and I am at risk for Huntington’s disease.”

 

Today, 16 years and two months later, after my mother’s death from Huntington’s at age 68 in 2006 and my own long struggle to avoid disease onset, I am writing my 300th post.

 

Now 61, I never expected to get this far. Starting in her late 40s, my mother’s symptoms left her progressively unable to care for herself and ultimately bedridden. And I inherited from her the same degree of mutation in the huntingtin gene – which I long thought portended the same fate.

 

As I have noted often in recent years, I feel extremely lucky to remain asymptomatic. Although there is (as yet) no genetic test available to individuals to pinpoint the reason, researchers have discovered key modifier genes that slow or hasten onset among people with identical mutations (click here to read more). Also, as doctors and researchers have observed, my efforts to lead a healthy lifestyle likely have also helped.

 

In the early years of the blog, writing under the protection of my Gene Veritas pseudonym, I focused mainly on my family’s struggles with the many medical and psychosocial ramifications of HD. More recently, with the tremendous advances in HD research of the past decade, I have emphasized the science and the advent of crucial clinical trials. Those trials have brought unprecedented hope for the HD community.

 

However, in the whirlwind of HD advocacy and writing, I have not paused to reflect on the deeper meaning of my alias. Even after I went fully public as Kenneth P. Serbin nine years ago in an article in The Chronicle of Higher Education, I am still widely known in the HD community as Gene Veritas.

 

I have relished explaining a pen name that has become my trademark. In my HD work, I actually prefer the pseudonym, which not only intrigues people but also instantly focuses our interaction on the profound implications of Huntington’s.

 

To mark my blogging milestone, I thus want to clarify two things: who exactly is Gene Veritas? And what does that name mean?

 

A college professor and family man

 

Huntington’s, as a 100-percent genetic disorder, always involves stories about families.

 

After the news of my mother’s diagnosis blindsided my wife Regina and me in late 1995, our life plans changed dramatically. A future as my potential caregiver has loomed over Regina ever since. She is ever thankful about my delayed onset.

 

We forged ahead as best we could. Over the past two decades, we have brought our HD-free daughter Bianca to the threshold of adulthood. Bianca expects to graduate from college in 2022.

 

I am in my 28th year as a history professor at the University of San Diego, and Regina works as an instructional coordinator for the San Diego Unified School District.

 

As a family, we have been active in the local chapter of the Huntington’s Disease Society of America. In 2017, we traveled to Rome for one of the most extraordinary moments in our journey with HD, “HDdennomore: Pope Francis’ Special Audience with the Huntington’s Disease Community in Solidarity with South America.”

 

In the doctor-recommended enrichment and exercise that I practice, I have included the canine member of our family, our cockapoo Lenny, with long walks on diverse routes through our neighborhood.

 

Gene Veritas (aka Kenneth P. Serbin) with wife Regina, daughter Bianca, and dog Lenny (family photo)

 

Representing our common struggles

 

I began this blog under “Gene Veritas” because I lived in the “terrible and lonely HD closet,” fearing discrimination on the job and in healthcare and insurance matters. I built what I have described as an “absolute firewall” between my HD reality and the rest of my life.

 

In February 2011, I took a major step out of that closet by delivering the keynote speech at the “Super Bowl” of HD research, the Sixth Annual Huntington’s Disease Therapeutics Conference, sponsored by CHDI Foundation, Inc., the nonprofit virtual biotech solely dedicated to finding HD treatments. It was held in Palm Springs, CA.

 

About 250 prominent scientists, physicians, drug company representatives, and others listened to my speech, which was titled “Blog Entry 85 … Unmasking the World of Gene Veritas: An Activist Copes with the Threat of Huntington’s Disease.” (I referred to an “entry” instead of “post,” because of the diary-like nature of the blog in the early, anonymous years. Now I use the term “article,” because the posts have become more in-depth and sometimes run several thousand words or more.)

 

As I wrote in an article about that key moment, despite revealing my real name to the audience, my penname “‘Gene Veritas’ will still live on in cyberspace.[…] Through its anonymity and universality, it symbolizes the common struggles of families threatened by HD and numerous other neurological and genetic diseases.”

