Can Genetic Testing Help Shed Light on the Autism Epidemic?
Autism cases are still on the rise, and scientists don't know why. In April, the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reported that rates of autism had increased once again, now at an estimated 1 in 59 children up from 1 in 68 just two years ago. Rates have been climbing steadily since 2007 when the CDC initially estimated that 1 in 150 children were on the autism spectrum.
Some clinicians are concerned that the creeping expansion of autism is causing the diagnosis to lose its meaning.
The standard explanation for this increase has been the expansion of the definition of autism to include milder forms like Asperger's, as well as a heightened awareness of the condition that has improved screening efforts. For example, the most recent jump is attributed to children in minority communities being diagnosed who might have previously gone under the radar. In addition, more federally funded resources are available to children with autism than other types of developmental disorders, which may prompt families or physicians to push harder for a diagnosis.
Some clinicians are concerned that the creeping expansion of autism is causing the diagnosis to lose its meaning. William Graf, a pediatric neurologist at Connecticut Children's Medical Center, says that when a nurse tells him that a new patient has a history of autism, the term is no longer a useful description. "Even though I know this topic extremely well, I cannot picture the child anymore," he says. "Use the words mild, moderate, or severe. Just give me a couple more clues, because when you say autism today, I have no idea what people are talking about anymore."
Genetic testing has emerged as one potential way to remedy the overly broad label by narrowing down a heterogeneous diagnosis to a specific genetic disorder. According to Suma Shankar, a medical geneticist at the University of California, Davis, up to 60 percent of autism cases could be attributed to underlying genetic causes. Common examples include Fragile X Syndrome or Rett Syndrome—neurodevelopmental disorders that are caused by mutations in individual genes and are behaviorally classified as autism.
With more than 500 different mutations associated with autism, very few additional diagnoses provide meaningful information.
Having a genetic diagnosis in addition to an autism diagnosis can help families in several ways, says Shankar. Knowing the genetic origin can alert families to other potential health problems that are linked to the mutation, such as heart defects or problems with the immune system. It may also help clinicians provide more targeted behavioral therapies and could one day lead to the development of drug treatments for underlying neurochemical abnormalities. "It will pave the way to begin to tease out treatments," Shankar says.
When a doctor diagnoses a child as having a specific genetic condition, the label of autism is still kept because it is more well-known and gives the child access to more state-funded resources. Children can thus be diagnosed with multiple conditions: autism spectrum disorder and their specific gene mutation. However, with more than 500 different mutations associated with autism, very few additional diagnoses provide meaningful information. What's more, the presence or absence of a mutation doesn't necessarily indicate whether the child is on the mild or severe end of the autism spectrum.
Because of this, Graf doubts that genetic classifications are really that useful. He tells the story of a boy with epilepsy and severe intellectual disabilities who was diagnosed with autism as a young child. Years later, Graf ordered genetic testing for the boy and discovered that he had a mutation in the gene SYNGAP1. However, this knowledge didn't change the boy's autism status. "That diagnosis [SYNGAP1] turns out to be very specific for him, but it will never be a household name. Biologically it's good to know, and now it's all over his chart. But on a societal level he still needs this catch-all label [of autism]," Graf says.
"It gives some information, but to what degree does that change treatment or prognosis?"
Jennifer Singh, a sociologist at Georgia Tech who wrote the book Multiple Autisms: Spectrums of Advocacy and Genomic Science, agrees. "I don't know that the knowledge gained from just having a gene that's linked to autism," is that beneficial, she says. "It gives some information, but to what degree does that change treatment or prognosis? Because at the end of the day you have to address the issues that are at hand, whatever they might be."
As more children are diagnosed with autism, knowledge of the underlying genetic mutation causing the condition could help families better understand the diagnosis and anticipate their child's developmental trajectory. However, for the vast majority, an additional label provides little clarity or consolation.
Instead of spending money on genetic screens, Singh thinks the resources would be better used on additional services for people who don't have access to behavioral, speech, or occupational therapy. "Things that are really going to matter for this child in their future," she says.
Kelly Mantoan was nursing her newborn son, Teddy, in the NICU in a Philadelphia hospital when her doctor came in and silently laid a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, Kelly knew what the gesture meant and started to sob: Teddy, like his one-year-old brother, Fulton, had just tested positive for a neuromuscular condition called spinal muscular atrophy (SMA).
The boys were 8 and 10 when Kelly heard about an experimental new treatment, still being tested in clinical trials, called Spinraza.
"We knew that [SMA] was a genetic disorder, and we knew that we had a 1 in 4 chance of Teddy having SMA," Mantoan recalls. But the idea of having two children with the same severe disability seemed too unfair for Kelly and her husband, Tony, to imagine. "We had lots of well-meaning friends tell us, well, God won't do this to you twice," she says. Except that He, or a cruel trick of nature, had.
