At HDF symposium, a Huntington’s disease ‘hero’ who prays for scientists to find a cure

 

Recognizing the invaluable input from people living with Huntington’s disease, the Hereditary Disease Foundation (HDF) featured a conversation with Michael, a 62-year-old HD-affected Boston man, at its biennial conference of scientists seeking therapies for this incurable disorder.

 

Michael was interviewed about his HD symptoms by neurologist Diana Rosas, M.D., of Harvard University and Massachusetts General Hospital.

 

Titled “Living with Huntington’s Disease: Family Perspectives,” this HDF tradition of focusing on an HD-affected person took place on August 8 during HD2024: Milton Wexler Biennial Symposium. Convening some 300 researchers, biopharma officials, and advocates, the event ran August 7-10 at the Royal Sonesta Boston Hotel in Cambridge, MA.

 

HD usually impedes speech. I saw that affecting my mother. She died of the disorder at 68 in 2006, after two decades of symptoms, and I carry the HD gene.

 

Michael struggled but persistently formed words and sentences. “I pray for everybody,” Michael said, referring to the quest for therapies, during the Q&A after the interview.

 

Michael’s former wife attended in support of his advocacy, as did his two sons, both in their 20s.

 

Michael (left), who has Huntington's disease, and his physician, Diana Rosas, M.D. (photo by Gene Veritas, aka Kenneth P. Serbin)

 

A diagnosis in 2017

 

Born in Chicago, Michael grew up in Princeton, NJ. As a young adult he moved to Boston, where he studied to become a French chef. He spent a year traveling through France to master his profession. He worked in several restaurants in Boston and also at Gillette Stadium for the NFL’s New England Patriots.

 

Michael believes his father had HD, although he was never formally diagnosed, due to the limited knowledge about the disease as Michael grew up in the 1970s. His father was also an alcoholic. Michael’s aunt also suffered from HD and went into a care home.

 

Michael was diagnosed with HD in 2017.

 

It became ‘too dangerous and messy’ to cook

 

Dr. Rosas is Michael’s physician. As she noted, many lab researchers have little contact with HD-affected individuals. The interview aimed to inform them of the complex triad of symptoms and many psychosocial challenges posed by HD.

 

Dr. Rosas asked Michael to address questions about the first type of symptoms: movement disorders, including involuntary movements.

 

These symptoms, Michael explained, caused him to stop cooking: it had become “too dangerous and messy.” It also became harder to dress himself.

 

Typical of HD patients (including my mother), Michael has suffered several serious falls, leading to a broken wrist, ribs, neck, a punctured lung, and a subdural hematoma (a serious injury to the head). Though he had participated in research conducted by Dr. Rosas, the hematoma has prevented him from participating in clinical trials, because of a restriction by pharmaceutical companies.

 

“I like helping out however I can,” he said of his participation in research.

 

Michael, who lives alone, does have a chocolate labrador retriever that he walks.

 

Michael used to drink alcohol daily and smoke heavily. The drinking caused one of his falls, he said. He quit both habits. Alcohol was a “big part” of his life, he recalled, adding that he doesn’t “miss the days of drinking.”

 

A greatly modified daily routine

 

Dr. Rosas brought up another part of the HD triad: cognitive loss, executive dysfunction, and failing memory.

 

Michael observed that his loss of executive function prevented him from cooking, which had required preparing items and “lots of multitasking.”

 

Though he “can remember my bank card number,” he has ongoing difficulties with memory. He pays his cable and phone bills but has an accountant to assist with his overall finances. He still cares for two salt-water fish tanks, an activity he took up in his 20s.

 

Michael arises at 6 a.m., when he takes his medications: risperidone, an antipsychotic, twice daily; deluxotine for depression; and a multi-vitamin. He also takes medical marijuana.

 

After some small accidents, Michael stopped driving, now relying on Uber.

 

Overcoming impulsiveness and depression

 

Regarding the third part of the triad, psychiatric and mood disorders, Dr. Rosas observed that HD-affected individuals can become fixated or impulsive.