 

Indeed, in many talks since then I have introduced myself with both my real name and pseudonym.

 

‘The truth in my genes’

 

I explain to people that “Gene Veritas” means “the truth in my genes.”

 

A “gene” is a sequence of DNA, the code that programs our development as humans and gives us particular characteristics. “Veritas” is Latin for “truth.”

 

The truth of my future lies in the mutant huntingtin gene that I inherited from my mother.

 

I also have a personal connection to “veritas”: it forms part of the motto “lux et veritas” (light and truth) on the seal of my alma mater, Yale University.

 

The connection to Yale bubbled up from my subconscious while I was searching for a pseudonym. Surely Yale also came to mind because of the solidarity, advice, and assistance I have received from fellow alumni (click here, here, and here to read more).

 

As one observed, because of the devastation caused by HD, the pseudonym can also represent a grim pun on the school motto.

 

We are all Gene Veritas

 

On March 8, I participated in an online interview conducted by HD global advocate Charles Sabine and Simon Noble, Ph.D., CHDI’s communications director. They wanted to learn more about the Gene Veritas facet of my life.

 

Dr. Noble asked me whether I had an alter ego and other identities, in line with the ideas of 2010 keynoter and graphic novelist Steven Seagle, who has addressed his family’s way of confronting Huntington’s by juxtaposing the reality of disabling HD with the fantasy of Superman.

 

“Gene Veritas” is my alter ego, I said.

 

So, Dr. Noble wanted to know, how did the Gene Veritas alter ego protect me? Did it allow me to do other things? Did I become a different person in some respect? Were there positives to being Gene Veritas?

 

“Absolutely,” I responded. “Being anonymous for so many years allowed me to be completely honest about Huntington’s disease. Those first years of the blog were a complete explosion of HD honesty – talking about the feelings, talking about the discrimination, talking about the anger, the hurt, the pain, worrying about my mother, seeing my mother die from the disease. Those early years were really, really hard.”

 

This blog and “Gene Veritas” have also served as coping mechanisms, I added, and they allowed me to build awareness about HD.

 

“But how to build awareness anonymously?” I continued. “It’s like a contradiction in terms. That’s why ‘Gene Veritas’ became so important, because I was somebody. I couldn’t be Ken Serbin, but I could be Gene Veritas.”

 

Pondering further the universality of my pseudonym, I observed: “It’s my story, but it’s really the story of the HD community. Anybody could be Gene Veritas in the HD community. Because I think we’ve all been at one point or another a kind of Gene Veritas, at least when we first find out about Huntington’s. It’s representative. It’s something that has a broad meaning to it.”

 

Writing the history of the HD movement

 

In this blog, my CHDI keynote, and other speeches, I have documented the new and harrowing human experience of living in the gray zone between a genetic test result and onset of a disease.

 

In my CHDI speech, I showed a slide with a simple breakdown of main blog topics to that point. Information about the disease and research was the leading topic, followed by articles on my mother, fear of onset, and coping.

 

I will do a more fine-grained content analysis of posts for an academic article on the blog as a coping mechanism, fount of information for the HD community, and source of insight into the fight against HD and the search for therapies. I will submit the article to a scientific or medical journal.

 

I am also planning a book on the history of the Huntington’s disease cause, tentatively titled “Racing Against the Genetic Clock: A History of the Huntington’s Disease Movement and the Biomedical Revolution.” The blog will serve as a considerable primary source (a document or other material produced by a participant in a historical event) for my research and/or future historians of the HD cause.

 

In academic year 2021-2022, I will dedicate an expected sabbatical (a leave from teaching and other on-campus duties) to the book project. I will consult researchers, physicians, and members of the HD community about the key themes.

 

I earnestly hope to recount in this blog and my book the achievement of effective treatments for HD.

Getting the COVID-19 vaccine and a new exercise bike to keep stable in the fight against Huntington’s disease

 

In my fight against Huntington’s disease, I have strived to delay the inevitable onset by working hard to keep my overall health stable. This strategy has included avoiding potential shocks to my system.

 

Now the leading cause of death in the United States, COVID-19 poses a threat to all of us. As a 61-year-old HD asymptomatic gene carrier, I have religiously followed recommendations on social distancing, mask use, and handwashing.

