New Hope for Organ Transplantation: Life Without Anti-Rejection Drugs
Rob Waddell dreaded getting a kidney transplant. He suffers from a genetic condition called polycystic kidney disease that causes the uncontrolled growth of cysts that gradually choke off kidney function. The inherited defect has haunted his family for generations, killing his great grandmother, grandmother, and numerous cousins, aunts and uncles.
But he saw how difficult it was for his mother and sister, who also suffer from this condition, to live with the side effects of the drugs they needed to take to prevent organ rejection, which can cause diabetes, high blood pressure and cancer, and even kidney failure because of their toxicity. Many of his relatives followed the same course, says Waddell: "They were all on dialysis, then a transplant and ended up usually dying from cancers caused by the medications."
When the Louisville native and father of four hit 40, his kidneys barely functioned and the only alternative was either a transplant or the slow death of dialysis. But in 2009, when Waddell heard about an experimental procedure that could eliminate the need for taking antirejection drugs, he jumped at the chance to be their first patient. Devised by scientists at the University of Louisville and Northwestern University, the innovative approach entails mixing stem cells from the live kidney donor with that of the recipient to create a hybrid immune system, known as a chimera, that would trick the immune system and prevent it from attacking the implanted kidney.
The procedure itself was done at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, using a live kidney donated by a neighbor of Waddell's, who camped out in Chicago during his recovery. Prior to surgery, Waddell underwent a conditioning treatment that consisted of low dose radiation and chemotherapy to weaken his own immune system and make room for the infusion of stem cells.
"The low intensity chemo and radiation conditioning regimen create just enough space for the donor stem cells to gain a foothold in the bone marrow and the donor's immune system takes over," says Dr. Joseph Levanthal, the transplant surgeon who performed the operation and director of kidney and pancreas transplantation at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine. "That way the recipient develops an immune system that doesn't see the donor organ as foreign."
"As a surgeon, I saw what my patients had to go through—taking 25 pills a day, dying at an early age from heart disease, or having a 35% chance of dying every year on dialysis."
A week later, Waddell had the kidney transplant. The following day, he was infused with a complex cellular cocktail that included blood-forming stem cells derived from his donor's bone marrow mixed what are called tolerance inducing facilitator cells (FCs); these cells help the foreign stem cells get established in the recipient's bone marrow.
Over the course of the following year, he was slowly weaned off of antirejection medications—a precaution in case the procedure didn't work—and remarkably, hasn't needed them since. "I felt better than I had in decades because my kidneys [had been] degrading," recalls Waddell, now 54 and a CPA for a global beverage company. And what's even better is that this new approach offers hope for one of his sons who has also inherited the disorder.
Kidney transplants are the most frequent organ transplants in the world and more than 23,000 of these procedures were done in the United States in 2019, according to the United Network for Organ Sharing. Of this, about 7,000 operations are done annually using live organ donors; the remainder use organs from people who are deceased. Right now, this revolutionary new approach—as well as a similar strategy formulated by Stanford University scientists--is in the final phase of clinical trials. Ultimately, this research may pave the way towards realizing the holy grail of organ transplantation: preventing organ rejection by creating a tolerant state in which the recipient's immune system is compatible with the donor, which would eliminate the need for a lifetime of medications.
"As a surgeon, I saw what my patients had to go through—taking 25 pills a day, dying at an early age from heart disease, or having a 35% chance of dying every year on dialysis," says Dr. Suzanne Ildstad, a transplant surgeon and director of the Institute for Cellular Therapeutics at the University of Louisville, whose discovery of facilitator cells were the basis for this therapeutic platform. Ildstad, who has spent more than two decades searching for a better way, says, "This is something I have worked for my entire life."
The Louisville group uses a combination of chemo and radiation to replace the recipient's immune and blood forming cells with that of the donor. In contrast, the Stanford protocol involves harvesting the donor's blood stem cells and T-cells, which are the foot soldiers of the immune system that fight off infections and would normally orchestrate the rejection of the transplanted organ. Their transplant recipients undergo a milder form of "conditioning" that only radiates discrete parts of the body and selectively targets the recipient's T-cells, creating room for both sets of T-cells, a strategy these researchers believe has a better safety profile and less of a chance of rejection.
