My arduous, lucky, and enlightening journey since my mother’s death from Huntington’s disease 15 years ago

 

February 13, 2021, will mark fifteen years since my mother Carol Serbin died in 2006 after a two-decade fight against Huntington’s disease. She was 68.

 

Recalling her struggles and taking stock of my own predicament as an HD gene carrier have stirred me to reflect on my arduous, lucky, and enlightening journey since her death. Greater maturity and experience have also afforded me a deeper perspective on the HD cause as a whole.

 

My mother was diagnosed with HD in 1995, just two years after the discovery of the huntingtin gene. That breakthrough permitted the development of a genetic test confirming passage of the disease from one generation to the next. However, in retrospect, her symptoms probably had begun in the late 1980s, when she was in her late 40s.

 

The arduous years

 

Given Carol’s inexorable physical, cognitive, and emotional decline and the lack of treatments, in July 2005 my “HD warrior” caregiver father Paul Serbin sadly concluded that she needed 24/7 care in a nursing home.

 

Her move to the nursing facility greatly eased the caregiving burden on my father, although he faithfully visited her daily, still spoon-feeding her as he had done at home.

 

It also freed him to travel from their home state of Ohio to spend Thanksgiving of 2005 with my wife Regina, our five-year-old daughter Bianca, and me at our place in San Diego.

 

“I didn’t know how much I loved your mother until these past few years, taking care of her and seeing how much she has lost,” my usually stoic father confided in me.

 

Paul Serbin pushing Carol Serbin in wheelchair (photo by Gene Veritas, aka Kenneth P. Serbin)

 

From my standpoint, my mother was descending into an HD hell. Psychologically, this became the roughest period of my life. Not only was she was dying. I, too, had tested positive for the HD gene in 1999, so watching her decline was like “looking into the genetic mirror” that reflected my own future.

 

After my mother steadily lost the ability to swallow, in January 2006 I helped my father make the wrenching decision not to approve a feeding tube, which would at best have prolonged her physical life but left her bedridden, unable to communicate.

 

On the weekend of January 28-29, 2006, with my mother in hospice care at the nursing home, I flew to Ohio to visit her for what I knew could be the last time. With almost indescribable emotion, I said good-bye to my mother and, once again, gazed into the genetic mirror. This time it revealed a practically lifeless individual, barely able to move and unable to speak (click here to read more).

 

After that visit, and then learning that she had died in her sleep the morning of Monday, February 13, 2006, I felt utterly distraught about my gene-positive status.

 

In the months after her passing, I felt so terrified about getting HD that I began to act out some of the disease’s physical symptoms in front of my wife and daughter. I could not write anything in this blog for eight months.

 

My father, suffering his own severe cognitive loss likely accelerated by the loss of his wife, died on September 25, 2009, with a broken heart.

 

Tons of luck, and some positive strategies

 

I have now been without parents so long that memories of them feel like a distant past.

 

At 61, still without any apparent symptoms of HD, I feel extremely lucky. Each moment of good health is a blessing.

 

I have practiced personal and social enrichment, which scientists have recommended.

 

I have the benefit of a stable, good-paying job. Also, as the centrality of my parents faded, my roles as husband and father became paramount. Bianca became the center of our lives. Regina’s and Bianca’s love and support have proved crucial.

 

Also, because Bianca tested negative for HD in the womb, we have averted enormous health, financial, and psychological burdens (click here to read more).

 

The Serbin Family Team of the 2014 HDSA-San Diego Team Hope Walk: from left to right, Dory Bertics, Bianca Serbin, Jane Rappoport, Gary Boggs, Yi Sun, Kenneth Serbin, Regina Serbin, and Allan Rappoport (photo by Bob Walker)

 

I also exercise regularly, meditate daily, take medications to control depression and anxiety, and have a solid, long-term relationship with a psychotherapist.

 

I cannot be sure whether any of these things have staved off HD, but they generally bolster health.

