The Sickest Babies Are Covered in Wires. New Tech Is Changing That.
I'll never forget the experience of having a child in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).
Now more than ever, we're working to remove the barriers between new parents and their infants.
It was another layer of uncertainty that filtered into my experience of being a first-time parent. There was so much I didn't know, and the wires attached to my son's small body for the first week of his life were a reminder of that.
I wanted to be the best mother possible. I deeply desired to bring my son home to start our lives. More than anything, I longed for a wireless baby whom I could hold and love freely without limitations.
The wires suggested my baby was fragile and it left me feeling severely unprepared, anxious, and depressed.
In recent years, research has documented the ways that NICU experiences take a toll on parents' mental health. But thankfully, medical technology is rapidly being developed to help reduce the emotional fallout of the NICU. Now more than ever, we're working to remove the barriers between new parents and their infants. The latest example is the first ever wireless monitoring system that was recently developed by a team at Northwestern University.
After listening to the needs of parents and medical staff, Debra Weese-Mayer, M.D., a professor of pediatric autonomic medicine at Feinberg School of Medicine, along with a team of materials scientists, engineers, dermatologists and pediatricians, set out to develop this potentially life-changing technology. Weese-Mayer believes wireless monitoring will have a significant impact for people on all sides of the NICU experience.
"With elimination of the cumbersome wires," she says, "the parents will find their infant more approachable/less intimidating and have improved access to their long-awaited but delivered-too-early infant, allowing them to begin skin-to-skin contact and holding with reduced concern for dislodging wires."
So how does the new system work?
Very thin "skin like" patches made of silicon rubber are placed on the surface of the skin to monitor vitals like heart rate, respiration rate, and body temperature. One patch is placed on the chest or back and the other is placed on the foot.
These patches are safer on the skin than previously used adhesives, reducing the cuts and infections associated with past methods. Finally, an antenna continuously delivers power, often from under the mattress.
The data collected from the patches stream from the body to a tablet or computer.
New wireless sensor technology is being studied to replace wired monitoring in NICUs in the coming years.
(Northwestern University)
Weese-Mayer hopes that wireless systems will be standard soon, but first they must undergo more thorough testing. "I would hope that in the next five years, wireless monitoring will be the standard in NICUs, but there are many essential validation steps before this technology will be embraced nationally," she says.
Until the new systems are ready, parents will be left struggling with the obstacles that wired monitoring presents.
Physical intimacy, for example, appears to have pain-reducing qualities -- something that is particularly important for babies who are battling serious illness. But wires make those cuddles more challenging.
There's also been minimal discussion about how wired monitoring can be particularly limiting for parents with disabilities and mobility aids, or even C-sections.
"When he was first born and I was recovering from my c-section, I couldn't deal with keeping the wires untangled while trying to sit down without hurting myself," says Rhiannon Giles, a writer from North Carolina, who delivered her son at just over 31 weeks after suffering from severe preeclampsia.
"The wires were awful," she remembers. "They fell off constantly when I shifted positions or he kicked a leg, which meant the monitors would alarm. It felt like an intrusion into the quiet little world I was trying to mentally create for us."
Over the last few years, researchers have begun to dive deeper into the literal and metaphorical challenges of wired monitoring.
For many parents, the wires prompt anxiety that worsens an already tense and vulnerable time.
I'll never forget the first time I got to hold my son without wires. It was the first time that motherhood felt manageable.
"Seeing my five-pound-babies covered in wires from head to toe rendered me completely overwhelmed," recalls Caila Smith, a mom of five from Indiana, whose NICU experience began when her twins were born pre-term. "The nurses seemed to handle them perfectly, but I was scared to touch them while they appeared so medically frail."
During the nine days it took for both twins to come home, the limited access she had to her babies started to impact her mental health. "If we would've had wireless sensors and monitors, it would've given us a much greater sense of freedom and confidence when snuggling our newborns," Smith says.
Besides enabling more natural interactions, wireless monitoring would make basic caregiving tasks much easier, like putting on a onesie.
"One thing I noticed is that many preemie outfits are made with zippers," points out Giles, "which just don't work well when your baby has wires coming off of them, head to toe."
Wired systems can pose issues for medical staff as well as parents.
"The main concern regarding wired systems is that they restrict access to the baby and often get tangled with other equipment, like IV lines," says Lamia Soghier, Medical Director of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Children's National in Washington, D.C , who was also a NICU parent herself. "The nurses have to untangle the wires, which takes time, before handing the baby to the family."