 

Michael agreed that this has affected him, recalling that his drinking also led him to be “very impulsive.” He also suffers from depression. Many HD-affected people become angry when faced with unexpected changes in their daily routine. Michael has also experienced this type of anger. Getting over the anger can take time, he added.

 

Like many of the affected, Michael also has difficulties sleeping. His drinking had exacerbated this problem.

 

“It’s like your mind and body are always on with HD,” he observed.

 

Indeed, HD-affected individuals burn lots of calories. Dr. Rosas recommends five meals per day, although Michael said he eats three to four. 

 

Dr. Rosas interviews Michael about his HD symptoms (photo by Gene Veritas).

 

‘You are a hero!”

 

In the Q&A following the interview, Michael expanded on aspects of his life.

 

One has involved his relationship with his ex-wife and sons. Michael said that the divorce occurred around the time of his diagnosis and was “probably” the result of it.

 

Michael saluted his former spouse as “one of my huge supporters. I haven’t had a girlfriend after my divorce. We were married for 24 years.”

 

He said that he has “two great kids” who are “successful and happy.”

 

Michael also socializes with friends, some of them also divorced.

 

Asked about the work of the researchers, Michael said, “I love them to death.” He added that he is looking forward to new advances.

 

Dr. Rosas asked what most worries Michael about HD.

 

“I suppose going to a home, going to an assisted living situation,” he said.

 

His capacity to manage on his own prompted praise. “You are a hero!” declared Tacie Fox, a family advocate and co-trustee of The Fox Family Foundation (which supports HD research), leading the audience to applaud enthusiastically.

 

“It feels like you have somehow navigated in a way that brings you joy in your life,” she added. “We’re struggling with that with my little sister. She watches a lot of TV. I’m in awe that you, living on your own, have marshaled that inner strength.”

 

The key role of modifier genes

 

At 64, I have been extremely fortunate to have not been diagnosed with HD. It is likely that I have benefited from modifier genes and other factors.

 

Like the rest of the audience, I was deeply moved by Michael’s courage and perseverance in living with HD.

 

I hope that when the inevitable symptoms arrive, I will have the same strength as Michael.

 

Stay tuned for upcoming articles on the conference proceedings, including deep discussion of the key role of modifier genes in the search for therapies.

 

Disclosure: the Hereditary Disease Foundation covered my travel expenses.

New book by longtime advocate describes Milton Wexler’s incomparable contributions to Huntington’s disease research and beyond

 

A new book portrays the largely unexplored personal and psychological context of the quest to understand and defeat Huntington’s disease: a biographical memoir of Milton Wexler (1908-2007), the founder of the Hereditary Disease Foundation (HDF) and key mover in the discovery of the HD gene.

 

In late 2022, Wexler’s daughter, historian Alice Wexler, published The Analyst: A Daughter’s Memoir (Columbia University Press). She is a longtime Huntington’s disease advocate and chronicler of the cause.

 

The Analyst adds unique dimensions to HD history, building on Alice’s groundbreaking work. In 1995 she authored Mapping Fate: a memoir of family, risk, and genetic research (first published by Random House and Times Books, then reissued by the University of California Press). In 2008, she wrote The Woman Who Walked into the Sea: Huntington’s and the Making of a Genetic Disease (Yale University Press).

 

This year marks the 30th anniversary of the discovery of the huntingtin gene, announced in March 1993. Through the HDF and in collaboration with a global team of scientists, Milton and his neuropsychologist daughter Nancy, Alice’s sister, spearheaded the hunt for the gene, as recounted in Mapping Fate. In The Woman Who Walked into the Sea, Alice explored the social and medical history of HD in the 19th and 20th centuries, helping explain the stigma HD families still face.

 

The sisters’ mother Leonore was diagnosed with HD at the age of 53 in 1968. That led Milton to immediately start the HDF, which focused on the development of treatments.

 

In 1993 the discovery of huntingtin “immediately transformed Huntington’s research,” Alice writes in The Analyst. “Suddenly it was possible for researchers to make animal and cell models and study how the gene worked at the cellular and molecular level. They could test drugs and other molecules in mice and sheep, fish and flies, as well as in human beings.”