"We try to achieve immune tolerance by a true chimerism," says Dr. Samuel Strober, a professor of medicine for immunology and rheumatology at Stanford University and a leader of this research team. "The recipients immune system cells are maintained but mixed in the blood with that of the donor."
Studies suggest both approaches work. In a 2018 clinical trial conducted by Talaris Therapeutics, a Louisville-based biotech founded by Ildstad, 26 of 37 (70%) of the live donor kidney transplant recipients no longer need immunosuppressants. Last fall, Talaris began the final phase of clinical tests that will eventually encompass more than 120 such patients.
The Stanford group's cell-based immunotherapy, which is called MDR-101 and is sponsored by the South San Francisco biotech, Medeor Therapeutics, has had similar results in patients who received organs from live donors who were either well matched, such as one from siblings, meaning they were immunologically identical, or partially matched; Talaris uses unrelated donors where there is only a partial match.
In their 2020 clinical trial of 51 patients, 29 were fully matched and 22 were a partial match; 22 of the fully matched recipients didn't need antirejection drugs and ten of the partial matches were able to stop taking some of these medications without rejection. "With our fully matched, roughly 80% have been completely off drugs up to 14 years later," says Strober, "and reducing the number of drugs from three to one [in the partial matches] means you have far fewer side effects. The goal is to get them off of all drugs."
But these protocols are limited to a small number of patients—living donor kidney recipients. As a consequence, both teams are experimenting with ways to broaden their approach so they can use cadaver organs from deceased donors, with human tests planned in the coming year. Here's how that would work: after the other organs are removed from a deceased donor, stem cells are harvested from the donor's vertebrae in the spinal column and then frozen for storage.
"We do the transplant and give the patient a chance to recover and maintain them on drugs," says Ildstad. "Then we do the tolerance conditioning at a later stage."
If this strategy is successful, it would be a genuine game changer, and open the door to using these protocols for transplanting other cadaver organs, including the heart, lungs and liver. While the overall procedure is complex and costly, in the long run it's less expensive than repeated transplant surgeries, the cost of medications and hospitalizations for complications caused by the drugs, or thrice weekly dialysis treatments, says Ildstad.
And she adds, you can't put a price tag on the vast improvement in quality of life.
Nearly a decade ago, Jamie Anderson hit his highest weight ever: 618 pounds. Depression drove him to eat and eat. He tried all kinds of diets, losing and regaining weight again and again. Then, four years ago, a friend nudged him to join a gym, and with a trainer's guidance, he embarked on a life-altering path.
Ethicists become particularly alarmed when medical crowdfunding appeals are for scientifically unfounded and potentially harmful interventions.
"The big catalyst for all of this is, I was diagnosed as a diabetic," says Anderson, a 46-year-old sales associate in the auto care department at Walmart. Within three years, he was down to 276 pounds but left with excess skin, which sagged from his belly to his mid-thighs.
Plastic surgery would cost $4,000 more than the sum his health insurance approved. That's when Anderson, who lives in Cabot, Arkansas, a suburb outside of Little Rock, turned to online crowdfunding to raise money. In a few months last year, current and former co-workers and friends of friends came up with that amount, covering the remaining expenses for the tummy tuck and overnight hospital stay.
The crowdfunding site that he used, CoFund Health, aimed to give his donors some peace of mind about where their money was going. Unlike GoFundMe and other platforms that don't restrict how donations are spent, Anderson's funds were loaded on a debit card that only worked at health care providers, so the donors "were assured that it was for medical bills only," he says.
CoFund Health was started in January 2019 in response to concerns about the legitimacy of many medical crowdfunding campaigns. As crowdfunding for health-related expenses has gained more traction on social media sites, with countless campaigns seeking to subsidize the high costs of care, it has given rise to some questionable transactions and legitimate ethical concerns.
Common examples of alleged fraud have involved misusing the donations for nonmedical purposes, feigning or embellishing the story of one's own unfortunate plight or that of another person, or impersonating someone else with an illness. Ethicists become particularly alarmed when medical crowdfunding appeals are for scientifically unfounded and potentially harmful interventions.