I'll never forget the first time I got to hold my son without wires. It was the first time that motherhood felt manageable, and I couldn't stop myself from crying. Suddenly, anything felt possible and all the limitations from that first week of life seemed to fade away. The rise of wired-free monitoring will make some of the stressors that accompany NICU stays a thing of the past.
An Investigational Drug Offers Hope to Patients with a Disabling Neuromuscular Disease
Robert Thomas was a devoted runner, gym goer, and crew member on a sailing team in San Diego when, in his 40s, he noticed that his range of movement was becoming more limited.
He thought he was just getting older, but when he was hiking an uphill trail in Lake Tahoe, he kept tripping over rocks. "I'd never had this happen before," Robert says. "I knew something was wrong but didn't know what it was."
It wasn't until age 50 when he was diagnosed with Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease. The genetic disorder damages the peripheral nerves, which connect the brain and spinal cord to the rest of the body. This network of nerves is responsible for relaying information and signals about sensation, movement, and motor coordination. Over time, the disease causes debilitating muscle weakness and the loss of limb control.
Charcot-Marie-Tooth usually presents itself in childhood or in a person's teens, but in some patients, like Robert, onset can be later in life. Symptoms may include muscle cramping, tingling, or burning. Many patients also have high foot arches or hammer toes — toes that curl from the middle joint instead of pointing forward. Those affected often have difficulty walking and may lose sensation in their lower legs, feet, hands, or forearms. One of the most common rare diseases, it affects around 130,000 people in the United States and 2.8 million worldwide.
Like many people with Charcot-Marie-Tooth, or CMT, Robert wears corrective braces on his legs to help with walking. Now 61, he can't run or sail anymore because of the disease, but he still works out regularly and can hike occasionally. CMT also affects his grip, so he has to use special straps while doing some exercises.
For the past few years, Robert has been participating in a clinical trial for an investigational CMT drug. He takes the liquid formulation every morning and evening using an oral syringe. Scientists are following patients like Robert to learn if their symptoms stabilize or improve while on the drug. Dubbed PXT300, the drug was designed by French biopharmaceutical company Pharnext and is the farthest along in development for CMT. If approved, it would be the first drug for the disease.
Currently, there's no cure for CMT, only supportive treatments like pain medication. Some individuals receive physical and occupational therapy. A drug for CMT could be a game-changer for patients whose quality of life is severely affected by the disease.
Genetic Underpinnings
CMT arises from mutations in genes that are responsible for creating and maintaining the myelin sheath — the insulating layer around nerves. Pharnext's drug is meant to treat patients with CMT1A, the most common form of the disease, which represents about half of CMT cases. Around 5% of those with CMT1A become severely disabled and end up in wheelchairs. People with CMT1A have an extra copy of the gene PMP22, which makes a protein that's needed to maintain the myelin sheath around peripheral nerves.
Typically, an individual inherits one copy of PMP22 from each parent. But a person with CMT1A receives a copy of PMP22 from one parent and two copies from a parent with the disease. This extra copy of the gene results in excess protein production, which damages the cells responsible for preserving and regenerating the myelin sheath, called Schwann cells.
The myelin sheath helps ensure that a signal from the brain gets carried to nerves in the muscles so that a part of the body can carry out a particular action or movement. This sheath is like the insulation on an electrical cord and the action is like a light bulb. If the insulation is fine, the light bulb turns on. But if the insulation is frayed, the light will flicker.
"The same happens to these patients," says David Horn Solomon, CEO of Pharnext. "The signal to their muscle is weak and flickers." Over time, their muscles become weaker and thinner.
The PMP22 gene has proven difficult to target with a drug because it's located in a protected space — the Schwann cells that make up the insulation around nerves. "There's not an easy way to tamp it down," Solomon says.
Another company, Acceleron Pharma of Cambridge, Massachusetts, was developing an injectable CMT drug meant to increase the strength of leg muscles. But the company halted development last year after the experimental drug failed in a mid-stage trial. While the drug led to a statistically significant increase in muscle volume, it didn't translate to improvements in muscle function or quality of life for trial participants.
Made by Design
Pharnext's drug, PXT3003, is a combination of three existing drugs — baclofen, a muscle relaxant; naltrexone, a drug that decreases the desire for alcohol and opioids; and sorbitol, a type of sugar alcohol.