 

Milton was “ecstatic and also relieved,” Alice recalls. “We even allowed ourselves to imagine that a treatment, and possibly a cure, might be on the horizon.” HDF-sponsored researchers and other scientists around the globe are still striving to achieve that goal.

 

 

Meeting’s life’s difficult challenges

 

Drawing on access to her father’s extensive personal correspondence, her diary, and archival sources enabled Alice, with decades of hindsight, to present her father’s story – in which the fight against HD became his life mission – in intimate detail.

 

Describing Milton, Alice is meticulous, often critical, but always loving – a reflection of the complex relationship of a highly successful professional with daughters that he wanted the best for and whose lives he fought for. She adds a valuable feminist perspective, for example, interpreting her father’s friendships by analyzing masculinity and male intimacy in the 1950s.

 

In addition to Milton’s incomparable contributions to HD research, The Analyst depicts key aspects of American life in the second half of the 20th century. It delves into Jewish life in Brooklyn, which spurred Milton’s ambitions, taking him to Kansas and then to Los Angeles.

 

Portraying her father’s main career as a psychoanalyst, Alice helps to rescue the history of a field that has lost relevance with the emergence of other forms of therapy, though it continues as an intellectual field. Milton saw great value in psychoanalysis’s way of helping people understand their emotions but he increasingly practiced more direct forms of therapy, focused on the here-and-now. As he put it, “insight alone does not change behavior.”

 

Alice demonstrates how much of Milton's early career trying to understand and treat schizophrenia helped him to confront this other knotty problem, HD.

 

In an appendix, The Analyst lists “sayings of Milton Wexler” – including a 1998 note to a President Bill Clinton in crisis – regarding challenges such as the loss of a child, self-defeat, depression, personal identity, loneliness, and risk for a disease such as HD.

 

Milton’s embrace of talk therapy is a key reminder for HD families overwhelmed by the disease's  many social and personal challenges that help is available, and that individual and family therapy can make a difference. He believed that people should not have to struggle on their own.

 

In Los Angeles, Milton became a therapist for many in the arts and entertainment – a practice that he parlayed into significant donations for the HDF.

 

(Click here to read more about my own journey with psychoanalysis as an aid to fighting HD.)

 

‘The nightmare is the children’

 

With new material and perspective, Alice expands on the difficult moments described in Mapping Fate regarding  Leonore’s diagnosis, Milton’s deep fears that his daughters would be affected, and his  “frantic search for information” about HD and scientific contacts that in a matter of weeks spurred the concept of the HDF.

 

Leonore’s diagnosis and HD were “the great poison in my life,” Milton wrote his brother Henry in May 1968 in a letter uncovered by Alice. “But the nightmare is the children.[…] For me there is only dread in the air.”

 

Milton divorced Leonore but nevertheless cared for her impeccably and guaranteed her financial security. Leonore died in 1978 at 63, ten years after her diagnosis..

 

Providing intellectual fuel

 

With his background in psychology and prior experience as an attorney, Milton advocated for a multidisciplinary approach to solving HD and other neurological disorders. He championed the interplay of psychoanalysis and neuroscience in a move critical for HD research. He also grasped the growing importance of molecular genetics and its potential value for Huntington’s.

 

From this perspective Milton developed unique HDF workshops involving informal, spontaneous discussion – as opposed to dry scientific presentations with slides – as the main driver of the search for the HD gene and the quest for treatments. The first took place in 1971. Held in hotel rooms or at universities, these gatherings typically involved 15 to 20 participants.

 

As Alice reports, Milton believed that real creativity resulted from “casual conversation and carefree association among people in the same or related disciplines.”

 

While finding prestigious veteran scientists for HDF’s advisory board, Milton recruited younger researchers, including women, as the organization’s intellectual fuel.

 

As Alice observes, the HDF formed part of a trend in which “philanthropy assumed an increasingly influential role in funding science and meeting social needs.” Contributions to the HDF swelled. It established an endowment to fund future workshops and critical research grants.

