A Drug Straight Out of Science Fiction Has Arrived
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
Steve, a 60-year-old resident of the DC area who works in manufacturing, was always physically fit. In college, he played lacrosse in Division I, the highest level of intercollegiate athletics in the United States. Later, he stayed active by swimming, biking, and running--up until something strange happened around two years ago.
"It was hard for me to even get upstairs. I wasted away."
Steve, who requested that his last name be withheld to protect his privacy, started to notice weakness first in his toes, then his knees. On a trip to the zoo, he had trouble keeping up. Then some months later, the same thing happened on a family hike. What was supposed to be a four-mile trek up to see a waterfall ended for him at the quarter-mile mark. He turned around and struggled back to the start just as everyone else was returning from the excursion.
Alarmed, he sought out one doctor after the next, but none could diagnose him. The disabling weakness continued to creep up his legs, and by the time he got in to see a top neurologist at Johns Hopkins University last January, he was desperate for help.
"It was hard for me to even get upstairs," he recalls. "I wasted away and had lost about forty-five pounds."
The neurologist, Dr. Michael Polydefkis, finally made the correct diagnosis based on Steve's rapid progression of symptoms, a skin and nerve biopsy, and a genetic test. It turned out that Steve had a rare inherited disease called hereditary transthyretin amyloidosis. Transthyretin is a common blood protein whose normal function is to transport vitamins and hormones in the body. When patients possess certain genetic mutations in the transthyretin gene, the resulting protein can misfold, clump and produce amyloid, an aggregate of proteins, which then interferes with normal function. Many organs are affected in this disease, but most affected are the nervous system, the GI tract, and the heart.
Dr. Michael Polydefkis, Steve's neurologist at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center in Baltimore, MD.
(Courtesy of Dr. Polydefkis)
For the 50,000 patients like Steve around the world, the only treatment historically has been a liver transplant—a major, risky operation. The liver makes most of the transthyretin in a person's body. So if a person who carries a genetic mutation for a disease-causing form of transthyretin has their liver transplanted, the new liver will stop making the mutant protein. A few drugs can slow, but do not stop the disease.
Since it is a genetic condition, a regular "drug" can't tackle the problem.
"For almost all of medicine from the 18th century to today, drugs have been small molecules, typically natural, some invented by humans, that bind to proteins and block their functions," explains Dr. Phillip Zamore, chair of the department of Biomedical Sciences at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. "But with most proteins (including this one), you can't imagine how that would ever happen. Because even if it stuck, there's no reason to think it would change anything. So people threw up their hands and said, 'Unless we can find a protein that is "druggable" in disease X, we can't treat it.'"
To draw a car analogy, treating a disease like Steve's with a small molecule would be like trying to shut down the entire car industry when all you can do is cut the power cord to one machine in one local factory. With few options, patients like Steve have been at a loss, facing continual deterioration and disability.
"It's more obvious how to be specific because we use the genetic code itself to design the drug."
A Radical New Approach
Luckily, Dr. Polydefkis knew of an experimental drug made by a biotech company that Dr. Zamore co-founded called Alnylam Pharmaceuticals. They were doing something completely different: silencing the chemical blueprint for protein, called RNA, rather than targeting the protein itself. In other words, shutting down all the bad factories across the whole car industry at once – without touching the good ones.
"It's more obvious how to be specific," says Dr. Zamore, "because we use the genetic code itself to design the drug."
For Steve's doctor, the new drug, called patisiran, is a game changer.
"It's the dawn of molecular medicine," says Dr. Polydefkis. "It's really a miraculous development. The ability to selectively knock down or reduce the amount of a specific protein is remarkable. I tell patients this is science fiction that is now becoming reality."
A (Very) Short History
The strategy of silencing RNA as a method of guiding drug development began in 1998. Basic research took six years before clinical testing in humans began in 2004. Just a few months ago, in November, the results of the first double-blind, placebo-controlled phase III trials were announced, testing patisiran in patients--and they surpassed expectations.
"The results were remarkably positive," says Dr. Polydefkis. "Every primary and secondary outcome measure target was met. It's the most positive trial I have ever been associated with and that I can remember in recent memory."
FDA approval is expected to come by summer, which will mark the first official sanction of a drug based on RNA inhibition (RNAi). Experts are confident that similar drugs will eventually follow for other diseases, like familial hypercholesterol, lipid disorders, and breathing disorders. Right now, these drugs must get into the liver to work, but otherwise the future treatment possibilities are wide open, according to Dr. Zamore.
"It doesn't have to be a genetic disease," he says. "In theory, it doesn't have to be just one gene, although I don't think anyone knows how many you could target at once. There is no precedent for targeting two."
Dr. Phillip Zamore, chair of the RNA Therapeutics Institute at the University of Massachusetts Medical School.
(Courtesy of Dr. Zamore)
Alnylam, the leading company in RNAi therapeutics, plans to strategically design other new drugs based on what they have learned from this first trial – "so with each successive experience, with designing and testing, you get better at making more drugs. In a way, that's never happened before...This is a lot more efficient of a way to make drugs in the future."
And unlike gene therapy, in which a patient's own genetic code is permanently altered, this approach does not cause permanent genetic changes. Patients can stop taking it like any other drug, and its effects will vanish.
How Is Steve?
Last February, Steve started on the drug. He was granted early access since it is not yet FDA-approved and is still considered experimental. Every 21 days, he has received an IV infusion that causes some minor side effects, like headaches and facial flushing.
"The good news is, since I started on the drug, I don't see any more deterioration other than my speech."
So far, it seems to be effective. He's gained back 20 pounds, and though his enunciation is still a bit slurred, he says that his neuropathy has stopped. He plans to continue the treatment for the rest of his life.