The company designed the drug using its artificial intelligence platform, which screened 20,000 existing drugs to predict combinations that could inhibit the PMP22 gene and thereby lower protein production. The AI system narrowed the search to several hundreds of combinations and Pharnext tested around 75 of them in the lab before landing on baclofen, naltrexone, and sorbitol. Individually, the drugs don't have much effect on the PMP22 gene. But combined, they work to lower how much protein the gene makes.
"How the drug inside the cell reduces expression isn't quite clear yet," says Florian Thomas, director of the Hereditary Neuropathy Center, and founding chair and professor in the department of neurology at Hackensack University Medical Center and Hackensack Meridian School of Medicine in New Jersey (no relation to Robert Thomas, the CMT patient). "By reducing the amount of protein being produced, we hopefully can stabilize the nerves."
In rodents genetically engineered to have the PMP22 gene, the drug reduced protein levels and delayed onset of muscle weakness when given to rats. In another animal study, the drug increased the size of the myelin sheath around nerves in rats.
"Like humans with CMT, one of the problems the animals have is they can't grip things, their grip strength is poor," Solomon says. But when treated with Pharnext's drug, "the grip strength of these animals improves dramatically even over 12 weeks."
Human trials look encouraging, too. But the company ran into a manufacturing issue during a late-stage trial. The drug requires refrigeration, and as a result of temperature changes, crystals formed inside vials containing the high dose of the drug. The study was a double-blind trial, meaning neither the trial participants nor investigators were supposed to know who received the high dose of the drug, who received the low dose, and who received a placebo. In these types of studies, the placebo and experimental drug should look the same so that investigators can't tell them apart. But because only the high dose contained crystals, not the low dose or placebo, regulators said the trial data could be biased.
Pharnext is now conducting a new randomized, double-blind trial to prove that its drug works. The study is recruiting individuals aged 16 through 65 years old with mild to moderate CMT. The company hopes to show that the drug can stop patients' symptoms from worsening, or in the best case scenario, possibly even improve them. The company doesn't think the drug will be able to help people with severe forms of the disease.
"In neurologic disease, you're looking for plasticity, where there's still the possibility of stabilization or reversal," Solomon says. Plasticity refers to the ability of the nervous system to change and adapt in response to stimuli.
Preventing Disability
Allison Moore, a CMT patient and founder and CEO of the Hereditary Neuropathy Foundation, has been following drug development for CMT since she founded the organization in 2001. She says many investigational drugs haven't moved forward because they've shown little success in animals. The fact that Pharnext's drug has made it to a late-stage human trial is promising, she says.
"It's really exciting," Moore says. "There's a chance that if you take the drug early before you're very severe, you'll end up not developing the disease to a level that's super disabling."
CMT has damaged Moore's peroneal nerve, a main nerve in the foot. As a result, she has foot drop, the inability to lift the front part of her foot, and needs to wear leg braces to help her walk. "The idea that you could take this early on and that it could stop progression, that's the hope that we have."
Thomas, the neurologist, says a drug doesn't have to be a cure to have a significant impact on patients. "If I have a CMT patient who's 50 years old, that patient will be more disabled by age 60," he says. "If I can treat that person with a drug, and that person is just as disabled at age 60 as they were at age 50, that's transformative in my mind."
While Robert Thomas says he hasn't noticed a dramatic improvement since he's been on the drug, he does think it's helping. Robert is now in an open-label study, which means he and his health provider are aware that he's receiving the drug.
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, manufacturing and supply chain disruptions meant that Robert was without the trial drug for two months. When his medication ran out, his legs felt unstable again and walking was harder. "There was a clear distinction between being on and off that medication," he says.
Pharnext's current trial will take about a year and a half to complete. After that, the FDA will decide on whether to approve the drug for CMT patients.
As scientists learn more about the PMP22 gene and the more than 100 other genes that when mutated cause CMT, more precise treatments could be possible. For instance, scientists have used the gene-editing tool CRISPR to correct a CMT-causing mutation in human cells in the lab. The results were published August 16 in the journal Frontiers in Cell and Developmental Biology.
Pharnext is also interested in pursuing genetic treatments for CMT, but in the meantime, repurposed drugs may be the best shot at helping patients until more advanced treatments are available.
"Making Sense of Science" is a monthly podcast that features interviews with leading medical and scientific experts about the latest developments and the big ethical and societal questions they raise. This episode is hosted by science and biotech journalist Emily Mullin, summer editor of the award-winning science outlet Leaps.org.