Is Finding Out Your Baby’s Genetics A New Responsibility of Parenting?
Hours after a baby is born, its heel is pricked with a lancet. Drops of the infant's blood are collected on a porous card, which is then mailed to a state laboratory. The dried blood spots are screened for around thirty conditions, including phenylketonuria (PKU), the metabolic disorder that kick-started this kind of newborn screening over 60 years ago. In the U.S., parents are not asked for permission to screen their child. Newborn screening programs are public health programs, and the assumption is that no good parent would refuse a screening test that could identify a serious yet treatable condition in their baby.
Learning as much as you can about your child's health might seem like a natural obligation of parenting. But it's an assumption that I think needs to be much more closely examined.
Today, with the introduction of genome sequencing into clinical medicine, some are asking whether newborn screening goes far enough. As the cost of sequencing falls, should parents take a more expansive look at their children's health, learning not just whether they have a rare but treatable childhood condition, but also whether they are at risk for untreatable conditions or for diseases that, if they occur at all, will strike only in adulthood? Should genome sequencing be a part of every newborn's care?
It's an idea that appeals to Anne Wojcicki, the founder and CEO of the direct-to-consumer genetic testing company 23andMe, who in a 2016 interview with The Guardian newspaper predicted that having newborns tested would soon be considered standard practice—"as critical as testing your cholesterol"—and a new responsibility of parenting. Wojcicki isn't the only one excited to see everyone's genes examined at birth. Francis Collins, director of the National Institutes of Health and perhaps the most prominent advocate of genomics in the United States, has written that he is "almost certain … that whole-genome sequencing will become part of new-born screening in the next few years." Whether that would happen through state-mandated screening programs, or as part of routine pediatric care—or perhaps as a direct-to-consumer service that parents purchase at birth or receive as a baby-shower gift—is not clear.
Learning as much as you can about your child's health might seem like a natural obligation of parenting. But it's an assumption that I think needs to be much more closely examined, both because the results that genome sequencing can return are more complex and more uncertain than one might expect, and because parents are not actually responsible for their child's lifelong health and well-being.
What is a parent supposed to do about such a risk except worry?
Existing newborn screening tests look for the presence of rare conditions that, if identified early in life, before the child shows any symptoms, can be effectively treated. Sequencing could identify many of these same kinds of conditions (and it might be a good tool if it could be targeted to those conditions alone), but it would also identify gene variants that confer an increased risk rather than a certainty of disease. Occasionally that increased risk will be significant. About 12 percent of women in the general population will develop breast cancer during their lives, while those who have a harmful BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene variant have around a 70 percent chance of developing the disease. But for many—perhaps most—conditions, the increased risk associated with a particular gene variant will be very small. Researchers have identified over 600 genes that appear to be associated with schizophrenia, for example, but any one of those confers only a tiny increase in risk for the disorder. What is a parent supposed to do about such a risk except worry?
Sequencing results are uncertain in other important ways as well. While we now have the ability to map the genome—to create a read-out of the pairs of genetic letters that make up a person's DNA—we are still learning what most of it means for a person's health and well-being. Researchers even have a name for gene variants they think might be associated with a disease or disorder, but for which they don't have enough evidence to be sure. They are called "variants of unknown (or uncertain) significance (VUS), and they pop up in most people's sequencing results. In cancer genetics, where much research has been done, about 1 in 5 gene variants are reclassified over time. Most are downgraded, which means that a good number of VUS are eventually designated benign.
While one parent might reasonably decide to learn about their child's risk for a condition about which nothing can be done medically, a different, yet still thoroughly reasonable, parent might prefer to remain ignorant so that they can enjoy the time before their child is afflicted.
Then there's the puzzle of what to do about results that show increased risk or even certainty for a condition that we have no idea how to prevent. Some genomics advocates argue that even if a result is not "medically actionable," it might have "personal utility" because it allows parents to plan for their child's future needs, to enroll them in research, or to connect with other families whose children carry the same genetic marker.
Finding a certain gene variant in one child might inform parents' decisions about whether to have another—and if they do, about whether to use reproductive technologies or prenatal testing to select against that variant in a future child. I have no doubt that for some parents these personal utility arguments are persuasive, but notice how far we've now strayed from the serious yet treatable conditions that motivated governments to set up newborn screening programs, and to mandate such testing for all.
Which brings me to the other problem with the call for sequencing newborn babies: the idea that even if it's not what the law requires, it's what good parents should do. That idea is very compelling when we're talking about sequencing results that show a serious threat to the child's health, especially when interventions are available to prevent or treat that condition. But as I have shown, many sequencing results are not of this type.
While one parent might reasonably decide to learn about their child's risk for a condition about which nothing can be done medically, a different, yet still thoroughly reasonable, parent might prefer to remain ignorant so that they can enjoy the time before their child is afflicted. This parent might decide that the worry—and the hypervigilence it could inspire in them—is not in their child's best interest, or indeed in their own. This parent might also think that it should be up to the child, when he or she is older, to decide whether to learn about his or her risk for adult-onset conditions, especially given that many adults at high familial risk for conditions like Alzheimer's or Huntington's disease choose never to be tested. This parent will value the child's future autonomy and right not to know more than they value the chance to prepare for a health risk that won't strike the child until 40 or 50 years in the future.