"The good news is, since I started on the drug, I don't see any more deterioration other than my speech," he says. "I think the drug is working, but would I have continued to deteriorate without the drug? I'm not really sure."
Dr. Polydefkis jumps in with a more confident response: "If you ask me, I would say 100 percent he would have kept progressing at a fairly rapid pace without the drug. When Steve says the neuropathy has stopped, that's music to my ears."
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
If you were one of the millions who masked up, washed your hands thoroughly and socially distanced, pat yourself on the back—you may have helped change the course of human history.
Scientists say that thanks to these safety precautions, which were introduced in early 2020 as a way to stop transmission of the novel COVID-19 virus, a strain of influenza has been completely eliminated. This marks the first time in human history that a virus has been wiped out through non-pharmaceutical interventions, such as vaccines.
The flu shot, explained
Influenza viruses type A and B are responsible for the majority of human illnesses and the flu season.
Centers for Disease Control
For more than a decade, flu shots have protected against two types of the influenza virus–type A and type B. While there are four different strains of influenza in existence (A, B, C, and D), only strains A, B, and C are capable of infecting humans, and only A and B cause pandemics. In other words, if you catch the flu during flu season, you’re most likely sick with flu type A or B.
Flu vaccines contain inactivated—or dead—influenza virus. These inactivated viruses can’t cause sickness in humans, but when administered as part of a vaccine, they teach a person’s immune system to recognize and kill those viruses when they’re encountered in the wild.
Each spring, a panel of experts gives a recommendation to the US Food and Drug Administration on which strains of each flu type to include in that year’s flu vaccine, depending on what surveillance data says is circulating and what they believe is likely to cause the most illness during the upcoming flu season. For the past decade, Americans have had access to vaccines that provide protection against two strains of influenza A and two lineages of influenza B, known as the Victoria lineage and the Yamagata lineage. But this year, the seasonal flu shot won’t include the Yamagata strain, because the Yamagata strain is no longer circulating among humans.
How Yamagata Disappeared
Flu surveillance data from the Global Initiative on Sharing All Influenza Data (GISAID) shows that the Yamagata lineage of flu type B has not been sequenced since April 2020.
Nature
Experts believe that the Yamagata lineage had already been in decline before the pandemic hit, likely because the strain was naturally less capable of infecting large numbers of people compared to the other strains. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, the resulting safety precautions such as social distancing, isolating, hand-washing, and masking were enough to drive the virus into extinction completely.
Because the strain hasn’t been circulating since 2020, the FDA elected to remove the Yamagata strain from the seasonal flu vaccine. This will mark the first time since 2012 that the annual flu shot will be trivalent (three-component) rather than quadrivalent (four-component).
Should I still get the flu shot?
The flu shot will protect against fewer strains this year—but that doesn’t mean we should skip it. Influenza places a substantial health burden on the United States every year, responsible for hundreds of thousands of hospitalizations and tens of thousands of deaths. The flu shot has been shown to prevent millions of illnesses each year (more than six million during the 2022-2023 season). And while it’s still possible to catch the flu after getting the flu shot, studies show that people are far less likely to be hospitalized or die when they’re vaccinated.
Another unexpected benefit of dropping the Yamagata strain from the seasonal vaccine? This will possibly make production of the flu vaccine faster, and enable manufacturers to make more vaccines, helping countries who have a flu vaccine shortage and potentially saving millions more lives.
After his grandmother’s dementia diagnosis, one man invented a snack to keep her healthy and hydrated.
On a visit to his grandmother’s nursing home in 2016, college student Lewis Hornby made a shocking discovery: Dehydration is a common (and dangerous) problem among seniors—especially those that are diagnosed with dementia.
Hornby’s grandmother, Pat, had always had difficulty keeping up her water intake as she got older, a common issue with seniors. As we age, our body composition changes, and we naturally hold less water than younger adults or children, so it’s easier to become dehydrated quickly if those fluids aren’t replenished. What’s more, our thirst signals diminish naturally as we age as well—meaning our body is not as good as it once was in letting us know that we need to rehydrate. This often creates a perfect storm that commonly leads to dehydration. In Pat’s case, her dehydration was so severe she nearly died.
When Lewis Hornby visited his grandmother at her nursing home afterward, he learned that dehydration especially affects people with dementia, as they often don’t feel thirst cues at all, or may not recognize how to use cups correctly. But while dementia patients often don’t remember to drink water, it seemed to Hornby that they had less problem remembering to eat, particularly candy.
Where people with dementia often forget to drink water, they're more likely to pick up a colorful snack, Hornby found. alzheimers.org.uk
Hornby wanted to create a solution for elderly people who struggled keeping their fluid intake up. He spent the next eighteen months researching and designing a solution and securing funding for his project. In 2019, Hornby won a sizable grant from the Alzheimer’s Society, a UK-based care and research charity for people with dementia and their caregivers. Together, through the charity’s Accelerator Program, they created a bite-sized, sugar-free, edible jelly drop that looked and tasted like candy. The candy, called Jelly Drops, contained 95% water and electrolytes—important minerals that are often lost during dehydration. The final product launched in 2020—and was an immediate success. The drops were able to provide extra hydration to the elderly, as well as help keep dementia patients safe, since dehydration commonly leads to confusion, hospitalization, and sometimes even death.
Not only did Jelly Drops quickly become a favorite snack among dementia patients in the UK, but they were able to provide an additional boost of hydration to hospital workers during the pandemic. In NHS coronavirus hospital wards, patients infected with the virus were regularly given Jelly Drops to keep their fluid levels normal—and staff members snacked on them as well, since long shifts and personal protective equipment (PPE) they were required to wear often left them feeling parched.
In April 2022, Jelly Drops launched in the United States. The company continues to donate 1% of its profits to help fund Alzheimer’s research.