About 20 percent of American adults reported giving to a crowdfunding campaign for medical bills or treatments, according to a survey by AmeriSpeak Spotlight on Health from NORC, formerly called the National Opinion Research Center, a non-partisan research institution at the University of Chicago. The self-funded poll, conducted in November 2019, included 1,020 interviews with a representative sample of U.S. households. Researchers cited a 2019 City University of New York-Harvard study, which noted that medical bills are the most common basis for declaring personal bankruptcy.
Some experts contend that crowdfunding platforms should serve as gatekeepers in prohibiting campaigns for unproven treatments. Facing a dire diagnosis, individuals may go out on a limb to try anything and everything to prolong and improve the quality of their lives.
They may enroll in well-designed clinical trials, or they could fall prey "to snake oil being sold by people out there just making a buck," says Jeremy Snyder, a health sciences professor at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, Canada, and the lead author of a December 2019 article in The Hastings Report about crowdfunding for dubious treatments.
For instance, crowdfunding campaigns have sought donations for homeopathic healing for cancer, unapproved stem cell therapy for central nervous system injury, and extended antibiotic use for chronic Lyme disease, according to an October 2018 report in the Journal of the American Medical Association.
Ford Vox, the lead author and an Atlanta-based physician specializing in brain injury, maintains that a repository should exist to monitor the outcomes of experimental treatments. "At the very least, there ought to be some tracking of what happens to the people the funds are being raised for," he says. "It would be great for an independent organization to do so."
"Even if it appears like a good cause, consumers should still do some research before donating to a crowdfunding campaign."
The Federal Trade Commission, the national consumer watchdog, cautions online that "it might be impossible for you to know if the cause is real and if the money actually gets to the intended recipient." Another caveat: Donors can't deduct contributions to individuals on tax returns.
"Even if it appears like a good cause, consumers should still do some research before donating to a crowdfunding campaign," says Malini Mithal, associate director of financial practices at the FTC. "Don't assume all medical treatments are tested and safe."
Before making any donation, it would be wise to check whether a crowdfunding site offers some sort of guarantee if a campaign ends up being fraudulent, says Kristin Judge, chief executive and founder of the Cybercrime Support Network, a Michigan-based nonprofit that serves victims before, during, and after an incident. They should know how the campaign organizer is related to the intended recipient and note whether any direct family members and friends have given funds and left supportive comments.
Donating to vetted charities offers more assurance than crowdfunding that the money will be channeled toward helping someone in need, says Daniel Billingsley, vice president of external affairs for the Oklahoma Center of Nonprofits. "Otherwise, you could be putting money into all sorts of scams." There is "zero accountability" for the crowdfunding site or the recipient to provide proof that the dollars were indeed funneled into health-related expenses.
Even if donors may have limited recourse against scammers, the "platforms have an ethical obligation to protect the people using their site from fraud," says Bryanna Moore, a postdoctoral fellow at Baylor College of Medicine's Center for Medical Ethics and Health Policy. "It's easy to take advantage of people who want to be charitable."
There are "different layers of deception" on a broad spectrum of fraud, ranging from "outright lying for a self-serving reason" to publicizing an imaginary illness to collect money genuinely needed for basic living expenses. With medical campaigns being a top category among crowdfunding appeals, it's "a lot of money that's exchanging hands," Moore says.
The advent of crowdfunding "reveals and, in some ways, reinforces a health care system that is totally broken," says Jessica Pierce, a faculty affiliate in the Center for Bioethics and Humanities at the University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus in Denver. "The fact that people have to scrounge for money to get life-saving treatment is unethical."
Crowdfunding also highlights socioeconomic and racial disparities by giving an unfair advantage to those who are social-media savvy and capable of crafting a compelling narrative that attracts donors. Privacy issues enter into the picture as well, because telling that narrative entails revealing personal details, Pierce says, particularly when it comes to children, "who may not be able to consent at a really informed level."
CoFund Health, the crowdfunding site on which Anderson raised the money for his plastic surgery, offers to help people write their campaigns and copy edit for proper language, says Matthew Martin, co-founder and chief executive officer. Like other crowdfunding sites, it retains a few percent of the donations for each campaign. Martin is the husband of Anderson's acquaintance from high school.