Parents are not obligated to learn about their children's risk for a condition that cannot be prevented, has a small risk of occurring, or that would appear only in adulthood.
Contemporary understandings of parenting are famously demanding. We are asked to do everything within our power to advance our children's health and well-being—to act always in our children's best interests. Against that backdrop, the need to sequence every newborn baby's genome might seem obvious. But we should be skeptical. Many sequencing results are complex and uncertain. Parents are not obligated to learn about their children's risk for a condition that cannot be prevented, has a small risk of occurring, or that would appear only in adulthood. To suggest otherwise is to stretch parental responsibilities beyond the realm of childhood and beyond factors that parents can control.
The Grim Reaper Can Now Compost Your Body
Ultra-green Seattle isn't just getting serious about living eco-friendly, but dying that way, too. As of this week, Washington is officially the first state to allow citizens to compost their own dead bodies.
Their bodies, including bones, were converted into clean, odorless soil free of harmful pathogens.
The Lowdown
Keep in mind this doesn't mean dumping your relative in a nearby river. Scientists and organizations have ways to help Mother Nature process the remains. For instance, the late actor Luke Perry reportedly was buried in a mushroom suit. Perry's garment is completely biodegradable and the attached microorganisms help the decomposition process cleanly and efficiently.
A biodegradable burial requires only a fraction of the energy used for cremation and can save a metric ton of CO2. The body decomposes in about a month. Besides a mushroom suit, another option coming down the pike in Washington state is to have your body converted directly into soil in a special facility.
A pilot study last summer by a public benefit corporation called Recompose signed up six terminally ill people who donated their remains for such research. Their bodies, including bones, were converted into clean, odorless soil free of harmful pathogens. That soil—about a cubic yard per person--could then be returned after 30 days to the subjects' families.
Green burials open the door to creative memorials. A tree or garden could be planted with your soil. This method provides a climate-friendly alternative to traditional funerals, circumventing toxic embalming fluid, expensive casket materials and other ecological overhead. The fertile soil could also be given to conservationist organizations.
Next Up
The new legislation in Washington will take effect May 1, 2020. The Pacific Northwest state has one of the highest cremation rates in the nation at 78 percent, only second to Nevada. Rising climate change and increased interest in death management will only speed this discussion to the forefront in other states.
A biodegradable burial requires only a fraction of the energy used for cremation and can save a metric ton of CO2.
It's also worth noting Perry wasn't buried in Washington State, but in Tennessee. It is unknown where exactly he was laid to rest, nor if it was done under a legal precedent or special exception.
According to the Green Burial Council, each state varies on how and where you can bury someone. Home burials are usually legal, but to do so requires establishing an official cemetery area on the property. How someone is buried has even more dynamic legislation. There will be new discussions about how neighbors contend with nearby decomposing bodies, legal limitations to private burial techniques, and other issues never addressed before in modern mainstream America.
Open Questions
It's unclear if green burials will be commonplace for those with less financial means or access. Mushroom suits average a couple thousand dollars, making them more expensive than a low-end casket. There are also the less obvious expenses, including designating the place of burial, and getting proper burial support and guidance. In short, you likely won't go to the local funeral home and be taken care of properly. It is still experimental.
As for "natural organic reduction" (converting human remains to soil in reusable modular vessels), Recompose is still figuring out its pricing for Washington residents, but expects the service to cost more than cremation and less than a conventional burial.
For now, environmentally sustainable death care may be comparable to vegetarianism in the 1970s or solar paneling in the 1980s: A discussion among urbanites and upwardly-mobile financial classes, but not yet an accessible option for the average American. It's not a coincidence that the new Washington law received support in Seattle, one of the top 10 wealthiest cities in America. A similar push may take off in less affluent areas if ecological concerns drive a demand for affordable green burial options.
Until then, your neighborhood mortician still has the death business on lock.
Matt Trau, a professor of chemistry at the University of Queensland, stunned the science world back in December when the prestigious journal Nature Communications published his lab's discovery about a unique property of cancer DNA that could lead to a simple, cheap, and accurate test to detect any type of cancer in under 10 minutes.
No one believed it. I didn't believe it. I thought, "Gosh, okay, maybe it's a fluke."
Trau granted very few interviews in the wake of the news, but he recently opened up to leapsmag about the significance of this promising early research. Here is his story in his own words, as told to Editor-in-Chief Kira Peikoff.
There's been an incredible explosion of knowledge over the past 20 years, particularly since the genome was sequenced. The area of diagnostics has a tremendous amount of promise and has caught our lab's interest. If you catch cancer early, you can improve survival rates to as high as 98 percent, sometimes even now surpassing that.
