Striving to overcome the doom of Huntington’s disease

Usually, I experience a whirlwind of emotions during and especially immediately after the annual Huntington’s Disease Therapeutics Conference, held in Palm Springs, CA.

This year, however, intensifying my advocacy in what I call the “HD movement,” I feel that I’ve reached another level of engagement. Paradoxically, at the same time, I feel that I’ve attained greater calm and insight regarding the disease and its impact on the community.

After my last article – on the pathbreaking scientific evidence suggesting how and why the HD age of onset varies widely and how I’ve reached 60 healthy – I’ve read stories in Facebook HD groups confirming that variability.

Some pointed to extremely early, very tragic onset, but others resonated with my (very fortunate) situation of having gone more than a decade beyond the point of my mother’s first symptoms. Significantly, scientists are seeking ways to use the biological mechanisms behind delayed onset to produce treatments.

As I pondered those more optimistic scenarios, I thought: “Does HD have to be only a story of doom?”

Clearly, in many instances, it still is.

On February 19, at the packed, moving screening of the HD documentary Dancing at the Vatican at my university, one HD family member recalled how, out of ignorance, both a parent and a grandparent had been kept in a straightjacket.

However, the collective celebration of the film’s portrayal of Pope Francis’ historic audience with HD families in Rome also demonstrated how far the HD cause has come. Thanks to Francis – but also to thousands of family members and advocates around the world – HD is “hidden no more.”

A life-size stand-up poster of Pope Francis at the February 19 screening of Dancing at the Vatican at the University of San Diego (photo by Gene Veritas)

How far we've come

An illuminating panel discussion at the screening illustrated how awareness has grown on all fronts. The presence of representatives from four biotech sponsors underscored the growing commitment to discover effective treatments.

The evening of February 21, the mother of a young man who died of juvenile HD left me a voicemail. She spoke of how the near-20-year struggle to care for her son led her to develop bipolar disorder and PTSD.

That sounds devastating. However, she also reminded me of an important trend in the HD community, in which the affected are no longer referred to as “HD people” but as “people with HD.”

“You’re not Huntington’s disease,” she said. “How could I ever look at my son and think, ‘disease?’”

At this evening’s opening of the 15th Annual HD Therapeutics Conference, sponsored by CHDI Foundation, Inc., I will have renewed hope for the development of effective treatments. As understanding of the disease has evolved, so have the approaches to achieving those treatments.

On February 27, conference attendees will hear a report on a clinical study investigating RG6042, the gene-silencing drug also currently under evaluation in a Phase 3 clinical trial run by Roche.

If successful, that trial will have produced the first treatment to slow, halt, and perhaps even reverse HD.

That could signal the end of doom for tens of thousands of HD-affected families around the world.

The little things that are really big: caregiving in families with Huntington’s disease

The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the agony of the headlines – Charles Kuralt

As a member of a Huntington’s disease family, I have become deeply familiar with the common yet often unheralded human practice of caregiving.

My “HD warrior” father Paul Serbin cared for my HD-stricken mother Carol for more than a decade.

My mother died ten years ago this week. Her passing sent me into a months-long dual spiral of anxiety and depression: I had inherited the HD gene from her, and seeing her demise provided a portent of my own future (click here to read more).

Because of the inevitability of HD onset, I know that I too will require caregiving.

Furthermore, as a father, I’ve spent the past fifteen years helping my wife Regina raise our daughter Bianca, a special form of caregiving. Bianca tested negative in the womb, thus avoiding the specter of juvenile Huntington’s. As we teach her to drive and begin discussions about college, our role as parents becomes both more rewarding yet more complex.

Three weeks ago, the balance shifted, as Bianca and I became temporary caregivers for Regina: she underwent an operation to repair a torn rotator cuff and must keep her right arm in a sling for at least six weeks.

Completely interdependent

Caregiving is about all of the little – but really big – things we humans do for each other.

It’s how families, hospitals, and nursing homes run.

We are completely interdependent.