 

As a university professor, I have taught online since March 2020. The pandemic has rocked universities’ finances and employees’ benefits. Despite serious precautions by the schools, the coronavirus has surged among some students, including at my campus, the University of San Diego.

 

On February 6, I got a last-minute opportunity to get vaccinated with the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine. A San Diego nonprofit clinic that was following guidelines to first vaccinate individuals 65 and over announced around midday that not enough people from that group had responded, thus making available extra doses that needed to be injected that day. Educators and healthcare workers were invited to get that first of two doses.

 

My wife Regina, an instructional coordinator for the San Diego Unified School District, and I jumped at the chance. After a two-hour wait, including filling out forms and questionnaires, we received our shots! We were jubilant. Getting vaccinated also felt like an extra gift for Regina: February 6 was her birthday.

 

 

Gene Veritas, aka Kenneth P. Serbin, receiving an injection of the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine (selfie by Gene Veritas)

 

As one of the tens of millions of Americans now at least partially vaccinated, I am protecting not only my health, but also limiting the spread of the pandemic. (For an expert discussion of the ethics of COVID-19 vaccination, including the phenomenon of “vaccine guilt,” click here.)

 

I was also proud to get the Moderna vaccine because its RNA-based approach resembles some of the treatment strategies being tried in HD clinical trial programs. Furthermore, the scientist-written HDBuzz website has urged HD-affected individuals to get vaccinated for COVID-19.

 

Though I had a sore arm and felt a queasy for a couple of days, I have felt normal since. We are scheduled to get the required second shot on March 6. I also have participated voluntarily in the federal government’s V-safe After Vaccination Health Checker, a mobile phone app including questions about pain and other potential side effects.

 

An innovative, ‘neurobic’ spin bike

 

Four days after our COVID shots, technicians delivered and set up our long-awaited new exercise machine, the Peloton Bike+, which has a screen for watching online classes.

 

Regina and I have always prioritized exercise. This has become ever more important as we have aged. When we had a backyard pool built in 2009, I insisted on installing a Fastlane swim device so that I could exercise vigorously.

 

I have varied my exercise – swimming, walking, riding a stationary bike – to focus on different parts of the body.

 

In general, avoiding physical and mental routine can reinforce brain and overall health. This has led me to practice “neurobics,” a word that combines words “neurons” and “aerobics.” Such brain workouts can include something as simple as engaging with interesting people or taking a different route every time I walk. Neurobics can increase levels of the critical brain nutrient BDNF, brain derived neurotrophic factor. (Click here to read more.)

 

After the start of the pandemic, we noted the extensive TV advertising for Peloton (which even became the subject of a recent Saturday Night Live skit poking fun at the motivational online workouts).

 

The Peloton bike and other online exercise apps that feature live and recorded exercise classes are an innovative, neurobic way of connecting with coaches and others. Users can expand their physical and mental horizons with the wide variety of online cycling classes, strength exercises, stretch classes, yoga, and other activities.

 

 

Gene Veritas riding the Peloton Bike+ (photo by Regina Serbin)

 

We have found the Peloton Bike+ and the app to be far superior to our previous exercise bike, which had begun to deteriorate. A spin bike, the Peloton allows for a more versatile workout.

 

In the psychologically devastating social isolation of the pandemic, the Peloton is also allowing us to thrive indoors. Despite a significant sticker price, the bike makes sense budget-wise, since the money from Regina’s cancelled gym membership goes to a monthly payment plan.

 

Subtle impairments predate onset

 

On February 16, I received a stark reminder of how Huntington’s disease can impair gene carriers, however slightly, in the years leading up to an actual clinical diagnosis.

 

I attended an online presentation by Paul Gilbert, Ph.D., a professor and the chair in the Department of Psychology at San Diego State University, to the University of San Diego Neuro and Psych Research Club. Titled “Neuropsychological Changes in the Premanifest and Manifest Stages of Huntington’s Disease,” Dr. Gilbert’s talk highlighted some of the key findings in his ongoing research on this topic, including data from a 2020 article by his team in the journal Cognitive and Behavioral Neurology.