My lab is interested in devices to improve the trajectory of cancer patients. So, once people get diagnosed, can we get really sophisticated information about the molecular origins of the disease, and can we measure it in real time? And then can we match that with the best treatment and monitor it in real time, too?
I think those approaches, also coupled with immunotherapy, where one dreams of monitoring the immune system simultaneously with the disease progress, will be the future.
But currently, the methodologies for cancer are still pretty old. So, for example, let's talk about biopsies in general. Liquid biopsy just means using a blood test or a urine test, rather than extracting out a piece of solid tissue. Now consider breast cancer. Still, the cutting-edge screening method is mammography or the physical interrogation for lumps. This has had a big impact in terms of early detection and awareness, but it's still primitive compared to interrogating, forensically, blood samples to look at traces of DNA.
Large machines like CAT scans, PET scans, MRIs, are very expensive and very subjective in terms of the operator. They don't look at the root causes of the cancer. Cancer is caused by changes in DNA. These can be changes in the hard drive of the DNA (the genomic changes) or changes in the apps that the DNA are running (the epigenetics and the transcriptomics).
We don't look at that now, even though we have, emerging, all of these technologies to do it, and those technologies are getting so much cheaper. I saw some statistics at a conference just a few months ago that, in the United States, less than 1 percent of cancer patients have their DNA interrogated. That's the current state-of-the-art in the modern medical system.
Professor Matt Trau, a cancer researcher at the University of Queensland in Australia.
(Courtesy)
Blood, as the highway of the body, is carrying all of this information. Cancer cells, if they are present in the body, are constantly getting turned over. When they die, they release their contents into the blood. Many of these cells end up in the urine and saliva. Having technologies that can forensically scan the highways looking for evidence of cancer is little bit like looking for explosives at the airport. That's very valuable as a security tool.
The trouble is that there are thousands of different types of cancer. Going back to breast cancer, there's at least a dozen different types, probably more, and each of them change the DNA (the hard drive of the disease) and the epigenetics (or the RAM memory). So one of the problems for diagnostics in cancer is to find something that is a signature of all cancers. That's been a really, really, really difficult problem.
Ours was a completely serendipitous discovery. What we found in the lab was this one marker that just kept coming up in all of the types of breast cancers we were studying.
No one believed it. I didn't believe it. I thought, "Gosh, okay, maybe it's a fluke, maybe it works just for breast cancer." So we went on to test it in prostate cancer, which is also many different types of diseases, and it seemed to be working in all of those. We then tested it further in lymphoma. Again, many different types of lymphoma. It worked across all of those. We tested it in gastrointestinal cancer. Again, many different types, and still, it worked, but we were skeptical.
Then we looked at cell lines, which are cells that have come from previous cancer patients, that we grow in the lab, but are used as model experimental systems. We have many of those cell lines, both ones that are cancerous, and ones that are healthy. It was quite remarkable that the marker worked in all of the cancer cell lines and didn't work in the healthy cell lines.
What could possibly be going on?
Well, imagine DNA as a piece of string, that's your hard drive. Epigenetics is like the beads that you put on that string. Those beads you can take on and off as you wish and they control which apps are run, meaning which genetic programs the cell runs. We hypothesized that for cancer, those beads cluster together, rather than being randomly distributed across the string.
Ultimately, I see this as something that would be like a pregnancy test you could take at your doctor's office.
The implications of this are profound. It means that DNA from cancer folds in water into three-dimensional structures that are very different from healthy cells' DNA. It's quite literally the needle in a haystack. Because when you do a liquid biopsy for early detection of cancer, most of the DNA from blood contains a vast abundance of healthy DNA. And that's not of interest. What's of interest is to find the cancerous DNA. That's there only in trace.
Once we figured out what was going on, we could easily set up a system to detect the trace cancerous DNA. It binds to gold nanoparticles in water and changes color. The test takes 10 minutes, and you can detect it by eye. Red indicates cancer and blue doesn't.
We're very, very excited about where we go from here. We're starting to test the test on a greater number of cancers, in thousands of patient samples. We're looking to the scientific community to engage with us, and we're getting a really good response from groups around the world who are supplying more samples to us so we can test this more broadly.
We also are very interested in testing how early can we go with this test. Can we detect cancer through a simple blood test even before there are any symptoms whatsoever? If so, we might be able to convert a cancer diagnosis to something almost as good as a vaccine.
Of course, we have to watch what are called false positives. We don't want to be detecting people as positives when they don't have cancer, and so the technology needs to improve there. We see this version as the iPhone 1. We're interested in the iPhone 2, 3, 4, getting better and better.
Ultimately, I see this as something that would be like a pregnancy test you could take at your doctor's office. If it came back positive, your doctor could say, "Look, there's some news here, but actually, it's not bad news, it's good news. We've caught this so early that we will be able to manage this, and this won't be a problem for you."
If this were to be in routine use in the medical system, countless lives could be saved. Cancer is now becoming one of the biggest killers in the world. We're talking millions upon millions upon millions of people who are affected. This really motivates our work. We might make a difference there.
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.