As we’ve helped Regina over the past several weeks, the meaning of caregiving has become ever more clear to me.

It involves small but important tasks: bathing her, spraying on deodorant, buttoning her shirt, adjusting her sling, driving her to doctor’s and physical therapy appointments, taking over her share of car pool duties, providing assistance in the kitchen, exercising her disabled arm – these and many more tasks have highlighted for me the importance of caregiving, taught me to be more sensitive to Regina’s needs, and reminded me of what’s most important in life.

Despite a busy high school life, Bianca has helped out, too.

It’s brought us closer together.

Bianca (left), Regina, and Kenneth Serbin (aka Gene Veritas) (photo by Bianca Serbin)

Valid and important emotions

I’m certainly no saint. I’ve done my share of grumbling! And sometimes I feel overwhelmed.

As I’ve learned from news items posted on Facebook HD discussion pages, caregiving experts say it’s okay to experience feelings associated with caregiving such as anger, boredom, frustration, and impatience.

“Whether you become a caregiver gradually or all of sudden due to a crisis, or whether you are a caregiver willingly or by default, many emotions surface when you take on the job of caregiving,” a recent article at Dementia Today states. “Some of these feelings happen right away and some don’t surface until you have been caregiving for awhile. Whatever your situation, it is important to remember that you, too, are important. All of your emotions, good and bad, about caregiving are not only allowed, but valid and important.”

As another article suggests, caregivers need to face emotions directly, find healthy ways to release anger, share feelings with close friends, and take breaks to pursue enjoyment.

These recommendations can apply to short-term caregiving situations such as recovery from an operation but also to long-term situations involving HD, Alzheimer’s disease, and other afflictions.

Overlooked and undervalued

Until my mother went into a nursing home in the final months of her life, my father cared for my mother’s daily needs with the assistance of a professional caregiver who visited their home a few hours each week. He helped her in the bathroom, fed her, and pushed her wheelchair.

She was the love of his life. He was stubborn about accepting more help at home and getting her physical therapy, but each day he climbed with her into the HD trenches.

Not once did I hear him complain. Maybe he should have!

In our celebritocracy, such dedication goes unrecognized. Each year family caregivers are estimated to provide the equivalent of nearly half a trillion dollars in unpaid care.

In America, care and caregiving are “overlooked and undervalued,” writes Zachary White, Ph.D., the author of the blog The Unprepared Caregiver.

Unlike highly valued, professional jobs, informal caregiving isn’t considered a career.

“Parents and relatives and friends won’t be able to brag about your experiences.” Dr. White writes. “There are no ‘schools’ of informal caregiving – no Harvard or Stanford to use as a guiding goal from which others can respect and admire. Others may speak highly of your role and your efforts, but it begins and ends there.”

While taking care of loved ones, members of the HD and other neurological disease communities have long advocated for better caregiver assistance and nursing home care – including disease-specific instruction for health aides. These will remain daunting challenges for the foreseeable future.

Preemptive caregiving

I believe that Regina’s devotion to me and our family is a big reason why I’ve passed my mother’s age of HD onset. She helps provide for the family by working as a full-time elementary school teacher; she sees to it that Bianca and I eat healthily; and she supports my HD advocacy.

She has done a lot of preemptive caregiving.

Caring for Regina during her recovery and remembering my mother’s struggles with Huntington’s have led me to reflect on my future caregiving needs.

As I race against the genetic clock and await the development of treatments for this incurable disorder and a health care system more responsive to those with brain diseases, I want to avoid becoming a burden on my family.

By maintaining good health in the present, I can perhaps reduce that future burden.

However, I know that, for each HD family, this is uncharted territory. We can forge ahead by caring for our our family members – and for the larger community.

Memories of genetic testing: from my mom to Angelina Jolie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t rush, sit with your emotions

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

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

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

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

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

Such people sometimes want to test immediately, she said.

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

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

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

Limitations

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

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

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

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

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

New meaning

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

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

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

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

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

Medical ethics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walking in another’s genetic shoes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoping for prevention

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

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

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

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

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