 

Significantly, scientists have discovered very powerful explanations for why I am might have stayed asymptomatic so long: genetic factors, including modifier genes, that delay disease onset.

 

Gaining enlightenment about HD

 

Becoming enlightened about HD research and building bonds with scientists have reinforced both my advocacy and personal enrichment.

 

As a college professor, HD advocate, and explainer of the science ­– both in this blog and in interviews with researchers – I have had a privileged window on the quest for treatments. I have thoroughly enjoyed this work.

 

Moreover, I have gained great satisfaction in encouraging HD families to participate in research studies, platforms like Enroll-HD, and clinical trials.

 

Witnessing the progress towards treatments has also boosted my hope to participate someday in an HD clinical trial and, ultimately, enjoy the benefits of the first wave of effective treatments.

 

Overall, I believe that becoming enlightened about HD has helped me become a better person.

 

Pride

 

My devout Catholic parents – when I was a child, my father especially had hoped that I would become a priest – would have been especially proud of my family’s participation in #HDdennomore, Pope Francis’ special audience with the Huntington’s community in Rome in May 2017.

 

The pope declared HD to be “hidden no more” from the world.

 

I presented Pope Francis with a framed photo of my parents, well-dressed and smiling in a formal pose, taken after my mother had already been diagnosed with HD.

 

“My mother died of Huntington’s,” I told the Pope in his native tongue of Spanish. “My father cared for her for 20 years.”

 

In September 2017, I gave a presentation on #HDdennomore at my workplace, the University of San Diego. In February 2020, just before the COVID-19 crisis hit, I organized a screening of the poignant documentary on the papal audience, Dancing at the Vatican. It was well-attended by members of the local HD community.

 

Pope Francis displayed great love and mercy for our community.

 

Photo of Paul and Carol Serbin presented to Pope Francis by Kenneth Serbin, May 18, 2017. Photo taken shortly after Carol's diagnosis for Huntington's disease in 1995 (family photo).

 

Tributes, and imagining a world without HD

 

In many ways, since its inception sixteen years ago in January 2005, this blog has paid tribute to my parents. I have also honored the lives of other HD-affected people who valiantly fought against the disease such as Steve Topper and Harriet Hartl.

 

In these years since my mother’s departure, I have often wondered what our lives would have been like without the scourge of HD. This April 30, my mother would have turned 84 – within a plausible lifespan nowadays.

 

How wonderful it would have been had my mother – who could not interact with Bianca as a baby and toddler – been able to see her granddaughter reach college and to see Regina and me next year mark 30 years of marriage.

 

I can forge the greatest of tributes to my parents by continuing to nurture my health and hopefully secure a longer life so that I can grow old with Regina and see Bianca go out into the world.

 

When we learned of my mother’s diagnosis in 1995, there was no real hope of an HD treatment. However, since her death, research and the advent of clinical trials have brought unprecedented hope. As we’ve seen in response to the coronavirus pandemic, science can make great strides.

 

In unison with others, I can honor my parents by renewing the fight for Huntington's treatments so that thousands of families around the world can be freed from witnessing loved ones die early deaths.

What’s in a name? How Huntington’s disease gene carriers are seen by themselves and by others

In 1999 I received the results of a genetic test that showed I had 40 CAG repeats on the huntingtin gene inherited from my mother, who died of Huntington’s disease in 2006 after a two-decade struggle with the disorder.

Everybody has this gene, which first appeared 800 million years ago in a species of amoebae. Huntingtin helps our cells function properly.

The gene’s CAG repeats refer to the sequence of three nucleotide bases – cytosine, adenine, and guanine, all building blocks of DNA – on the DNA molecule. Most people have 27 or fewer repeats. The gene I inherited from my father had fewer than 20.

My mother’s high CAG count caused her to start experiencing HD symptoms – typically manifested as emotional distress, cognitive loss, and involuntary movements – in her late forties.

The term “CAG repeats” and my mother’s count of 40 were two of the very first facts I learned about HD after receiving news of her diagnosis in late 1995.