 

Premanifest HD involves the period before a neurologist can actually observe a gene carrier as having experienced the onset of the disorder’s typical motor, cognitive, and/or behavioral symptoms, stated Dr. Gilbert. In the past, physicians only saw the motor symptoms – involuntary movements and unstable gait, for example – as signs of the malady

 

Using verbal learning and memory tests, the research has demonstrated that these individuals can develop subtle cognitive symptoms – in particular, memory loss – ten to fifteen years before the formal diagnosis, Dr. Gilbert explained. The memory deficits increase dramatically after HD onset, he added.

 

“It really argues that we as clinicians need to be looking at not just the motor symptoms to make a diagnosis of Huntington's disease, but really starting to look at cognitive symptoms,” Dr. Gilbert asserted.

 

That position echoes the general trend towards a view of Huntington’s as a multi-symptom disease over the past several decades.

 

Statistical versus clinical signs

 

As a regular participant in research studies, I have performed a number of the tests that Dr. Gilbert described.

 

During the Q&A, noting that gene carriers like me worry about where we stand on the road to onset, I asked Dr. Gilbert whether the premanifest impairments hamper “actual functioning,” for example, daily activities such as driving, balancing a checkbook, and communicating with others.

 

“They’re statistically impaired, but they’re not clinically impaired,” Dr. Gilbert observed about the gene carriers in the research studies. The deficits are “very subtle” and can only be picked up on testing, he added.

 

Nevertheless, he added that his research has also determined that subtle memory impairment does have a “measurable but quite mild” impact on activities like handling finances or taking medications, but that only after onset does the disease seriously interfere with daily living.

 

(Dr. Gilbert’s work also echoes the recent landmark study of young HD gene carriers, ranging in age from 18-40 and illustrating no significant cognitive of psychiatric decline. Click here to watch Dr. Gilbert’s 2018 presentation on HD to University of San Diego students.)

 

Anticipating a brighter future

 

With the pandemic and the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression, I am very fortunate to have a job and work remotely.

 

Because an estimated 20 percent of HD onset results from non-genetic factors, my imminent protection from COVID-19 and anticipation of new neurobic adventures with the Peloton can help me maintain stable health.

 

They certainly have helped me to feel optimistic about the future – for the first time in a year. I am also looking forward to news on the key HD clinical trials in progress.

 

Although we recognize the long-term social impact of the pandemic, Regina and I are especially looking forward to a healthier and happier 2022 for all, and the chance to travel: we hope to attend my 40th college reunion, celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary, and watch our HD-free daughter Bianca graduate from college.

 

We are thankful for every moment of life.

This Thanksgiving, appreciating stable health and new plans for Huntington’s disease advocacy

This Thanksgiving, I am especially grateful for good health – and all that it enables me to enjoy.

At my annual neurology checkup on October 31, the doctor told me that I remain asymptomatic for Huntington’s disease. My more extensive annual Enroll-HD examination earlier in the year also showed no symptoms. 

I tested positive for the HD gene in 1999. Next month, I turn 59. At that age, my mother had already been diagnosed and was rapidly losing the ability to walk, talk, and care for herself. She died in 2006 at the age of 68 after a long struggle.

I never imagined that at this point I could still pursue my passion for writing, teach at the university, and support my family.

As I frequently tell students, colleagues, and my family, “health is first.” Without it, achieving goals and handling responsibilities can become very difficult, if not impossible.

Studying the history of the HD cause

I am putting the final touches on a book in my field of Brazilian history, scheduled to be published next June, From Revolution to Power in Brazil: How Radical Leftists Embraced Capitalism and Struggled with Power. I began the research more than two decades ago, not long after learning of my mother’s HD diagnosis. Seeing the project come to fruition is thrilling and profoundly fulfilling.

With the Brazil project complete, I will carry out my long-gestating plan to shift my main scholarly focus to the history of science, technology, and medicine. Last month I proposed a new, multi-year research project, titled “Racing Against the Genetic Clock: A Social, Scientific, and Personal History of the Huntington’s Disease Movement.”

I aim to study how key facets of the movement intertwined with major developments in the biotechnological and medical revolutions of the past 200 years. I believe that the HD cause can serve as a guidepost for other disease communities and inform key bioethical questions related to them.