 

The challenges of genetic testing

 

Alice reflects on her family’s monumental role in finding the gene and also the irony that neither she nor her sister chose to get the genetic test – a test which “opened a Pandora’s box of legal, social, and ethical challenges and raised many personal questions for Nancy and me.”

 

The test developed shortly after the 1993 discovery of huntingtin enabled 100 percent accuracy in detecting the HD mutation. Prior to this, research had established that each child of an affected parent has a 50-50 chance of inheriting that mutation. As Alice showed in The Woman Who Walked into the Sea, deep stigma and discrimination increased around HD in the 1900s.

 

“None of us considered the possibility of the genetic test to resolve the uncertainty,” Alice writes, referring to the time when she began noticing subtle changes in Nancy. “For all our knowledge of psychology, we turned to denial, that most primitive of defenses. We worried, we wondered, and then we denied. It simply could not be.”

 

Indeed, to this day, only about ten percent of persons at risk for HD choose to be tested.

 

At 81, Alice has not developed symptoms. In 2020, Nancy revealed her HD diagnosis to the New York Times. At 78, she bravely struggles with HD symptoms yet keeps abreast of the latest scientific developments. She now works with a writer on her memoir.

 

Solidarity and hope

 

Along with Mapping Fate and The Woman Who Walked into the Sea, Alice’s warm portrayal of her father in The Analyst shows how he helped the HD community advance in understanding the disorder and seek anxiously awaited treatments to slow, stop, or reverse the disease.

 

Milton lived a full, fascinating, and challenging life, dying peacefully in 2007 at age 98, at Alice and Nancy’s side. In multiple ways, he serves as a model – especially for the idea that when faced with an enormous and difficult challenge, becoming an activist can be the best form of  therapy.

 

The legacy of the discovery of huntingtin, as well as HDF’s scientific leadership, help build solidarity and hope for a better future for HD and all other neurodegenerative diseases.

 

 

Milton Wexler flanked by daughters Nancy (left) and Alice in 1992 (photo by Mariana Cook)

CHDI keynoter Charlotte Raven reflects on her fight against Huntington’s disease and the dashed hopes of a clinical trial

 

Like many affected by Huntington’s disease, renowned British journalist Charlotte Raven longed for the chance to participate in a clinical trial of a potential treatment for the incurable disorder.

 

Charlotte was diagnosed with Huntington’s in 2005. She inherited the genetic mutation from her father, who, after a long battle, died from HD in 2016.

 

In 2019 Charlotte had her wish fulfilled in London. As part of its HD clinical trial program to evaluate the efficacy of tominersen – the historic first attempt to attack the disease at its genetic roots – the pharmaceutical giant Roche was recruiting volunteers for GEN-PEAK, a small, Phase 1 study run in tandem with the larger, main, Phase 3 study.

 

Charlotte became “patient 1,” the first individual in GEN-PEAK to receive tominersen. If successful, the main trial would result in all participants in the program, including GEN-PEAK volunteers, receiving the treatment.

 

In her keynote speech at the recent 17th Annual HD Therapeutics Conference, Charlotte recalled the immense hope she felt about tominersen, shared by HD families around the globe: “Ever since I’d been picked to be on the trial, I’d woken up every morning thinking about the drug. It was like being in love. It was what I needed, wanted, looked forward to.”

 

A heartrending presentation

 

Those hopes were dashed on March 22, 2021, with Roche’s announcement that it was halting dosing of tominersen because of unfavorable efficacy data.

 

“Now that pinprick of light had been blacked out,” Charlotte told the 300 researchers, biopharma executives, and advocates gathered at the conference, held in Palm Springs, CA, and sponsored by CHDI Foundation, the nonprofit virtual biotech firm dedicated to developing HD therapies. “The world ended again; it felt exactly the same as the moment of my original diagnosis.”

 

Struggling with HD symptoms and assisted by her twelve-year-old son John, Charlotte bravely delivered a heartrending presentation, reading from a computer screen. Because Charlotte’s speech is slurred, the audience was provided access to an online script. She received a standing ovation.

 

Despite the bad news of 2021, drug hunters expressed renewed optimism about potential therapies. As reported in my previous article, the ensuing three days of scientific talks focused on multiple approaches. Indeed, Roche said it would test tominersen again in an improved clinical trial.