The geneticist used the same terminology when he revealed my test results.

However, as he told me and many other recipients of HD test results, “a positive test result is not a diagnosis.” While everybody with 40 or more repeats will develop HD in his or her lifetime, scientists cannot yet predict the exact moment and type of disease onset.

According to John Warner, Ph.D., the director of biostatistics for CHDI Management, Inc., which carries out the day-to-day mission of the non-profit, HD drug-discovery biotech CHDI Foundation, Inc., 95 percent of those individuals with 40 CAG repeats will experience disease onset between the ages of 50 and 74. (A future article will explore the statistical meaning of the CAG count in greater detail.)

With an ominous test result at age 39 but no symptoms, I needed to construct a definition of my genetic predicament for both myself and for others.

As I said recently in an interview, unlike treatments for certain kinds of cancer, I cannot irradiate my defective huntingtin gene to destroy it. It’s part of me, literally residing in every cell.

Because of its genetic nature, HD also requires a far more nuanced kind of diagnosis. Subtle symptoms can exist for years before the more noticeable symptoms commence.

'Gene-positive'

For many years, I referred to myself as “gene-positive for Huntington’s disease,” a term I heard often in HD family and scientific circles. I also used phrases such as “tested positive for HD.”

“Gene-positive” echoed the term “HIV-positive” used by the AIDS community. It meant not only that I had tested positive for a condition, but that I inevitably faced its dire consequences.

Thus, “gene-positive” resonated with the deep stigma, discrimination, and alienation suffered by members of both the AIDS and HD communities.

“Gene-positive” further implied an activist stance. As with the early years of the fight against AIDS, we in the HD community needed to tell the world we needed treatments and the resources to find them.

I experienced all of these feelings in the late 1990s and early 2000s, as I immersed myself in advocacy work for the Huntington’s Disease Society of America.

They remain with me today as we still await the discovery of an effective treatment.

Changing perceptions

As my knowledge about HD increased, and as I came into ever closer contact with HD researchers in labs and at events such as the annual CHDI-sponsored HD Therapeutics Conference, both my perceptions of HD and the terms I used to describe my situation changed.

As I learned to my first visit to CHDI in 2009, many scientists see gene-positive individuals as genetically and, at least at the cellular level, even functionally compromised from birth.

I started to hear scientists used the word “premanifest” to describe asymptomatic, gene-positive individuals.

Soon I would be introduced to “prodrome” and “prodromal”. A precursor or forerunner to the disease, prodrome refers to the period before onset.

However, I could never imagine using such a technical term to describe myself to others.

Scientists and physicians also used “asymptomatic” and especially “presymptomatic” to describe people like me. I have frequently used the former to indicate to people that I face the danger of HD but am fine for now.

Other phrases I have used or heard include: HD gene carrier; HD gene mutation carrier; asymptomatic HD gene carrier; disease-gene carrier; tested positive for the genetic defect that causes Huntington’s disease; and carry the gene for Huntington’s disease.

Living with the ‘phantom gene’

At the World Congress on Huntington’s Disease in Rio de Janeiro last September, HD activist, historian, and author Alice Wexler, Ph.D., noted that much recent scientific discussion has focused on defining when HD actually begins.

During a panel on coping with HD, Dr. Wexler asked how global HD advocate Charles Sabine and I – both gene-positive but asymptomatic – viewed ourselves as individuals living with the “phantom gene” and in what circumstances would consider ourselves as having HD.

“It changes for me depending on where I am,” I replied. “If I’m at a conference like this: ‘Oh, my God! I have HD.’ Because I see all these studies and brain scans and searches for biomarkers … and references to me as prodromal…. There’s a tendency of the scientific community to see gene carriers as diseased from Day One.”

In settings such as my doctor’s office, I felt different, I said. “My doctor’s telling me: this time you got a clean bill of health.”

Charles, agreeing with my outlook and saying that he “treasured” his current good health, answered the question in a “wider, more metaphysical sense.”