In part, the boys' diagnoses were so devastating because there was little that could be done at the time, back in 2009 and 2010, when the boys were diagnosed. Affecting an estimated 1 in 11,000 babies, SMA is a degenerative disease in which the body is deficient in survival motor neuron (SMN) protein, thanks to a genetic mutation or absence of the body's SNM1 gene. So muscles that control voluntary movement – such as walking, breathing, and swallowing – weaken and eventually cease to function altogether.
Babies diagnosed with SMA Type 1 rarely live past toddlerhood, while people diagnosed with SMA Types 2, 3, and 4 can live into adulthood, usually with assistance like ventilators and feeding tubes. Shortly after birth, both Teddy Mantoan and his brother, Fulton, were diagnosed with SMA Type 2.
The boys were 8 and 10 when Kelly heard about an experimental new treatment, still being tested in clinical trials, called Spinraza. Up until then, physical therapy was the only sanctioned treatment for SMA, and Kelly enrolled both her boys in weekly sessions to preserve some of their muscle strength as the disease marched forward. But Spinraza – a grueling regimen of lumbar punctures and injections designed to stimulate a backup survival motor neuron gene to produce more SMN protein – offered new hope.
In clinical trials, after just a few doses of Spinraza, babies with SMA Type 1 began meeting normal developmental milestones – holding up their heads, rolling over, and sitting up. In other trials, Spinraza treatment delayed the need for permanent ventilation, while patients on the placebo arm continued to lose function, and several died. Spinraza was such a success, and so well tolerated among patients, that clinical trials ended early and the drug was fast-tracked for FDA approval in 2016. In January 2017, when Kelly got the call that Fulton and Teddy had been approved by the hospital to start Spinraza infusions, Kelly dropped to her knees in the middle of the kitchen and screamed.
Spinraza, manufactured by Biogen, has been hailed as revolutionary, but it's also not without drawbacks: Priced per injection, just one dose of Spinraza costs $125,000, making it one of the most expensive drugs on the global market. What's worse, treatment requires a "loading dose" of four injections over a four-week period, and then periodic injections every four months, indefinitely. For the first year of treatment, Spinraza treatment costs $750,000 – and then $375,000 for every year thereafter.
Last week, a competitive treatment for SMA Type 1 manufactured by Novartis burst onto the market. The new treatment, called Zolgensma, is a one-time gene therapy intended to be given to infants and is currently priced at $2.125 million, or $425,000 annually for five years, making it the most expensive drug in the world. Like Spinraza, Zolgensma is currently raising challenging questions about how insurers and government payers like Medicaid will be able to afford these treatments without bankrupting an already-strained health care system.
To Biogen's credit, the company provides financial aid for Spinraza patients with private insurance who pay co-pays for treatment, as well as for those who have been denied by Medicaid and Medicare. But getting insurance companies to agree to pay for Spinraza can often be an ordeal in itself. Although Fulton and Teddy Mantoan were approved for treatment over two years ago, a lengthy insurance battle delayed treatment for another eight months – time that, for some SMA patients, can mean a significant loss of muscular function.
Kelly didn't notice anything in either boy – positive or negative – for the first few months of Spinraza injections. But one day in November 2017, as Teddy was lowered off his school bus in his wheelchair, he turned to say goodbye to his friends and "dab," – a dance move where one's arms are extended briefly across the chest and in the air. Normally, Teddy would dab by throwing his arms up in the air with momentum, striking a pose quickly before they fell down limp at his sides. But that day, Teddy held his arms rigid in the air. His classmates, along with Kelly, were stunned. "Teddy, look at your arms!" Kelly remembers shrieking. "You're holding them up – you're dabbing!"
Teddy and Fulton Mantoan, who both suffer from spinal muscular atrophy, have seen life-changing results from Spinraza.
(Courtesy of Kelly Mantoan)
Not long after Teddy's dab, the Mantoans started seeing changes in Fulton as well. "With Fulton, we realized suddenly that he was no longer choking on his food during meals," Kelly said. "Almost every meal we'd have to stop and have him take a sip of water and make him slow down and take small bites so he wouldn't choke. But then we realized we hadn't had to do that in a long time. The nurses at school were like, 'it's not an issue anymore.'"
For the Mantoans, this was an enormous relief: Less choking meant less chance of aspiration pneumonia, a leading cause of death for people with SMA Types 1 and 2.
While Spinraza has been life-changing for the Mantoans, it remains painfully out of reach for many others. Thanks to Spinraza's enormous price tag, the threshold for who gets to use it is incredibly high: Adult and pediatric patients, particularly those with state-sponsored insurance, have reported multiple insurance denials, lengthy appeals processes, and endless bureaucracy from insurance and hospitals alike that stand in the way of treatment.