 

Assisted by son John, Charlotte delivers her keynote address (photo by Gene Veritas, aka Kenneth P. Serbin).

 

‘Feeling your personality crumble’

 

Charlotte’s keynote traced her career as an ambitious and controversial journalist and social commentator, her family’s fight against HD, and her efforts to cope with the symptoms and resulting limitations on her work and life.

 

The speech echoed Charlotte’s book Patient 1: Forgetting and Finding Myself, published last November. CHDI gave each conference attendee a copy.

 

In Patient 1, Charlotte provides a detailed, hauntingly beautiful portrait of the challenges posed by HD to both her and her extended family. Writing with help from her brother Daniel, as yet untested for the mutation, Charlotte intimately describes the toll HD has taken on her, robbing her of her memories and producing crippling anxiety.

 

“I wanted this book to be an accurate record of what it is like to exist with HD and to feel your brain and personality crumble,” Charlotte writes.

 

It also includes the first published account of the Roche program from a patient perspective.

 

‘A new leaf of hope’

 

During her CHDI keynote, to rest, Charlotte took two short breaks.

 

In the first interlude, with Charlotte looking on, her daughter Anna, 17, took the stage to speak of the special bond she has developed with her mother because of HD.

 

“Growing up under the shadow of Huntington’s has meant I’m often not the only priority, and sacrifices need to be made to make sure that my mom is properly looked after,” said Anna, who helps care for her mother.

 

Untested, both Anna and John have a 50-50 chance of inheriting the HD mutation. HD genetic testing protocols recommend against testing before age 18.

 

“Seeing and hearing about all these people working and researching to find treatments amazes me every day and makes everything seem a little less bleak,” Anna said. “The future for me, my brother, and my mom is unknown, but we have a new leaf of hope, and for that I would like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

 

In the second interlude, Charlotte’s neurologist and clinical trial physician, Ed Wild, M.D., Ph.D., described her intellectual mettle. Dr. Wild wrote the Afterword to Patient 1. At the conference, he also recalled how “injecting 120 milligrams of tominersen into Charlotte’s spine in 2019” was one of his “proudest moments” in his career of helping HD patients.

 

Watch the entire keynote presentation in the video below, which includes the option of closed captioning.

 

 

The best team for defeating HD

 

Charlotte finished the speech with a tribute to researchers and a reflection on how confronting HD has “humbled me, and helped me connect more with the people around me, which is a new skill that I’ve been working on with commitment and persistence.”

 

“GEN-PEAK may have turned out to be a blind alley, but it was still a step on the journey towards a cure, and I still feel proud to have been part of it,” she said. “I’ve lived a fairly selfish life in lots of ways, so it seems oddly fitting that this last thing I did to save myself, might end up saving others instead.”

 

Charlotte noted an irony: she could write Patient 1, with its portrayal of HD's impact, only because the disease had mentally “compromised” her.

 

“I feel like I’ve finally been able to portray my family and friends as they really are instead of as I’d like them to be,” she added. “They are coming to life.”

 

She concluded: “Anna and I cannot get over how HD is such a rare disease, yet somehow attracts so many of the world’s brightest and best scientists. In my complicated journey with empathy, this is the most striking gift I can imagine.”

Bidding farewell to my ‘mind coach,’ a major ally in in my fight to avoid Huntington’s disease

 

In December, my psychotherapist will retire, ending for me a professional relationship of 24 years that became the most personal of bonds and an emotional bulwark in my fight to delay – and prepare for – the inevitable onset of Huntington’s disease.

 

I had consulted therapists in my twenties and early thirties for non-HD-related matters. However, after my mother’s diagnosis with HD in 1995 and her inexorable physical and mental decline, I spiraled downward into clinical depression and anxiety. I needed more profound, long-term psychological support.

 

I contacted the local psychoanalytic society, which, after an intake interview, put me in touch with a psychoanalyst who best matched my needs and goals. I was fortunate that she proved to be a good fit. I recommend a proactive attitude about therapy, with a willingness to ask questions, and, if necessary, switching to another analyst or therapist.