So far, the site, which is based in Raleigh, North Carolina, has hosted about 600 crowdfunding campaigns, some completed and some still in progress. Campaigns have raised as little as $300 to cover immediate dental expenses and as much as $12,000 for cancer treatments, Martin says, but most have set a goal between $5,000 and $10,000.
Whether or not someone's campaign is based on fact or fiction remains for prospective donors to decide.
The services could be cosmetic—for example, a breast enhancement or reduction, laser procedures for the eyes or skin, and chiropractic care. A number of campaigns have sought funding for transgender surgeries, which many insurers consider optional, he says.
In July 2019, a second site was hatched out of pet owners' requests for assistance with their dogs' and cats' medical expenses. Money raised on CoFund My Pet can only be used at veterinary clinics. Martin says the debit card would be declined at other merchants, just as its CoFund Health counterpart for humans will be rejected at places other than health care facilities, dental and vision providers, and pharmacies.
Whether or not someone's campaign is based on fact or fiction remains for prospective donors to decide. If a donor were to regret a transaction, he says the site would reach out to the campaign's owner but ultimately couldn't force a refund, Martin explains, because "it's hard to chase down fraud without having access to people's health records."
In some crowdfunding campaigns, the individual needs some or all the donated resources to pay for travel and lodging at faraway destinations to receive care, says Snyder, the health sciences professor and crowdfunding report author. He suggests people only give to recipients they know personally.
"That may change the calculus a little bit," tipping the decision in favor of donating, he says. As long as the treatment isn't harmful, the funds are a small gesture of support. "There's some value in that for preserving hope or just showing them that you care."
Coronavirus Misinformation: How You Can Fight Back
When it comes to fighting the new coronavirus threat, the truth is one of the few things more crucial than a gallon of hand sanitizer. But these days, both can be hard to find if you don't know where to look.
"Humans are wired to respond to emotional triggers and share misinformation if it reinforces existing beliefs and prejudices."
While it's only been around for a few months, COVID-19 has already produced an ever-expanding universe of conspiracy theories about its origins, its spread, and the danger it poses. Meanwhile, fraudulent cures and myths about treatments threaten to upend public health efforts to contain the epidemic.
But ordinary citizens aren't helpless. Research offers insight into why we're susceptible to misinformation, and armies of fact-checkers can tell us what's real and what isn't. Meanwhile, experts are offering tips about how we can effectively promote facts whether we're chatting with a stranger at the post office or challenging a cousin on Facebook.
Here a four-part strategy to help you fight back against the Coronavirus Misinformation Industrial Complex:
Understand How Bogus Beliefs Work
That crank on the Internet may be your neighbor. Or maybe even you.
According to a 2014 study published in JAMA Internal Medicine, nearly half of American surveyed said they believed in at least one grand medical conspiracy theory. Twenty percent agreed, for example, that cell phones cause cancer but officials won't do anything because of corporate pressure, and 37 percent believed an elaborate conspiracy theory about the suppression of natural cancer cures. "Although it is common to disparage adherents of conspiracy theories as a delusional fringe of paranoid cranks, our data suggest that medical conspiracy theories are widely known, broadly endorsed, and highly predictive of many common health behaviors," the study authors write.
In an interview with leapsmag, study lead author Eric Oliver said we're drawn to "conspiracy theories that correspond with our intuitions."
"In the case of medicine, I think there are three big factors: Fears of Big Pharma -- a large percentage of Americans have a distorted sense of what pharmaceutical companies are capable of -- fears of government, and fears of contagion," said Oliver, a political scientist at the University of Chicago.
Why does it matter if people believe in conspiracy theories about coronavirus? As Oliver's study notes, conspiracy theorists are less likely to rely on traditional medicine, get flu shots, or go to annual check-ups. They could be especially susceptible to disease and inappropriate treatment.
Joseph Uscinski, a professor of political science at the University of Miami who studies conspiracies, elaborated on how this works. "You could have people who think coronavirus is fake and say, 'I'm not going to wash my hand or take preventive action. This is the media making something up, or this is just a plot for the pharmaceutical companies to sell a vaccine.' If you have a lot of people acting that way, that increases the ability of the virus to spread."