I also want to help the HD community reflect on its path through history. 

More than ever, my scholarly work and HD advocacy will meld. (Click here to read more.)

Seeing our daughter enter college

On a personal level, good health allowed me to join my wife Regina last August in helping our HD-free daughter Bianca set up for her first semester at the University of Pennsylvania, where she is studying in its College of Arts and Sciences.

I had always feared that HD would prevent me from experiencing this special moment – just as HD had stopped my mother from interacting with Bianca as a baby and young child.

I am more determined than ever to see Bianca graduate from college and find her way in life. I’m hoping that GENERATION HD1, the historic Roche Phase 3 clinical trial of a gene-silencing HD drug, will result in an effective treatment not only for patients, but as a preventive measure for presymptomatic gene carriers like me. Roche hopes to enroll the first volunteers starting in early 2019.

Looking ahead, I hope to retire on my own timeline – not because of HD.

Regina, Bianca, and Kenneth Serbin (aka Gene Veritas) during Penn Family Weekend, October 21, 2018 (family photo)

The preciousness of life

I’ve been extremely fortunate to reach this point without HD symptoms—or other significant health problems. Many HD brothers and sisters of my generation are struggling with symptoms. 

Like so many in HD families and other difficult situations, I’ve learned to value each moment of life.

Others face different health issues. At this time last year, I lost two wonderful friends about my age, generous supporters of the HD cause, taken quickly and unexpectedly by other conditions. I’ve missed them dearly, and think about them daily as a reminder of the preciousness of life.

Tomorrow, I want to enjoy Thanksgiving.

God and nature willing, I’ll awake the next day ready to love my family, continue the fight to defeat HD, and dream of a day when a cure frees me to assist people less fortunate.

Happy Thanksgiving! And the best of health for you and yours.

Dreams for a better future: an opportunity we Huntington’s disease people and our families are denied

Because of its devastating medical and social impact, Huntington’s disease often forces affected individuals and their families to abandon their dreams.

After learning of my mother’s diagnosis for HD in 1995 and then testing positive for the deadly gene in 1999, I became aware of how the disease could damage family finances.

HD families not only lose the income of the affected individual; they also bear the costs of caring for that person, including nursing home fees. Sometimes the caregiver quits his or her own job in order to stay at home with the patient. Sometimes an exhausted caregiver even dies before the HD person.

Fearing such consequences, my wife Regina and I abandoned the idea of buying a retirement home in her native country of Brazil, in order to save more money to pay for my future care.

Our daughter tested negative for HD in the womb and is today a healthy 16-year-old. Unwilling to repeat the long and psychologically traumatic process of prenatal genetic testing, we decided to have no more children. That decision was especially painful for Regina.

Delving into the cause for a cure to save my deteriorating mother, I was compelled to add a new, fundamentally different dimension to my academic career: in addition to Brazilian history, I now also study the history of science, technology, and medicine. In this blog I have tracked the development of HD research, chronicled the HD cause as a social movement, and documented the new and harrowing human experience of living in the gray zone between a genetic test result and disease onset.

This new dimension has brought many rewards, but I often fantasize about what my career would be like if it weren’t for HD.

A diversion and a trigger

Brazil, my research passion, became simultaneously a diversion from and a potential trigger of HD onset. I eagerly looked forward to the escape to the wondrous culture of Brazil during my summer research trips.

However, with both HD and my intellectual legacy on my mind, each spring I prepared feverishly for those trips, packing into my schedule as many research tasks as possible – including meetings with Brazilian Huntington’s advocates. On the plane south, I worried about whether I was doing the best thing for my health. Relaxation and exercise in San Diego seemed more beneficial than living in hotels and eating restaurant food while exposing myself to the pollution and winter weather in the São Paulo megalopolis, where I did a lot of my work.

Facing HD, I couldn’t help but wonder if each trip might be my last.

Going international

As I became more deeply involved in HD advocacy and this blog over the past ten years, I lost some passion for Brazil research.

My mother’s death in 2006 figured heavily in that equation. As I watched her succumb to HD, I knew I would be the next to be stricken by the inevitable symptoms.