 

For me, so began a journey of seeking greater personal and social enrichment. HD researchers and physicians have long encouraged a healthy lifestyle, although no one has found evidence to prove its effect. However, as discussed below, scientists are seeking ways to use HD-affected individuals’ sense of meaning and purpose as a possible path to alleviating symptoms.

 

My psychotherapist has certainly helped me build meaning and purpose not just in my fight against HD, but in life in general.

 

As the format of my therapy went from classic psychoanalysis (multiple sessions per week lying on a couch) to a face-to-face encounter on a weekly, bi-weekly, and then monthly basis, I have referred to my therapist in different ways.

 

“My therapist is like a personal trainer,” I wrote in 2009. “She’s my mind coach. She helps me keep my mind working at its best to meet the challenges of living at risk for HD, just as a personal trainer or coach helps a professional athlete keep his body in top shape.”

 

Gene Veritas, aka Kenneth P. Serbin (photo by Yi Sun, Ph.D.)

 

Psychoanalysis: unleashing personal growth

 

Founded by the Viennese doctor Sigmund Freud in the early 1900s, psychoanalysis became the basis for modern talk therapies, in which the patient shares inner thoughts with the analyst, or therapist.

 

Although in the United States in the latter 20th century psychoanalysis was reduced to a small branch of the burgeoning psychological profession, it remained important in parts of Latin America, including Brazil, my second home. I researched the history of the Roman Catholic Church in Brazil for my Ph.D. dissertation, published as Needs of the Heart in 2006.

 

From the 1960s to 1980s, the Brazilian Church became the world’s most progressive. In Needs of the Heart, I wrote that in this period Brazil helped give birth to the important and controversial

liberation theology, “but also to liberation psychology, whose implications for the Church were even more revolutionary than the new theology.”

 

“Liberation psychology had a dual significance,” I asserted, referring to psychology in the broad sense, including psychoanalysis and many other approaches. “It could free people not only from poverty of spirit and mind but also from the repressive structures of Catholicism.” Liberation psychology sought to release people from such beliefs as the need to repress sexuality and unquestioningly accept religious authority. This history resonated deeply with my Catholic upbringing.

 

Igor Caruso, a Viennese Russian Orthodox analyst and an inspiration for Brazil’s pioneers of liberation psychology, viewed psychoanalysis as ultimately an encounter of love “between two unique and equally valuable personalities.” As I wrote, he believed that without love, there was no cure.

 

One leading priest-analyst in Brazil described psychoanalysis as a “special grace received from God” because of the profound self-discovery and personal growth it unleashed in people.

 

Although psychoanalysis in the U.S. fell behind other areas of psychology and medicine in terms of scientific innovation, it has, with the rise of neuroscience and molecular biology, experienced a renaissance. Using brain imaging, researchers have been exploring how different types of psychotherapy, including psychoanalysis, affect brain structure. (For details, see Nobel Prize laureate and brain scientist Dr. Eric Kandel’s In Search of Memory.)

 

Also, as I experienced, psychoanalysis could be aided with psychiatric medications.

 

About a year after learning about my mother’s HD diagnosis, during a year-long research stay in Brazil, I did therapy with a local analyst for several months. She urged me to continue analysis in the U.S. after my return in mid-1997.

 

Sharing the trials and triumphs of the HD cause

 

I, too, became liberated by psychoanalysis. As is often the case, the process took years.

 

In December 1997, I met my analyst for the first time. After a few preliminary weekly conversations, I lay on my therapist’s couch four times weekly, for 45 minutes, over about five years.

 

I always paid out-of-pocket: my insurance did not cover psychoanalysis. Fortunately, the psychoanalytic society sought to help people of all income levels. In retrospect, paying privately gave me a greater sense of security about confidentiality, because (in one of those terrible ironies of the U.S. health system!) I was deliberately keeping my HD status from my health plan, for fear of discrimination and losing my health coverage, until fully going public in 2012 (click here to read more).

 

As we talked, my analyst took copious notes on my thoughts and asked questions. I spoke mainly about my fears, feelings, and past, especially with regard to my relationship to my family, in particular my mother, who was slowly dying of Huntington’s.