Kate Saldana, a 21-year-old woman with Type 2 SMA, is one of the many adult patients who have been lobbying for the drug. Saldana, who uses a ventilator 20 hours each day, says that Medicaid denied her Spinraza treatments because they mistakenly believed that she used a ventilator full-time. Saldana is currently in the process of appealing their decision, but knows she is fighting an uphill battle.
Kate Saldana, who suffers from Type 2 SMA, has been fighting unsuccessfully for Medicaid to cover Spinraza.
(Courtesy of Saldana)
"Originally, the treatments were studied and created for infants and children," Saldana said in an e-mail. "There is a plethora of data to support the effectiveness of Spinraza in those groups, but in adults it has not been studied as much. That makes it more difficult for insurance to approve it, because they are not sure if it will be as beneficial."
Saldana has been pursuing treatment unsuccessfully since last August – but others, like Kimberly Hill, a 32-year-old with SMA Type 2, have been waiting even longer. Hill, who lives in Oklahoma, has been fighting for treatment since Spinraza went on the U.S. market in December 2016. Because her mobility is limited to the use of her left thumb, Hill is eager to try anything that will enable her to keep working and finish a Master's degree in Fire and Emergency Management.
"Obviously, my family and I were elated with the approval of Spinraza," Hill said in an e-mail. "We thought I would finally have the chance to get a little stronger and healthier." But with Medicare and Medicaid, coverage and eligibility varies wildly by state. Earlier this year, Medicaid approved Spinraza for adult patients only if a clawback clause was attached to the approval, meaning that under certain conditions the Medicaid funds would need to be paid back. Because of the clawback clause, hospitals have been reluctant to take on Spinraza treatments, effectively barring adult Medicaid patients from accessing the drug altogether.
Hill's hospital is currently in negotiations with Medicaid to move forward with Spinraza treatment, but in the meantime, Hill is in limbo. "We keep being told there is nothing we can do, and we are devastated," Hill said.
"I felt extremely sad and honestly a bit forgotten, like adults [with SMA] don't matter."
Between Spinraza and its new competitor, Zolgensma, some are speculating that insurers will start to favor Zolgensma coverage instead, since the treatment is shorter and ultimately cheaper than Spinraza in the long term. But for some adults with SMA who can't access Spinraza and who don't qualify for Zolgensma treatment, the issue of what insurers will cover is moot.
"I was so excited when I heard that Zolgensma was approved by the FDA," said Annie Wilson, an adult SMA patient from Alameda, Calif. who has been fighting for Spinraza since 2017. "When I became aware that it was only being offered to children, I felt extremely sad and honestly a bit forgotten, like adults [with SMA] don't matter."
According to information from a Biogen representative, more than 7500 people worldwide have been treated with Spinraza to date, one third of whom are adults.
While Spinraza has been revolutionary for thousands of patients, it's unclear how many more lives state agencies and insurance companies will allow it to save.
For years, a continuous glucose monitor would beep at night if Dana Lewis' blood sugar measured too high or too low. At age 14, she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, an autoimmune disease that destroys insulin-producing cells in the pancreas.
The FDA just issued its first warning to the DIY diabetic community, after one patient suffered an accidental insulin overdose.
But being a sound sleeper, the Seattle-based independent researcher, now 30, feared not waking up. That concerned her most when she would run, after which her glucose dropped overnight. Now, she rarely needs a rousing reminder to alert her to out-of-range blood glucose levels.
That's because Lewis and her husband, Scott Leibrand, a network engineer, developed an artificial pancreas system—an algorithm that calculates adjustments to insulin delivery based on data from the continuous glucose monitor and her insulin pump. When the monitor gives a reading, she no longer needs to press a button. The algorithm tells the pump how much insulin to release while she's sleeping.
"Most of the time, it's preventing the frequent occurrences of high or low blood sugars automatically," Lewis explains.
Like other do-it-yourself device innovations, home-designed artificial pancreas systems are not approved by the Food and Drug Administration, so individual users assume any associated risks. Experts recommend that patients consult their doctor before adopting a new self-monitoring approach and to keep the clinician apprised of their progress.
DIY closed-loop systems can be uniquely challenging, according to the FDA. Patients may not fully comprehend how the devices are intended to work or they may fail to recognize the limitations. The systems have not been evaluated under quality control measures and pose risks of inappropriate dosing from the automated algorithm or potential incompatibility with a patient's other medications, says Stephanie Caccomo, an FDA spokeswoman.
Earlier this month, in fact, the FDA issued its first warning to the DIY diabetic community, which includes thousands of users, after one patient suffered an accidental insulin overdose.