Get the Facts from the Experts
How can you avoid being a misinformation source? Educate yourself to make sure you're not spouting fake facts yourself with the instant ease that the Internet allows. "Humans are wired to respond to emotional triggers and share misinformation if it reinforces existing beliefs and prejudices," writes misinformation scholar Claire Wardle in a 2019 Scientific American commentary. That means you too.
For coronavirus facts, experts recommend looking to the websites of government agencies (such as the CDC, World Health Organization and National Institutes of Health) and top-tier medical organizations (Mayo Clinic, Infectious Disease Society of America).
Respected mainstream news outlets such as The New York Times and National Public Radio offer extensive original reporting on the coronavirus threat. While some news outlets still require users to pay to get full access to stories, others have dropped their paywalls and made coronavirus content free to all. These include the Seattle Times, Bloomberg News and the medical news site Stat.
Locally, look to your region's public health department, news outlets, and medical organizations such as hospitals and health plans.
The Poynter Institute, a journalism watchdog outfit, offers a helpful guide to evaluating what you read about coronavirus. And a paid service called NewsGuard offers a browser plug-in that provides a "trust rating" for popular news sites. "Our goal is to teach news literacy–and we hope all websites will earn green ratings and be generally reliable to consumers," the NewsGuard site says.
"As we combat misinformation, we also need to be mindful of the fact that we're dealing with a lot of uncertainty."
Remember, however, that scientists and physicians are learning more about the coronavirus each day. Assumptions about the virus will change as more information comes in, and there are still many questions about crucial topics like its fatality rate and the ways the virus spreads. You should expect that reliable sources – and experts – may provide conflicting information.
"As we combat misinformation, we also need to be mindful of the fact that we're dealing with a lot of uncertainty," says Boston cardiologist and author Dr. Haider Warraich of Brigham and Women's Hospital.
Double-Check Suspicious Information
No, the coronavirus wasn't created in a Winnipeg laboratory. You can't kill it by drinking bleach or frolicking in snow. And, as the French Health Ministry helpfully advised on Twitter, "Non, La cocaïne NE protège PAS contre le #COVID19" – "No, cocaine does NOT prevent Covid-19."
Facebook, YouTube and Twitter are all trying to remove fake or misleading coronavirus content, The New York Times reported, and "all said they were making efforts to point people back to reliable sources of medical information." Still, as the Times reports, bogus cures and conspiracy theories are rampant across social media and beyond.
Fortunately, there are many fact-checking resources. Turn to them for ammunition before you amplify – or challenge -- a coronavirus claim that seems suspicious.
Helpful myth-busting resources include:
** The venerable fact-checking site Snopes.com, which has checked multiple coronavirus claims. (Example: No, garlic water won't cure coronavirus.)
** The World Health Organization. (Example: No, mosquito bites can't transmit coronavirus)
** FactCheck.org. (Example: No, a disgraced Harvard scientist wasn't arrested for creating the coronavirus.)
** PolitiFact.org. (Example: No, the coronavirus is not just "the common cold.")
** The International Fact-Checking Network, accessible via the social-media hashtags #CoronaVirusFacts and #DatosCoronaVirus.
Correct Others With Caution
On social media, anger and sarcasm make up a kind of common tongue. But sick burns won't force misinformed people see the light. Instead, try a gentler approach.
"The most important thing would be to first acknowledge their anxieties rather than first trying to rationalize away their misbeliefs," said the University of Chicago's Oliver. "People embrace misinformation and conspiracy theories because they are afraid and trying to make sense of the world. Their beliefs serve a strong emotional function and will be defended as such. Trying to rationalize with them or argue with them may be counterproductive if one can't first put them at some ease."
Turn yourself into a source of coronavirus facts and a bulwark against the fake, misleading, and fraudulent.
So what can you do? "There will never be a magic bullet," the University of Miami's Uscinski said, but one approach is to highlight reliable information from sources that the person trusts, such as news outlets (think MSNBC or Fox News) or politicians.
However, don't waste your time. "If you have people who are believing in the craziest thing, they're probably not going to offer a rational conversation," he said. And, he added, there's an alternative to correcting others: Turn yourself into a source of coronavirus facts and a bulwark against the fake, misleading, and fraudulent. "We can be preventive and inoculate people against these beliefs," he said, "by flooding the information environment with proper information as much as possible."