 

My therapist listened intently and compassionately to my many struggles with HD and, more than anyone else, came to know how my fear of the disease – along with other factors – hindered clear thinking and the ability to enjoy life. She also shared my pride and joy in the many fundraising and awareness-building triumphs I achieved with others for the local chapter of the Huntington’s Disease Society of America (HDSA).

 

My psychotherapist helped me cope with the impact of my positive test for the HD mutation in 1999, my daughter’s negative test in the womb in 2000, and my mother’s death from HD in 2006.

 

Descending into the bedrock

 

By early 2003, we had reached a point in the analysis where I needed – and wanted ­– to descend into what I called the “bedrock,” the deepest, most difficult feelings, fears, and memories, which are the hardest to access and confront. Rooted in childhood and adolescence, they long preceded my family’s struggles with HD. However, I seemed incapable of entering the bedrock. Part of my mind resisted both my therapist, and myself, preventing me from being completely honest with myself and gaining more self-understanding.

 

My therapist gently pushed me to consider psychiatric medication to overcome that resistance.

 

Holding a Ph.D., but not an M.D., my therapist could not prescribe medicines, leading me to work with psychiatrists at my health plan.

 

That process proved difficult and frustrating; rather than specify my true concerns to these doctors, who knew nothing of my HD status, I had to speak in generalities.

 

Finding a winning combination

 

In addition, finding the right medication and the right dosage required years of trial and error. My first attempt, with Zoloft (sertraline), nearly proved disastrous: while driving my wife and daughter, I blanked out and ran the car onto the curb. Luckily, no one was injured. I immediately quit the medication.

 

Next, Prozac (fluoxetine) left me disoriented and extremely drowsy, so I was switched to Zyprexa (olanzapine). My mother was also taking this drug for her HD symptoms as an alternative to Haldol. Haldol was one of the standard prescriptions for HD but, we heard from the HD community, not recommended in many cases.

 

With worsening clinical depression and especially anxiety after my mother’s death in 2006, and working with a highly sympathetic psychiatrist (but who still did not know my risk for HD), I found a winning combination of escitalopram and risperidone for the respective conditions.

 

Since the late 1990s, I had also taken trazodone for sleep but quit in 2016 because I had improved on that front considerably. I have also wanted to avoid overloading my system with medications.

 

In contrast with Zoloft and Prozac, escitalopram and risperidone apparently did not cause any unpleasant side effects, although, according to my doctors, I have taken these last two drugs at very low doses. A general caution I heard from doctors: certain antidepressants can negatively impact sexual function.

 

Taking these medications was a huge step, because growing up I learned that psychological counseling and especially anything psychiatric were taboo and seen as shameful by many in my extended family.

 

Fear of HD diminished dramatically

 

In my late 40s, this successful treatment of escitalopram and risperidone relieved me of depression and greatly reduced my anxiety. In tandem with my therapy, these drugs finally helped me psychologically to feel as well as I ever had in my adult life. I have now taken them at the same dosage for more than a decade, and will do so for the foreseeable future.

 

Entering the bedrock, I continued to gain new insights with my therapist. The fear of unconditionally trusting her disappeared. I was able to comprehend my psyche. I became more perceptive and more self-aware – and also more accepting of others and more loving towards my family.

 

My fear of HD diminished dramatically – even though I knew that each day brought me closer to the likely onset.

 

I have the normal ups and downs we all have, but the medications continue to help keep me stable.

 

The benefits of stability

 

In 2011, my therapist helped me prepare for, and then marveled at, a major achievement in my HD advocacy, the first major step outside the “terrible and lonely HD closet”: my keynote speech at the Sixth Annual HD Therapeutics Conference, sponsored by CHDI Foundation, Inc., the nonprofit virtual biotech firm that is the largest private funder of efforts to develop treatments.

 

My therapist provided support for another milestone, and the beginning of the fully public phase of my advocacy: the publication of my article “Racing Against the Genetic Clock” in The Chronicle of Higher Education in 2012.