Patients who built their own systems from scratch may be more well-versed in the operations, while those who are implementing unapproved designs created by others are less likely to be familiar with their intricacies, she says.
"Malfunctions or misuse of automated-insulin delivery systems can lead to acute complications of hypo- and hyperglycemia that may result in serious injury or death," Caccomo cautions. "FDA provides independent review of complex systems to assess the safety of these nontransparent devices, so that users do not have to be software/hardware designers to get the medical devices they need."
Only one hybrid closed-loop technology—the MiniMed 670G System from Minneapolis-based Medtronic—has been FDA-approved for type 1 use since September 2016. The term "hybrid" indicates that the system is not a fully automatic closed loop; it still requires minimal input from patients, including the need to enter mealtime carbohydrates, manage insulin dosage recommendations, and periodically calibrate the sensor.
Meanwhile, some tech-savvy people with type 1 diabetes have opted to design their own systems. About one-third of the DIY diabetes loopers are children whose parents have built them a closed system, according to Lewis' website.
Lewis began developing her system in 2014, well before Medtronic's device hit the market. "The choice to wait is not a luxury," she says, noting that "diabetes is inherently dangerous," whether an individual relies on a device to inject insulin or administers it with a syringe.
Hybrid closed-loop insulin delivery improves glucose control while decreasing the risk of low blood sugar in patients of various ages with less than optimally controlled type 1 diabetes, according to a study published in The Lancet last October. The multi-center randomized trial, conducted in the United Kingdom and the United States, spanned 12 weeks and included adults, adolescents, and children aged 6 years and older.
"We have compelling data attesting to the benefits of closed-loop systems," says Daniel Finan, research director at JDRF (formerly the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation) in New York, a global organization funding the study.
Medtronic's system costs between $6,000 and $9,000. However, end-user pricing varies based on an individual's health plan. It is covered by most insurers, according to the device manufacturer.
To give users more choice, in 2017 JDRF launched the Open Protocol Automated Insulin Delivery Systems initiative to collaborate with the FDA and experts in the do-it-yourself arena. The organization hopes to "forge a new regulatory paradigm," Finan says.
As diabetes management becomes more user-controlled, there is a need for better coordination. "We've had insulin pumps for a very long time, but having sensors that can detect blood sugars in real time is still a very new phenomenon," says Leslie Lam, interim chief in the division of pediatric endocrinology and diabetes at The Children's Hospital at Montefiore in the Bronx, N.Y.
"There's a lag in the integration of this technology," he adds. Innovators are indeed working to bring new products to market, "but on the consumer side, people want that to be here now instead of a year or two later."
The devices aren't foolproof, and mishaps can occur even with very accurate systems. For this reason, there is some reluctance to advocate for universal use in children with type 1 diabetes. Supervision by a parent, school nurse, and sometimes a coach would be a prudent precaution, Lam says.
People engage in "this work because they are either curious about it themselves or not getting the care they need from the health care system, or both."
Remaining aware of blood sugar levels and having a backup plan are essential. "People still need to know how to give injections the old-school way," he says.
To ensure readings are correct on Medtronic's device, users should check their blood sugar with traditional finger pricking at least five or six times per day—before every meal and whenever directed by the system, notes Elena Toschi, an endocrinologist and director of the Young Adult Clinic at Joslin Diabetes Center, an affiliate of Harvard Medical School.
"There can be pump failure and cross-talking failure," she cautions, urging patients not to stop being vigilant because they are using an automated device. "This is still something that can happen; it doesn't eliminate that."
While do-it-yourself devices help promote autonomy and offer convenience, the lack of clinical trial data makes it difficult for clinicians and patients to assess risks versus benefits, says Lisa Eckenwiler, an associate professor in the departments of philosophy and health administration and policy at George Mason University in Fairfax, Va.
"What are the responsibilities of physicians in that context to advise patients?" she questions. Some clinicians foresee the possibility that "down the road, if things go awry" with disease management, that could place them "in a moral quandary."
Whether it's controlling diabetes, obesity, heart disease or asthma, emerging technologies are having a major influence on individuals' abilities to stay on top of their health, says Camille Nebeker, an assistant professor in the School of Medicine at the University of California, San Diego, and founder and director of its Research Center for Optimal Data Ethics.
People engage in "this work because they are either curious about it themselves or not getting the care they need from the health care system, or both," she says. In "citizen science communities," they may partner in participant-led research while gaining access to scientific and technical expertise. Others "may go it alone in solo self-tracking studies or developing do-it-yourself technologies," which raises concerns about whether they are carefully considering potential risks and weighing them against possible benefits.
Dana Lewis admits that "using do-it-yourself systems might not be for everyone. But the advances made in the do-it-yourself community show what's possible for future commercial developments, and give a lot of hope for improved quality of life for those of us living with type 1 diabetes."