Research on Brazil sometimes seemed irrelevant. However, I kept at it, continuing a string of annual research visits stretching from 1986 to 2010, and again in 2013, 2015, and 2016. Today I consider myself bi-cultural, and my network of contacts in Brazil has made my HD advocacy international.

A new perspective

Lately, I’ve entered yet another stage of my journey with HD.

This year marked the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death. With time, memories of her struggle have become less frightening.

At the same time, something more important has occurred: at 56, the age at which my mother had involuntary movements and was losing her cognitive abilities, I have yet to develop any of the classic, visible signs of HD.

Scientists are getting closer to explaining the reasons for different age of onset in people like my mother and me who have the same degree of genetic defect (click here to read more). Unlike my mother, I’ve had the advantage of knowing that I carry the gene. So I have cared for my health more conscientiously.

After testing positive at age 39, I was convinced that I would by now have symptoms that would prevent me from working and traveling to Brazil.

I have been extremely lucky. As a result, my perspective has changed. I feel more optimistic about life because of the wonderful blessing of health that I currently enjoy.

Also, while in 1995 there was a dearth of potential HD remedies, today researchers run clinical trials in the quest for remedies to alleviate HD and perhaps even make it a manageable disease, thus allowing people to lead normal lives.

Having gotten this far, and looking back on two decades of advocacy, I am also somewhat more at peace with the fact that HD will inevitably strike me.

I know I am fighting the good fight. Ultimately, I cannot control my fate.

Taking a break from the cause

I took a break this summer from the HD cause. I devoted much of it to working on a long-gestating book project on former revolutionaries in power in Brazil, including Dilma Rousseff, the president of Brazil impeached in March and removed from office on August 31 by a vote of the Brazilian Senate. To grasp this important moment in Brazilian history, I have immersed myself in the events, including watching live video.

I had started the research on this project shortly after learning of my mother’s diagnosis. I had never imagined that at 56 I would still be able to write.

Focusing fully on Brazil again this summer, I felt in my element.

I did feel guilty this summer about not responding immediately to some requests for help from members of HD families.

However, I also recalled how many HD people give up on their dreams. I thought specifically of one asymptomatic gene carrier who decided to put advocacy aside and dedicate himself fully to a promising career.

“I have a right to self-fulfillment, too,” I told my psychotherapist. “I have given up so much because of HD. I really want to finish my book on Brazil.”

All HD-affected individuals and their families have the right to their own dreams!

That’s what we in the HD community are fighting to restore.

A stark reminder of HD

The gravity of our struggle hit home again on September 13, when Laura Rivard, Ph.D., invited me to attend a screening of the HBO documentary The Lion’s Mouth Opens in her course Ethical Issues in Genetics at the University of San Diego. (In a future article, I will explore HD and bioethics in the context of Dr. Rivard’s course.)

The film portrays filmmaker-actress Marianna Palka’s decision to test for HD. Before class, Dr. Rivard’s students also watched a video of me, produced by one of her former students, in which I discuss my own experiences with genetic testing (click here to watch the video).

The scenes with HD people moving uncontrollably starkly reminded me of my mother – and once again of my own terrible burden as a gene carrier.

Our biggest dream: an effective treatment

After we watched Marianna learn from a geneticist that she carries the HD gene, I answered students’ questions.

One asked: “Do days ever go by when you totally forget about your diagnosis, or is it always in the back of your mind?”

“It’s almost always in the back of my mind,” I responded.

However, I added: “I haven’t blogged since May. This is one of the longest periods I’ve gone without blogging.”

I explained that my Brazil book had priority over the summer.

“I’ve been able to put Huntington’s disease aside for the first time in many years,” I said. “It’s really nice to wake up some days and think about Brazil instead of Huntington’s disease.”

After leaving Dr. Rivard’s class, I remembered that the battle for treatments continues. It’s a battle that we need to win.

Like others affected by HD, I don’t want to become a financial and caregiving burden for my family. And like others, I want to experience the joys of family milestones, such as seeing my daughter graduate from college and start adult life without the worry of an incapacitated father.

An effective treatment will make that possible. Right now, that is our biggest dream.