 

Psychological stability enabled me to work ever more effectively as an advocate and to concentrate on activities such as exercise that have bolstered my health. By then, I had also come off the couch, and our meetings became less frequent.

 

My therapist also became a regular reader of this blog. In some sessions, we have discussed concerns I have expressed in articles. On other occasions, therapy has helped suggest blog topics.

 

My therapist has been a true friend and partner in the fight against HD!

 

A broad strategy for avoiding symptoms

 

In recent years, as I have proceeded into my sixties, I have reflected on how I have so far avoided HD symptoms. On September 17, during my annual neurological checkup, the doctor found no signs of HD. My mother became symptomatic in her late forties and died at age 68. (Click here to read more.)

 

Psychotherapy forms part of a broad range of interrelated strategies for keeping healthy, including physical and mental exercise, blogging on HD, and taking supplements, some of which were ultimately proved ineffective. I also eat a healthy diet, and I meditate and practice spirituality. I have the benefit of a stable, solid-paying job and a close relationship with my wife and daughter.

 

As psychotherapy has helped enrich my life, it has also given me a greater overall sense of meaning and purpose.

 

Researchers are carefully studying these factors as a way to alleviate symptoms.

 

Meaning and purpose are key

 

In July, a team of twelve researchers published “Meaning and purpose in Huntington’s disease: a longitudinal study of its impact on quality of life,” in Annals of Clinical and Translational Neurology, a journal of the American Neurological Association.

 

The researchers studied 322 HD-affected individuals: 50 just starting to experience symptoms, 171 with early-stage disease, and 101 with late-stage disease. The participants did both an in-person assessment and an online survey. Data were collected between 2012 and 2016.

 

The results of the study demonstrated that “higher” meaning and purpose were “positively associated” with “positive affect [mood] and well-being,” the researchers stated.

 

Meaning and purpose also were associated with “decreased depression, anxiety, anger, emotional/behavioral disruptions, and cognitive decline at 12 and 24 months across all disease stages,” they wrote.

 

More research needed

 

The article pointed out the study’s limitations: correlation does not necessarily mean causation.

 

Thus, the researchers recognized the need to verify their findings with “additional instrumentation” to measure the connection between meaning and purpose and the patient-reported data. The study also did not account for possible bias from people on “psychoactive medications.”

 

Nevertheless, the researchers described the study as a “compelling first step” toward understanding the primary mechanism behind meaning and purpose – and how they might improve quality of life in HD-affected individuals.

 

Finding ways to help patients

 

The researchers concluded that their findings “parallel” those seen in those affected by cancer and might help point the way to “palliative HD interventions,” approaches that might relieve symptoms without removing the root cause.

 

They also pointed to the value of psychotherapy. They cited articles from studies of cancer patients and other conditions focusing on psychotherapy and other palliative measures such as spirituality.

 

Critically, a sense of meaning and purpose “may serve as a resiliency factor for suicide in people with the HD gene in that it can impact factors associated with suicidal ideation (e.g., depression, anxiety) as well as suicidal behaviors (e.g., impulsivity and anger).”

 

As the article pointed out, and as is well-known in the HD community, “suicide is a leading cause of death.”

 

Nostalgia, and looking ahead

 

As I read the journal article, I recalled my own fantasies about suicide in the first few years after my mother’s diagnosis and as I worried whether I had inherited the mutation.

 

The birth of our daughter in 2000 gave me immense meaning and purpose. I stopped thinking about suicide as a way to escape HD. My fight against HD became not only advocacy for the cure, but a personal quest to maintain stable health so that I could see my daughter grow up.

 

My mind coach has been an invaluable companion in this journey.

 

As we have our final sessions, I will become deeply sad. It feels like a lifelong friend moving to another city, with little chance of a visit.

 

My therapist and I have discussed the pain of separation. As usual, she will be helping me to remain stable and find a good path forward.

 

With nostalgia, we have also discussed the tremendous progress I have made, including the highlights of my HD advocacy.

 

In July, I began meeting occasionally with another therapist, so that I have psychological support beyond my mind coach’s retirement.

 

I am looking forward to discovering another ally in the fight against Huntington’s.