“We are not just someone who’s had a bit of bad luck,” Charles said about having inherited the HD mutation. “We are a part of history. I have absolutely not a single shred of doubt in my mind that, whether it’s 20, 50, or a 100 years [off], that this disease will be managed just like HIV-AIDS can be now.”

You can watch the entire exchange in the video below.

Living with a 'Phantom Gene': Two Huntington's Disease Gene Carriers Discuss Their Perceptions from Gene Veritas on Vimeo.

A new shorthand

The latest conception emerged at the CHDI-sponsored HD therapeutics conference in Palm Springs, CA, last month, where Andrea Varrone, M.D., Ph.D., of the Karolinska Institutet (Sweden) gave a presentation whose title included the phrase “Huntington’s disease gene expansion carriers.”

That phrase very accurately describes someone like me, because it specifically identifies the cause of the disease: an expansion of the huntingtin gene. However, the term does not by itself identify whether a person is symptomatic or asymptomatic.

Nevertheless, it’s good shorthand for the concept of expanded CAG repeats.

However, both the phrase and its acronym, HDGEC, are a mouthful! They might not resonate with the community, and even less so with the general public, which is more familiar with the idea of a “mutated gene” than with the term “expanded gene.”

‘You don’t look like an HD person’

The abundance of terms to describe asymptomatic HD gene carriers reminds me that those of us in this predicament are undergoing “the new and harrowing human experience of living in the gray zone between a genetic test result and the onset of a disease foretold.”

Scientists have demonstrated that changes in the brain occur ten and even 20 years before onset – meaning that my brain may already be seriously compromised, even though I function just fine.

Inexorably, perniciously, but silently, HD attacks the brain.

However, it’s not discernible from the outside.

“You don’t look like a person who has Huntington’s disease,” a health professional told me recently as I contemplated him writhing with pain and discomfort from a knee operation that forced him to wear a brace and use crutches.

There is no particular way for a premanifest person to look! Moreover, no “crutch” yet exists to help the presymptomatic HD brain recover from the initial assault on the cells.

As an HD gene carrier and advocate for this orphan neurological disorder, I continually face the challenge of explaining the seriousness of the disease and its many social implications.

Along with other neurological disease communities, we in the HD community are still searching for the right formula to project the urgency and significance of our predicament.

A temporary escape

Often those of us in the gray zone prefer not to deal with HD. Unlike others in the community, we don’t yet face the minute-by-minute struggle with symptoms.

At the local HD support group meeting this week, I was the only at-risk individual to appear. Even so, the facilitator and her replacement-in-training for the at-risk section (which normally includes both tested and untested asymptomatic individuals) held a session with me. I wanted to help bring the new person up to speed on the history of the support group and the needs of the at-risk section.

We noted that the support group’s caregiver section is usually the largest of the three subdivisions, followed by the section for those already affected.

The at-risk is usually the smallest – even though at-risk individuals outnumber affected individuals nationally by a ratio of at least five to one.

I sympathize completely with the occasional need to “escape” from HD, so I understand why other at-risk people didn’t attend the meeting. However, I am hyper-aware of the need for more individuals to participate in research studies and clinical trials to create effective treatments.

The transition to patient status

The facilitators and I also discussed the difficult choice individuals and facilitators must make in transitioning newly affected individuals out of the at-risk section and into the affected section.

I’ve witnessed this transition for a number of people. I can’t imagine how hard it is.

Once the symptoms begin, the terminological ambiguity ends. They are now “affected” or “symptomatic” individuals. They are “HD patients.”

I anxiously await the moment when an effective treatment would not only ameliorate these and other patients’ symptoms, but also prevent onset in asymptomatic gene carriers.

Big decisions while facing the threat of Huntington’s disease

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

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

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

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

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

Professional excitement

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second-guessing the past, but welcoming the future

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The real successes and challenges

I savored my public moment as a Latin America scholar.

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

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

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

Participating in a study

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

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

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

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

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

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

Channeling the positive energy

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

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

I felt a new beginning for the Church.

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

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

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

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